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Food for thought on the sidewalks of Wynwood.
“It’s a place created by fantasists, crackpots, dreamers, con men.”
– Anthony Bourdain
Fare-thee-well, Miami. I love you like you’re my own. Seven months ago, I had no idea what to expect from Magic City, other than thinking that I really liked quite a few places, the winter weather sure beats the Northeast, and I had a feeling there was a lot more here that’s worth exploring.
Miami is stunning, it glitters, but there’s also depth and darkness, a heavy dose of Latino passion, and a whole lot of weird. Which is why I love it.
Miami, you proved my hunches true — and stole a huge slice of my heart. I think that people who discredit you, simply don’t know you, and they certainly don’t get you. “Getting you” takes time, months even, and a heavy dose of locals’ insights.
The haters haven’t taken the time or energy to appreciate how much you have hidden in your depths and neighborhoods.
Even your flaws — and by flaws I mean your god-awful traffic and maniac drivers, who I really think might truly be terrible human beings — grew on me. At least, I came to appreciate it as a Miami quirk, albeit a really scary one.
Maybe Miami grew up to be, well, Miami, because it was — as Anthony Bourdain said — founded by fantasists, crackpots, dreamers, and con men. It continues to be inhabited by them, too. Without them, Carl Hiaasen books would be far less awesome.
In a way, I’m one of them now, too. Carving my own path here, at least for part of the year. I would like to think I’m one of the dreamers.
