When: August 19, 2021
Where : Ybor City
Why: Cruisin’ for a Bruisin’
Susan and I took a little road trip to the Tampa/St Pete area as another installment of our “Explore our new home state” series. At the risk of offending some of you, St Petersburg was simply not our cup of tea. Despite it’s beautiful beach, St Pete itself has as much soul as The Osmonds (and that may be generous because even Donny sang “One bad apple don’t spoil the whole bunch, girl”). It’s a place where the condominiums all seem to be filled with people from Wisconsin who say “golly” a lot.
The real attraction for us was Ybor City (pronounced, “EEE-Bore”, like Igor only with a “b” instead of a “g”).
Ybor City is a US National Historic Landmark District just a few short trolley stops from downtown Tampa. It’s history is mostly Cuban and in the late 19th century, was known as the cigar capital of the world. Despite the mostly Cuban and Hispanic influences, back then, Ybor boasted a diverse population of Spaniards, Italians, Germans, and Romanian Jews. This was quite unusual for the state of Florida at that time. By 1900, Ybor was producing, for both the domestic and export markets, the finest cigars in the world…even surpassing their beloved Cuba.
Below, you will find some of my impressions as I hope to transport you, the reader, to the sites, sounds, and smells of this historic district.
The easiest way to get to Ybor is to take the TECO Line Streetcar (also known as “The Trolley”). It is free and charming. The trolley cars are replicas of the originals and connect several of Tampa’s distinct districts. While the trolley is quaint, Ybor ain’t.
Travelling from Tampa’s shiny downtown hub to Ybor is like being transported by the old Hollywood trick whereby the character walks into a painting or poster and is immediately transformed to that time and place. Even if the trolley was equipped with a flux capacitor, it wouldn’t be needed since Ybor already seems content on remaining the same.
Replace the asphalt with dirt and parking meters with hitching posts and the place would pretty much still be recognizable to Vincente Martinez-Ybor, the namesake founder, Jose Marti, a Cuban revolutionary who sought refuge and support from Ybor residents, and the Sicilian mamas who learned how to roll stogies while their husbands were off building Tampa and New Orleans.
Make no mistake, there is no Starbucks, Anthropologie, Pottery Barn, or Lululemon within miles of Ybor. There are no corporately mandated store policies here and there are no staff shortages because most of the establishments don’t employ anyone anyway. These are not shops commandeered by pretty bi-racial millennials offering robotic salutations or complimentary hand sanitizer. Neurotic shoppers should definitely approach Ybor with trepidation.
Instead, you can enjoy a hand-rolled Corona or Robusto inside several of the cigar factories who still operate. Smoke at the large oak tables soaked in a cigar smoke patina while sipping a creamy and potent Cuban coffee. Conspire of revolution and conquest with your muchacho’s (or wife). It’s all part of Ybor’s essence.
For a bite, you can head to Big Al’s Finger Lickin’ Good BBQ. Al’s smoker and grill are on the front lawn as if to invite the diner to pick his/her own pork butt like a lobster tank. But you can’t. But what a fine idea if you could and when I mentioned it to Al, he just nodded as if to say “what next, T-shirts and eating contests”?
If you have a fancy dress party to attend or are in need of a hat or fine suit, head to La France, a vintage clothing shop for men and women. Make no mistake, La France is not schlock or goodwill material. Here, you can find vintage quality clothing and just like anything of quality, it will cost you. The shop girl said that many Hollywood and Theater costume designers come to the shop to find era appropriate clothing.
As we were, you might be lucky enough to spy a very healthy and confident Rooster strutting his stuff down one of the cobblestone streets. We guessed he was out for some exercise and a meal before his headlining fight slated for the small morning hours.
When we boarded the trolley back and crossed into the next district, I swear I heard an audible “pop” when everything went from sepia to the bright blues of a modern Tampa – sun-kissed by its own twinkling bay. You see, I came to appreciate that Ybor is one of those unique places whereby going backward would ironically represent progress. Maybe this is what Big Al’s nod meant all along.
If and when in Tampa, give Ybor a visit but don’t go at night. Folklore has it that the ghosts come out at night…and also the meth-laced hookers.
Time to go back for a visit xo