Below the 30th Parallel

Hey there, coming at you from the Hillsborough county Laundromat. It’s a pleasant seventy-eight degrees down here today as it has been for most of our time down here so far. After Salisbury we shuffled on down south to Tampa, FL and just in time from what I hear. We spent Christmas day at Clearwater Beach just west of Tampa, and about as far west as you can get in this state. It’s true, the weather’s been kind to us but don’t think I didn’t get a little twinkle in my eye when I thought about how cozy the winters can be up north. There is a big part of me that misses being holed up in a warm living room with a hot beverage while the snow dances in the street lights outside.

So… well, back to Tampa where I haven’t worn long pants in at least two weeks (sorry folks). The first thing we heard about before coming here was the Gasparilla Pirate parade that happens every year in late January. A whole section of down town is shut down and a slew of pirates and other revelers begin their south to north march along the eastern border of the city. We expected a Mardi-Gras style spectacle with debauchery in the streets and hail storms of plastic beads. We scored some beads but the debauchery was a little tamer than the tales I’ve heard about the Big Easy celebration.



If you’ve been to any outdoor event that allows unchecked drinking throughout the course of a day (think Preakness, Bonnaroo, Hampden Mayor’s Christmas Parade and well -- Mardi-Gras) then you’re not too far off the mark for these festivities. Perhaps it’s just that I’m no longer of the target age for this breed of rabble-rousing but once you’ve had about a half dozen beers in the blazing sun anything can seem fun. The parade had some impressive floats and some great “Johnny Depp of the Carribean” costumes but the hype behind this event suggested an all out bedlam that on the day was at best PG-13.

In truth we kind of expected as much, but had heard that the real party started later after the parade in an area of Tampa called Ybor City. Ybor is an historic Cuban neighborhood that has a great selection of restaurants and bars. Like most cities Tampa, and Florida in general, has been hit pretty hard by the bursting of the real estate bubble. As a result there are there are tons of older buildings left empty. Ybor City has its share and most have been converted into all night dance clubs with lines wrapping around the block on any given Friday or Saturday night. Also, Ybor has a reputation for being the epicenter of rowdy good times in Tampa. That being said we, and by “we” I also include my good friend Shaun and his girlfriend Beth who were visiting that weekend and stayed in a hotel in Ybor, had mentally prepared ourselves for a marathon night of drinking and an all out ruckus. So we retired to 7th Avenue, the main drag in Ybor, and nested ourselves in a cantina overlooking the quaint brick sidewalks, convinced that we had the best vantage point for the night. After an hour or so of lackluster people watching, we drifted over to the New World Brewery, which turned out to be the highlight of the weekend.

If you have a chance to visit Tampa this bar is worth the whole trip. For my tastes this place is perfect and they have a free jukebox to boot. I have to say when I walk into a bar and the beer list that they hand out catches me off guard by its weight, then I’m resigned to spending the rest of the night there. I won’t gush too much about this place but as a nice distraction they offer a “Back to the Future” themed pinball machine and a variety of board games including “Simpson’s Trivia”. Needless to say the place is my version of a utopian watering hole.

The second place we heard so much about before landing in Cigar City was the Sponge Docks in Tarpon Springs. This Gulf side town gets its name from the booming sea-sponge industry that sprouted up in the early 1930’s. For some reason a huge contingent of Greek immigrants dominated this locale early on in the 20th century and pretty soon they figured out that you could make a decent living selling harvested sea sponges for a variety of uses, most notably in conjunction with cosmetic products. So not too surprisingly Greek culture flourishes here and you have your pick from any of the two-dozen or so Hellenic restaurants that all serve equally satisfying fare. You can also take short boat tours that take you out to the areas where the sponges are most frequently harvested from and learn all about how the methods have become more refined over the last eighty years, give or take. For a reasonable price you can purchase any variety of sponges that, so I’m told, have virtually infinite uses ranging from bath and beauty to household cleaning. We bought a couple, as it was hard to resist the charming sales staff, and I can attest to the effectiveness of what is known as a Silk Sponge that I use in the shower instead of a loofa.

Just south of Tarpon Springs is Clearwater Beach, about a half hour’s ride that takes you through Clearwater proper and then over to the small peninsula that is fringed on the west by the Gulf of Mexico.

Passing through Clearwater proper you might notice a building with a strangely familiar logo planted onto its forehead that faces the street. In the past couple of decades or so, and I’m paraphrasing, Clearwater is becoming to Scientology what Salt Lake City is (or was depending on who you talk to) to Church of Latter Day Saints. And apparently the Church of Scientology not only has a beautiful building that welcomes nearly any interested party but they also own a substantial cache of property in downtown Clearwater. Property that they rent out to restaurants and retail and on which they pay absolutely not taxes, being a church. The city of Clearwater, from what I’ve heard second and third hand, has a publicly discernible distaste for the church particularly during this recession when tax revenues from such auspicious real estate would greatly benefit the state government. I’ll get off my soapbox on that issue. I only include it to divulge some perspective regarding the local political culture.

To be continued...