Nick's epic ride part nineteen

   The hostel in South Beach was perhaps the least friendly,the dirtiest and without a doubt the most expensive of my entire trip.I couldn't believe how aloof all the staff were considering they were supposed to be in the tourist industry.I guess the fact that the hostel doubled as cheap housing for a bunch of locals made it lose any kind of travellers feel.Those backpackers who were there reminded me of the backpacking community back in Australia.They were all young party-hard types who seemed interested in only the bright lights and cold beers of Miami.The only wildlife that drew their interest were of the bikini clad kind who paraded around the hallways displaying thier wares at every opportunity.It would seem that a pasty-white,fourty-something guy with a scabby lip and sores on his body didn't quite make it on the cool guy list and so, for the most part,I was ignored.

   I passed the next few days just walking along the beach and soaking up the sun.I did try to so some swim training in the warm blue water and was stopped by a couple of lifeguards who wanted to know who I was and what I was doing.I had been swimming from one lifegaurd tower to the next and then running back down the beach about four hundred meters or so round the first tower and back into the water to repeat the swim.I was at it for about fourty minutes when I stopped for a break.The lifeguards asked what I was training for and when they heard my accent they assumed I was a surf-lifsaver from Oz visiting Miami.When I explained that I was a triathlete and then contined to tell them about my trip they were amazed and asked all kinds of questions about my trip,my sport and my country.At least someone here was interested in what I was doing!

    I met up with many other lifeguards in the next day or two as the Starbucks store I loved so much was in the park behind the beach where the lifguards stood post.They would all stop to chat as they made coffee runs and after meeting some of the girlie lifeguards I wished I had planned my stay here a bit better.After hanging out for months with a bunch of females whose idea of multi-sport endurance sports is power drinking while jumping up and down on a dance floor it was a pleasure to meet some healthy, fit women for a change.

    Healthy and fit is not what you would describe the good folk who were parading around the bars along Ocean Drive at the time.Walking along the sidewalks on my way to the cool shopping areas on Lincoln Road and Collins Ave I passed all bars that were just setting up for the afternoon rush.I was thinking that surely they couldn't expect to be busy as the long weekend was over and there wouldn't be enough people to fill the thousands of seats(that's right -thousands).Sure all around me were groups of very hungover and very large black guys chatting quietly over thier late breakfasts.Thier women seemed more interested in protecting the stacks of luggage on the sidewalks as they made ready to go to the airport and off home,wherever home might be.They didn't look quite as ill as the boys but then again a big hat and equally large sunglasses can hide even the most ferocious of hangovers.

   I figured that the weekends chaos was over and made my way north toward the trendy cafes of Lincoln Road.Once there I wished that I had a few more zeros tagged onto the maximum limit of my credit card.It didn't take me long to figure out that I wouldn't be buying to much in this district and resigned myself to buying some cheap boardshorts and a couple of t-shirts from one of the many tacky-tourist shops dotted about.I did have one bit of luck though as I found a store selling t-shirts for every country that was competing in the World Cup Soccer.With my Green and Gold Australia shirt now proudly covering my torso I made my way back to the beach and into a world far different from the one I had laeft a few hours before.

    As I turned back onto Ocean Drive and made for the refuge of my coffee shop I could feel the dull thumping of nightclub music reverberating through the tables on the sunny Starbucks patio.One by one the low-rider cars passed by each pulling over and depositing a group of party people onto the sidewalk.Looked like I was wrong about the weekend being over.After a while I just couldn't resist and wandered off down Ocean Drive toward my hostel.A block or so later I was in the thick of it.I have never,in all my time working in bars and clubs seen a metel detector on the street during the day.This club not only had everyone pass through the detector they also had the scariest group of bouncers that I have ever seen.Add to that the cops in flack jackets wandering around the place and I was beginning to wonder if I had stepped on to the set of some hollywood gangster movie.

   The further down Ocean Drive I went the crazier it got.The sidewalk was full,and I mean full of absolutely huge,scary looking, immaculately dressed groups of black guys standing at the entrance of every bar and restuarant.It occurred to me that not only was I about half the size of everybody around me(including the girls)I was one of the very few white guys on the street.The funny thing was that as I passed each bar entrance all the dudes would politely nod at me and step out of my way.A few of them would point at my shirt and call out all kinds of funny remarks about Australia and Steve Irwin and "Shrimps on the Barbie".It was really pretty funny and I had a laugh chatting to a few of them as I made my way down the street.I figured that in the grand scheme of things I was far too small and far too white for any of these guys to find threatening and so we joked around until they would pat me on my shoulder and send me on my way.The only way I can describe the scene is that it fullfilled every single stereotype of "Gangsta" U.S.A that the rest of the world is fed.I really felt like I was in the middle of some chaotic rap video. It was nuts!

    The rest of my time in Miami was very quiet.Some more beach time and a bit of time hanging with the "locals" at the hostel finding out about life in the southern U.S.I fund the mix of U.S and Latino culture in South beach really cool and was surprised to find that English was almost the second language amoung the shopkeepers in the nieghbourhood.I enjoyed that surprised looks on thier faces when I would ask for things in Spanish as it seems white guys don't do that very often.I am very impressed how the latinos are so pround of thier heritage and that they do differentiate between the countries of their ancestors.Most black Americans seem to just want to be known as "African" which is a huge generalization.Latinos are Cuban or Dominican or Chilean.They make the distinction and you can see the subtle differences everywhere.It's really very cool.

    My time on the road was rapidly drawing to a close and I had to turn my attention to the next few months ahead.I nad no doubt that the experiences of the last few months would play over in my mind for a long time to come.Sadly it was all coming to an end.I had debts to pay and a life to find and I was hoping, as I boarded my flight to Penticton,that Canada might be the place for me.Could I be happy with not fulfilling my dream of riding through the whole of Sth America?Would I find a home in Canada?I didn't know and I guess only time will tell.