I wasn’t on a political campaign or a book tour, but it was a similar whistlestop-style trip I took recently by visiting six cities and two countries in eight days. I did it all with one suitcase, which I could have packed full of the memories I made on my sojourn.
Want to be a travel writer? Call me crazy…or call me curious – in the traditional sense that led me to be a sojourning scribe. I hit six cities and two countries in eight days.
Why such an ambitious schedule? It’s just the way the cards fall sometimes. You go where life takes you. Let it happen. Let yourself be surprised. Let’s go!
The World Equestrian Center, Ocala, Florida
I began by cutting a swath through Central Florida all the way from a midnight touchdown aboard Deta Airlines in Gainesville, Florida. An hour or so later, I checked in at the World Equestrian Center, an astonishing new landmark that galloped into the Sunshine State’s “horse capital” Ocala three years ago…and continues to expand.
After two days of watching brave, classically stylish competitive riders guide their massive, magnificent horses (none of them winged) through the air over five-foot high gates, I was headed toward a Delta Airlines gate at Orlando International Airport.
I got a rental car from the tiny Ocala Airport, where the young man behind the counter told me how he had met actor and aviation enthusiast John Travolta, who lives locally, at the Red Lobster…more than once.
The Villages, in Central Florida
On my way to Orlando, I stopped to visit my mother Gladys and her sister Denise who were visiting my Aunt Maryann in a county-sized residential development called The Villages – where golf and dancing to nightly live music in outdoor plazas seem to be the main pursuit of the over-50 crowd who settle in there. While there are hotels, The Villages, and its hundreds of holes of golf, are for the retired and near-retired who buy and stay.
The three entertainment squares, Spanish Springs; Lake Sumter Landing; and Brownwood Paddock Square, which are like little Disney villages with restaurants, theaters waterside boardwalk, hotels and shops. Organized events and low drink prices draw locals and their guests, mainly it seemed, by day and night. But beware – the squares shut down and the streets roll up at 9 pm.
I recalled visiting my Aunt Maryann when she first moved to The Villages a couple of decades ago. As a man in my early 30’s, I recall sensing dirty looks from the over-50 (ownership rule) residents as if I were an invading whippersnapper. Alas…now, at age 57, I was barely noticed.
Havana, Cuba
Delta Airlines offered flights from Orlando to Havana – via Miami – for an irresistible $150 round trip price. Sure you have to spring for a $100 entry visa for Cuba, but I found a restaurant in Old Havana, virtually in the shadow of the capitol dome, called “El Chanchullero,” where a lobster lunch, including a mojito, salad, beans and ice, came to $8 U.S. (And while you cannot use American credit cards, U.S. dollars are accepted and welcomed throughout Havana.)
The funniest thing about “El Chanchullero” (which translates to mean a shifty or shady fellow,) is the restaurant is very openly transparent about its connection with American literary legend Ernest Hemingway: it has none. The painted sign over the restaurant’s entrance floor reads: “Aqui Jamas Estuvo Hemingway.” It translates to mean: “Hemingway has never been here.”
The splendid irony is the famed Floridita Bar, a stone’s throw away around the corner, celebrates its popularity, in part because it’s where Hemingway drank daiquiris, which were invented there and cost only $6. Photos of “Papa” with Fidel Castro adorn the wall near a life-sized statue of Hemingway leaning on the end of the bar. Guides lead walking tours in and out of the stylish, historic bar so tourists can cross the door-side stage to get a photo with the smiling, satisfied statue of Hemingway.
Havana Political Intrigue
Without a doubt, the best view of Havana’s “Capitolio,” is not from the street between El Chanchullero and the Floridita, but looking down from the sixth-floor rooftop panoramic infinity pool, San Cristobal lounge and restaurant; and Spa Albear by Rescuse of Kempinski’s Gran Hotel Manzana. (Rescuse translates to “reassessment.”)
The artsy, contemporary hotel, created in a historic building, is also across the street from the Floridita and amidst ornate UNESCO World Heritage buildings. The view of the up-lit, bejeweled capitol dome, which is eerily similar in style to the U.S. capitol dome, is across a small park with parked, classic cars next to horse-drawn carriages.
While Havana is known for its golden era colorful Cadillacs and Chevrolets, it was another form of transportation I was intrigued by during my brief visit. I read, on my phone before I boarded my flight, a headline from the Associated Press: “Three Russian warships arrived in Cuban waters Saturday…American officials closely tracked the military exercises, a show of strength in response to continued U.S. support for Ukraine…The docking of Moscow’s flotilla sparked a flurry of excitement with the general public…”
Russian Battleship the Smolniy
I simply had to go have a firsthand peek at “training ship” Smolniy. It ended up being a close look, because the Smolniy was moored in plain sight in the harbor along the Malecon just beyond the landmark, 17 th -century Morro fortress, with its cannons and lighthouse marking and guarding the entrance to Havana Harbor.
The Spanish El Morro to protect the colonial settlement from pirates and the British or French naval fleets, but it never stopped the modern Russians, embraced by the revolutionary Fidel Castro and his communists who booted Batista and his American Mafia pals in 1959.
The Russian battleships sailing twice in and out of Havana Harbor in the summer of 2024 evoked memories, among Americans, of the Russian threat to ship in nuclear arms in during the Cuban Missile Crisis, managed by U.S. President John F. Kennedy.
