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Take a break, driver 8

Ocean Drive, Miami Beach

So, it turns out, America is weird. This city of Miami, for example, I kind of love it a bit but at the same time I don’t understand it in the slightest.  Things I now love:

  • Cuban-style coffee
  • Air-conditioning
  • Retro cars and motorbikes
  • Coffee-maker in room

 Things I’m getting used to:

  • Driving on the opposite side (although it still feels precarious).
  • No tea available
  • Tipping (an arcane art)

 Things for which it’ll take a little time:

  • Everything’s covered in sauce
  • Jobs are divided by race far more than in London
    • Manual jobs – black people
    • Service jobs – Hispanic people
    • Anything-collar jobs – white people
  • When to cross the road?

 Things I’ll never be able to do:

  • Hail a taxi, apparently.

I’m enjoying this city of gleaming, roaring motorcycles, scorching March’s, pavement cafes, Cuban coffee and spotless tans. I ended up choosing from Ocean Drive’s myriad of restaurants on the basis of the music blaring from the PA – New Order good, Bob Marley better, REM’s Driver 8 – the definite winner.


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