Coconut Grove

It’s beautiful. It’s charming. It’s wonderful to walk around in a bikini and flip-flops in 85º heat. But I’ll never come back here again. In Coconut Grove, the streets are lined with pastel-colored shops, next year’s summer fashion, and neatly trimmed tropical trees. There’s just nothing to do.
I came for a conference. I played on South Beach. After an exhausting three days, I’m finally exploring the area, desperately seeking entertainment beyond window-shopping. Part of the problem is that I’m used to Boston, Paris and even San Francisco – all walkable cities. Coconut Grove – and Miami in general – is not very walkable. The main source of amusement – the beach – is a 20-minute cab ride away, and the only other water is the dirty inlet filled with boats. I suppose if I had the time and money, it’d be fun to practice sailing.

I started at the Mayfair, a mall that has since been transformed into an oasis of a hotel. The rooms are gorgeous; the service sucks. All the fancy bathrooms and flat-screen TVs can’t overcome the musty smell, dodgy wireless, lousy staff response or $30 charge for the Jacuzzi. For the first time, I was disappointed with a Kimpton Hotel.


I’m now at the Mutiny Hotel, which is a combination of condos and hotel rooms. I’m not going to lie: I chose it as much for its name (What can I say? I have a thing for pirates!) as for its deceptive seaside location. It’s nothing special, has a mediocre restaurant and includes a small but accessible pool. The rooms come complete with kitchenette, balcony with table and chairs, and a couch worthy of lounging on to watch crappy TV films. (Hell, I needed a taste of Star Wars and Tomb Raider to relax.)

Upon leaving the hotel, you’re engulfed by heat. The breeze is refreshing and required to combat the suffocating humidity. I’m impressed by the green in this area and took a moment to walk through the tiny but lush Barnacle Park.

The open space and neon lawn just wasn’t enough to satisfy me; I sought something else, something to do. Finally I asked a local.

“There’s plenty to do around here,” the man replied enthusiastically, while the guy beside him grimaced. I was skeptical.

“Like what?”

“Like clubbing, partying, dancing, you know.” The man beside him nodded confidently. I rolled my eyes.

“How about at 11 in the morning?”

“Oh,” he responded, surprised by the question. “Like now? There’s nothing.”

Figures.

I’m being overly critical though: Coconut Grove is not all bad. For one thing, it’s dog-friendly. Pooches are invited into all shops and most restaurants. I love that; it reminds me of France. I’m now sitting on a lovely patio beside a couple with a dog, content to people watch and write. The restaurant is called Jaguar, which a fellow conference-goer said was fantastic. It is. Starting with the crisped pita and bananas served with spicy dipping sauce and throughout the Latin-inspired menu, the food is absolutely delicious. I’m sure my meal will finish with the fresh fruit sorbet combo – likely peach, passion fruit and mango… or should I try strawberry? I’m actually trying civiche for the first time… complimented by a gentle glass of sauvignon blanc.

Who said 11:30am was too early to start drinking?