The battleship was just about 50 yards from the sidewalk, but what surprised me even more was that, on that day only, there was a line of Cubans waiting in the afternoon sunshine to go aboard.
The Russian Navy was allowing people to walk on deck and have a look around. I was ready to invite myself to the party! “None of my friends can ever say they were aboard a Russian battleship,” I thought.
In fact, probably no American – or almost anyone – I would ever meet. “What a story to be able to tell!”
A Moment of Caution
Photo by Michael Patrick Shiels
And then, as I was about to join the Cubans in line to board, I, for once in my life, exercised a moment of caution. I wondered to myself, “Even though I am dressed in a traditional Cuban shirt, and have a decent tan, what if I get on board and one of the Russian sailors hears me speak English? Or what if the Russians ask to see identification before boarding?”
The United States was actively backing the Russian opponent in their war against Ukraine. I imagined the Russians would wonder what an American was doing in Havana in the first place, and further, what I was doing aboard their ship.
I speculated the sailors might then ask, or insist, to look through any photos I may have taken on my phone. And I would next be locked below in the brig and imprisoned as a spy as the ship sailed back to Mother Russia.
The closest I had been to spying was watching Ana de Armas during her “Havana scenes” (which were filmed at Pinewood Studios in London) in the last 007 James Bond movie. Even though I was innocent, I figured the USA would not be trading with any terrorist arms dealers to secure my release.
Hilton Blue Lagoon
I chose to settle for the excitement of seeing the ship from shore. The Hilton Miami Airport Blue Lagoon and Little Havana The next morning, I traveled – via Delta Airlines, not a Russian battleship – out of Cuba, arriving back in the USA, to Miami’s “Little Havana” area.
I was happy to overnight, to “reacclimatize,” at the Hilton Miami Airport Blue Lagoon Hotel, which is better described as a plane-side, waterfront resort. The Hilton Miami Airport Blue Lagoon which, for me, has crossed over from being a hotel to becoming a “home-tell.”
“Welcome back, amigo,” said Josue, the friendly Cuban fellow who drives one of the Hilton’s two, constantly looping, complimentary airport shuttles. Josue also assured me he would save a seat on the shuttle leaving at the proper time in case I happened to linger at the Hilton’s lagoon-front pool and tiki bar a little longer.
He tolerated my attempts to speak Spanish, and told me, in English, of his former life in Cuba as he drove me to the airport for my flight to Havana…and back when I returned.
Home Away From Home
The Hilton’s general manager, a Texan transplant named Jean Armas, welcomed me back from Cuba and to the hotel. He’d arranged for a plate of traditional empanadas and some locally brewed “Havana Lager” to be waiting in my 14th-story room, with a view of the airport, downtown Miami, and the Blue Lagoon pool deck, to make me feel “at home.”
While the idea of an airport hotel might sound like a transitory proposition, the Hilton Blue Lagoon has become a base camp for my adventures – whether they be in South America or South Beach.
The Hilton, for me, provokes a Pavlovian response before the excitement of even seeing soccer star Lionel Messi play an Inter-Miami game nearby or a dinner at the iconic Joe’s Stone Crab.
Photo by Michael Patrick Shiels
I completed yet another pilgrimage to Joe’s, even though I was only in Miami one night, ride-sharing over to South Beach to pop in on “Pepe,” the general manager of the century-old institution, whose real name is Jose Uchuya. Pepe is a sweet and capable gentleman who also enjoys Havana.
And yeah, there was key lime pie involved, with a shot of whipped cream on top.
Is Travel Wanderlust, Curiosity, or an Addiction?
Photo by Michael Patrick Shiels
I took a morning non-stop back to Beverly Hills, California the next day, on a Wednesday morning, and encamped in my apartment until Friday morning. While hosting my syndicated radio talk show very early that morning, at the very end, sportscaster Tony Cuthbert told me the Los Angeles Dodgers were scheduled to play baseball that night in Oakland.
“The Oakland A’s are moving after this season. This is my last chance to see a game in that ballpark,” I said to Cuthbert, using an inflection as if, rather than making a statement, was asking a question. “Oakland is just over a five-hour drive.”
Cuthbert could hear my wheels turning. He decided to enable me. “Well, I can see why you would want to make the road trip. After all, you have been cooped up in your apartment for two whole days!”
So, at 8 a.m., I got in the car and started driving to Oakland. But it took me eight hours because my curiosity got the best of me and I tried to dip onto the Pacific Coast Highway through scenic Big Sur on the way.
I made it by game time, but only because I remembered a high school friend of mine, 30 years ago back in Michigan, Jennifer Lingvai Eckard and her husband Doug live virtually beside the ballpark…and their son Chris works for the Oakland A’s! Great parking, sweet seats and a great game.
After the last out that night, at 11 p.m., though they urged me to stay over, I began driving south to the City of Angels. This time it took me 11 hours to drive back, because I stopped to sleep four times.
And Yet…
About a week later, “Pepe,” Jose Uchuya, back at Joe’s Stone Crab in Miami, received a random text from me. It was a photo of the front entrance of one of the three other licensed “Joe’s Stone Crab” restaurants in America.
Pepe texted me back: “Are you really now in Las Vegas!?”
Read more of Michael Patrick’s work at The Travel Tattler and contact him at [email protected] Order his book Travel Tattler – Less Than Torrid Tales at https://amzn.to/3Qm9FjN
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