The traffic around South Beach Miami is in grid-lock around midnight, so my taxi has great difficulty reaching the Breakwater Hotel on the sea-front. The area is a vibrant party with people everywhere on the streets. My room is in a block accessed across a courtyard with live music and party-goers – through a corridor and into an ice cream parlour, where a lift takes me to the third floor.
It’s been a long Thursday – thirteen hours from Auckland to Houston then a six hour wait before flying on to Miami. Wifi at the airport fails to connect me to Uber and there’s nowhere to find a US sim card. It’s still only just Thursday as I hit the shower with the intention of going downstairs for a night-cap. I’m too knackered for that and, breaking all my rules regarding hotel mini bars, I open the half-bottle of Cabernet Sauvingon on offer. It’s just what I need,
because there’s a hip hop festival going on outside. I fall asleep synchronising my heart beat with the music coming through the windows – briefly waking at 4.30 to note silence. Awaking somewhat refreshed and after an average, but global type, hotel breakfast of scrambled eggs and chicken sausages, I decide to explore. Just across the road is the Art Deco Information Centre, where a helpful woman hands me the usual brochure, pointing out locations of the Jewish Museum and the Watsonian.
‘Is that related to the one in Washington?’ I ask.
‘No, that’s the Smithsonian.’
‘Of course it is.’
‘That’s OK, everyone confuses them.’
‘What’s in it?’
‘Art and design.’
I’m hooked and make a beeline as it’s literally two blocks along 10th Street. It’s too early – time to walk and look at Art Deco architecture. There’s much more that I’d imagined and I get the feeling that this might be the true Art Deco Capital of the world – sorry Napier (NZ). I check my balance at the Bank of America ATM – my usual procedure – just to let my bank know where I am. Passing a phone shop is an opportunity to get a US sim card. This takes longer than usual as the guy is only experienced with iphones, but we get there. The Watsonian is an excellent and well curated collection over two exhibition floors.
A gigantic metal sculpture of a nude muscle man in Deco style dominates the ground floor lobby by the lift. The sixth floor is dedicated to Dutch design and art from the late 1800’s to the 1940’s. There are propaganda posters covering the range of political views, architecture, furniture and interior design. Of particular note are examples of Nazi art and graphics. I spot a chap giving a young man a personal tour and eaves-drop on some of his comments. Some of the art and graphic representations are examples of how the European colonisers depicted native peoples in idealised ways which the subjects would not recognise, or identify with. The collection continues in the same vein on the 5th floor with studies for wall murals with overt political messages. Here is proof that the struggle of the left is recognised and recorded in this ever right-leaning country. Further down the building, a library (collected by the founder) occupies an entire floor.
It’s coffee time and I’ve spotted the French bakery, recommended by the woman from the Information Centre. Yes they can do a late, but it’s too cold, weak and full of froth – a great disappointment. I’m missing New Zealand Coffee and in particular my favourites on
Waiheke Island. Lunch at the gay Palace Bar – ‘because every Queen needs a palace’ – is seared fresh tuna on a salad – just right and proving that you can eat healthy food in America. Time for a snooze before setting out to do my Out Games registration – there’s been an update email directing us to The
Lowes Hotel seven blocks away. There has been no signage around the streets, advertising this world event and only when I get to the hotel lobby do I see a sign by the escalator. At the top I find Rob Wintermute from Out To Swim London, enjoying his complimentary bap after registering for the Human Rights Conference (he’s a human rights lawyer) which is a part of the games. He’s also doing athletics as well as swimming. He tells me that there are two women here from OTS so there might be a chance of a mixed relay team. We exchange US phone numbers. I head to the check in area where guys are milling around looking confused. Suddenly Ivan, the Games CEO, who came all the way to
Auckland months ago to drum up support, comes out of a door. He doesn’t remember meeting me at a drinks reception Team Auckland organised, but he has a hassled look on his face. Apparently, swimming is registering at the Marriot Hotel a few blocks away so I set off with an Australian Swimmer, only to find that the Marriot hotel we need is miles away in Coconut Grove, near the swimming pool. We both decide not to bother as registration packs are always available at the pool on the day. I go back to the hotel and find an announcement on facebook that all WOG sporting events have been cancelled except Aquatics, Soccer and Country Dancing. No wonder Ivan was looking sick.
OK, time to attend to the jet lag which is catching up on me. The consequence of this is that I don’t sleep well later. Admittedly the music is very loud tonight and the streets are heaving with African Americans doing ‘The Cake Walk’ – having a great time and looking everything from outrageous to fabulous. Too many things are running through my mind – my return to London and what has to be done. I’m busy planning ahead.