The Florida to Cancun 14-Week Delayed Passport Blues

When I applied for my passport in July, I hadn’t even settled on a trip to take. I did not pay for expedited processes, because I knew I’d be traveling on Christmas break.

I had a passport back in the Seventies. Eventually, the papers got all stiff and a little moldy, and I tossed it out.

Bad idea. But that was the good old pre-911 days when Americans didn’t have to stand on one leg and spit nickels to prove you are a gen-u-wine, bone-a-fi-dee U.S. cit-eye-sin.

Submitting your old passport apparently earns bonus points and helps you win the amazing race not to lose the money one has paid for the trip.

Yes, I do have trip insurance but I didn’t notice “didn’t get my passport on time” as a reason for reimbursement.

Within three weeks, the State Department sent a letter saying my birth certificate was no good.

It was issued by Schenectady County with a seal, damned upstart Dutch province established long before the colonies became a united-states of anything – and who can trust those demmed furriners to know whether I was born or not.

I had to order a copy from the New York State Department of Health.

The next part of the cock-up is my fault – I did not read the fine print. I sent a check for $30 for 10-12 week processing, instead of $45 for two to four week processing. So sue me, my eyes are not as good as they used to be, I’m bad at paperwork, and I did this right after the death of my mom when I was seriously grieving and handling all the details of her passing.

When I called about three weeks later, I was told not to expect the birth certificate for a long time. So long that there seemed scant chance I could get it to the State Department in time.

New York State had a simple solution for that, however: Pay us $65 right now and we will get the passport to you in five to 10 days.

This turned out to be a lie, as it took 15 days. Nothing I could do about it and, of course, no refunds to me for their poor performance.

Being stressed out about the process, I next paid $56 for overnight delivery to the State Department and $72.72 (yes, really, 7-2-7-2, does someone have a number fetish in the Passport Office?) for expedited processing.

So, I guess I will be going to Cancun and the Mayan ruins for Winter Solstice and can slip through some crack in the cosmic egg or whatever is supposed to happen then.

Las Olas Boulevard: A Backyard Tourist's Photos

I am richly lucky to live in a subtropical paradise. I played backyard tourist this afternoon, after the morning's downpour stopped, and wandered down to Las Olas Boulevard. It's a center for restaurants, jazz clubs and nightlife, as well as shops and galleries. This waterfront restaurant on the New River epitomizes the South Florida experience.


Las Olas is close enough to the beachfront hotels, just across the Intracoastal Waterway, to attract tourists. But the area also is home to many of Fort Lauderdale's more prosperous citizens, including a substantial gay community.


This building is a newer structure. Its steamboat balconies overlooking both the New River and the boulevard are undoubtedly among the priciest in the building.

Stucco walls and voluminous foliage seclude this mansion on a quieter stretch of Las Olas -- and even closer to the Intracoastal Waterway. Spanish Mediterranean architecture was popular in the 1920s and 1930s.


Next door to the mansion -- and separated from it by the walls, are a row of a half dozen townhouses.


Each is tucked away behind its own gated entranceway and foliage. They are chicly European.


The gate creates something much like a foyer, as seen from the sidewalk. Two of the residents want even more privacy and added these canvas curtains to shield the tiny yards from view. I had to alter the colors a good deal to make the dark green fabric visible.

It would be lovely to live in a spot that was simultaneously close to restaurants, shopping, museums, the main library, the Riverfront walkway with its beautiful parks, and the beach -- yet so beautifully hidden. The pricetag? I saw a listing for a new townhome on the New River in a real estate office window for a well-groomed eyebrow under $1.7 million.

All gates are not created equal. This one shields a ground-floor suite in a new building that appears not fully occupied. What were they thinking to use wooden paneling of a completely different architectural mood?


These three charming slight buildings huddle together as new structures crowd them. I expect they have been there for many decades.


Careless colors and a jumble of signs evoke the nearby Caribbean islands in a building turned to multiple uses.


The building (above) has good bones, with a substantial upstairs veranda. It could easily be rehabilitated with an ironworks upper deck in the French-Spanish style of New Orleans and Savannah.


The courtyard entrance to an upscale restaurant, at a different location on Las Olas, would be at home in the French Quarter.

Purple trim properly emphasizes the artistic details of this art deco apartment building (below).


A trompe l'oeii mural adds interest to the exterior of this bar and restaurant.


Even a parking lot is beguiling (and barely noticeable, at the left in photo) when festooned with palms and lush subtropical foliage.


