SUN SONG 31: Time Flies, One Day Left
Laundromat sandwiches, Cuban hamburgers, 1000 yard stare.
June 14th, 2022
Miami, FL
10.98 miles
Today is the final day of this long, long walk.
It’s been a full journey, and understandably I’ve mixed feelings about it coming to an end. The sidewalk continues to pull me, even through the most treacherous of conditions, but my mind is exhausted and my feet could use the rest. I’m not sure how much longer I can continue walking beneath this piercing Floridian sun and 85º F heat. But such is the way of the Sun Song. It’s time for the inevitable end.
Yesterday I planned to visit a laundromat in Allapattah, some 20 minutes north of where I’m staying. The neighborhood, especially along NW 17th Avenue is often considered “Little Santo Domingo” as I’m told.
While I do have dirty laundry that could use a wash, I actually intended to keep my laundry at home and grab a bite to eat instead. I’ve noticed many laundromats serve two functions: a place to wash clothes and a place to eat. Besides all the washers and dryers is often a small kitchen serving coffee and sandwiches. I didn’t do much research on a specific location and just picked a random spot that was along my route. If that location didn’t sit well with me, there were two more further up the street.
Inside was your classic laundromat. Plenty of washers. A big green apple. Collections of colorful fiberglass seating. Quiet with a few patrons. I stuck out like a sore thumb with my camera around my neck and my sun hat resting on top of my head. At the front door was a counter with a small menu. Two women were waiting on fresh pressed juice.
I tried placing an order for a Cuban sandwich and coffee, but the attendant behind the counter didn't speak English. For a moment we did a dance of sorts. She spoke at me in Spanish and I responded in English, as if we could understand each other, but it was no use.
I stopped studying Spanish in highschool with the exception of a few brief stints after college. I wouldn’t consider myself proficient, but know enough words to string together broken sentences. I totally understand how embarrassing it can be to attempt to learn a new language and begin communicating.
I jumbled together a few words. Coffee… err café! Azucar, leche… Cuban… Uh, sandwich. Si, picante. Gracias.
I think I got my point across.
Muchacho!
After a short wait, the attendant behind the counter dangled a bag in front of her face. My food was ready.
I didn’t dine at the laundromat, but walked all the way to Juan Pablo Duarte Park. The coffee was hot and wonderful, even in the sweltering heat. A swarm of children played in the water fountains beside the playground while groups congregated beneath the shade. I found a picnic table under a tree and flies immediately swarmed around me. Each time I would swat them away in between bites as they tried to land on my food. It wasn’t the best Cuban I’ve ever had, but it was from a laundromat, and in that regard, I didn’t care how good it was. I just wanted the experience.
I meandered through the residential streets, took photos of brightly colored homes, and eventually turned around and made my way back down to Little Havana proper. I felt a certain sense of calamity, especially with the understanding that this walk is coming to an end. Instead of trying to walk long distances, I took it slow and covered many of the same streets I walked yesterday. Instead of the west side of the street, I walked on the east, which often feels like you’re walking a different road entirely as you can only see the buildings from across the street.
Today was really just about winding down, sitting in parks, and finding good places to eat. On Calle Ocho is a small restaurant called El Rey De Las Fritas. The place is highly regarded and known for their fritas, which is basically a ground pork and beef hamburger topped with shoestring potatoes and served on Cuban bread.
There was a lot going on inside. The walls were painted red and blue and filled with photos. Two separate horseshoe diner bars with stools filled the space while a series of those classic wood and laminate diner tables ran across the opposite wall. The moment I walked inside I knew I wanted to take pictures and positioned myself appropriately towards the far back corner which gave me a panoramic view of the entire restaurant.
I placed my order, frita con queso suiza, and looked around the restaurant with a 1000 yard stare, completely lost in a daze.. I’ve plenty to think about, but my mind is exhausted. To stare without contemplation was relaxing.
I didn’t start eating when my food arrived. Instead I took photos, which has become somewhat of an unspoken ritual. I’m obviously not from here.
I took that first bite and holy shit. It was so good.
By no means have I been eating delectably throughout this trip, at least in the sense of expensive meals and fine ingredients, but I’m not so interested in that anyways. I seek local and affordable food – the kind of dishes that are accessible and unique to a city. This frita absolutely fit the bill and may have been my favorite meal of the entire walk. Right after the Ethiopian food I ate in Washington, D.C. weeks ago.
I would have ordered another, but was afraid my body would suffer consequences later. Instead I ordered a side of rice and beans, and coffee with flan.
I walked aimlessly for the remainder of the afternoon. I’ve noticed I haven’t been walking as many residential streets here in Miami as I would in other cities, so I avoided main roads surrounding Calle Ocho. The homes of southern Florida are unlike anything you’ll see up north. Almost all are one story ranches with terracotta tile roofs or large cement apartment buildings. In terms of yard, there is no in between. Either the lawn is completely empty with a few palms (or even completely paved with cement) or tropical foliage fills the entire space. The house I’m staying at is a good example. The yard is covered with plants. It’s almost impossible to tell what time of day it is as all the plants cover the windows. It’s very nice.
Tomorrow is the big day! Supposedly it’s also one of the hottest of the trip. If I’m feeling ambitious, I’ll visit a bookstore in Little Haiti and finally make my way to South Beach where I’ll officially call this puppy a wrap.
Thanks for following along this far. Just one more day left.
See you on South Beach,
Alex
Love the tenth photo.