Ironically, there will be no tomorrow for this interior design business. Notice the shop's prominently displayed name and the for-rent signs in the windows.


Signs of the economic downtown are apparent in closings along the boulevard. This handsome cabinet, inlaid with a variety of woods, will be in a property auction in October.

A plaid front inexplicably decorates the facade of Hound and Herringbone,also shuttered and out of business.

On a happier note, a festive table painted in the Haitian tradition delights the eyes. Whimsical dancing figures add to the merriment.

Next door, a stuffed Siberian tiger hangs out with real ice that can't melt in a jewelry store window. Window glare adds a fantasy quality to these photos.

So I'll close with this shot of an entrancing gown, probably circa 1920s, that emerges like a shimmering ghost from this lavish window display. May the national troubles we seem to be facing vanish like the chimera of bad dreams, so we dance like giddy flappers until dawn.

Biking to the Caribbean

Biking to the Caribbean may seem impossible. Because of the rich cultural diversity of Broward County, the Caribbean is almost as close as my doorstep. Want to join me on a bike trip to the Post Office?

This is the road just beyond the gate of International Village. I stay on the narrow sidewalk. Inverrary Drive is a two-lane road with lots of speed bumps, so I am pretty safe here. You can see a faux English Tudor structure on the left. The cinderblock apartment buildings are identical, except for the Disneyfication of the exteriors to vaguely resemble various European architectural styles – Marseilles, Bordeaux, Inverness and so on. A lot of these details blew off when hurricane Wilma came through in 2005, but the exterior repairs go on and on.

The ride gets dicier at the intersection where Inverrary Drive meets Inverrary Boulevard. When we find a name we like, we go for it around here. It’s kind of like Atlanta, where at least half-dozen streets seem to be named Peachtree.

Inverrary Boulevard is a four-lane thoroughfare with a grassy median. Cars mostly ignore the 30-mile-speed limit. There is a bike lane, but knocking down bikers is good sport in Florida. Our state took high honors for greatest number of bicyclists killed by cars in 2005, 124 out of 784 nationwide, according to National Highway Traffic Safety Administration statistics reported in the November 21, 2006 South Florida Sun-Sentinel. Three bicycle riders were killed during a three-week period at the time of that report.

The bike lane ends, but a sidewalk lies just beyond this entrance to another Inverrary subdivision of small homes with garages. Residents can have dogs there, which I would like to do.






This water feature, pictured below, with its rocks and flowering plants add a note of serenity to the ride. It’s a popular spot for newlyweds to have their wedding photos taken. The clever landscaping hides a major intersection just a hundred feet or so away.












Oakland Park Boulevard, left, is a six-lane divided highway with right-and-left turning lanes, thus eight lanes in most places. Run for your life! I mean it. Drivers are so mean that the traffic lights are calibrated to show you how many seconds are left to get across the road, like an electric-chair countdown. I walk my bicycle across intersections, my parents’ voices ringing across the decades.

I have to cross one intersection from the north to south sides of the road, and this one from the east to west side. See that little piece of white cement at the other side of the road? Look closely. Yep, there it is. It’s a sidewalk. Despite the heavy traffic on Oakland Park Boulevard, I will be able to finish the trip on this sidewalk and relatively safe access roads. I do not have a death wish. But maybe I should wear a helmet. There are maniacs out there on these roads.

Here is the strip mall that houses our little local post office. Not Caribbean enough for you? What about the Creole Diner and Juice Bar? The little store that specialize in island music? The ten-buck nail salon? Or how about the seafood restaurant where the men cook blackened fish on grills made from oil drums?

I stop at the So Loved Market before heading home to buy a bottle of water. Click on photo to enlarge to see sign. Amazingly, I see someone I know at the laundermat. Last summer, in brutal heat, I gave an elderly woman at the supermarket a drive to her apartment because she is nearly blind. She is such a sweetie pie, and I haven’t seen her since. She peers into my face but remembers me quite well. Her vision may be going, but she is still sharp as a tack.

There are two waterfalls and a small pond at this entrance to the subdivision, directly across Inverrary Boulevard from the pond I shot earlier. It is another great favorite of brides and grooms for their photos.

I am almost home. Once I turn on Inverrary Drive, a head wind combined with the slight incline is too much for me. I walk the bike for a while, until the ground levels. My packages are mailed, I’ve gotten some exercise, enjoyed my trip to the Bahamas, and had a nice chat. Mission accomplished.