In Papa's House       The following day I woke up at 10:00 am for some ungodly reason. I went to       the pool bar and had lunch accompanied by 4 Long Island ice teas. I sat by       the pool and read for a while, wrote in my journal then, with a mighty       buzz on, took a shuttle bus downtown.       I exited near Bahama Town, the black area of the city where open markets       hawk fresh fruit and roosters roam the streets. I walked a few blocks       already sweating out 90 proof. I came upon the lighthouse museum where the       oldest lighthouse in the Keys still stands. I went in and entered the       lighthouse to ascend for the best view of the island from land. 88 steps.       Eighty eight steps up a narrow spiral staircase through a brick oven. By       the time I reached the top I was panting and dripping and I think near       death. I was also sober...which was not on my agenda. But the view was       worth the chest pains and wobbley ankles.       Across the street was the Ernest Hemingway House where the writer lived       all during the thirties. Now it was a museum. As a fan of the written arts       there was no way I could not visit...even if I have found Hemingway's work       to be a bit overblown. The man turned a fascinating and adventurous life       into a series of mediocre novels. I still had to go.       The house and grounds are beautiful...and populated by dozens and dozens       of cats, some with six toes on each foot. Papa took in all sorts of stray       cats and the felines living there today are the descendents of the       originals. They cats are everywhere. I befriended one laying in the middle       of a garden path...petting him, talking to him...then he mewled...and cats       came from everyhere. It was eerie. I wasn't sure what it meant but it was       ominous. Out of the bushes, down both ends of the path they came...closing       in. Ambush! I stepped gingerly past some of them and hurried to the front       of the house. The cats did not follow but watched me leave. As I pondered       what it all meant I found myself inside Papa's house. My tour of the       placed earned from me a new respect for the man, if not as a writer then       as a person. He lived an amazing life. I highly recommend a tour of this       lovely house for visitors to Key West. And don't pet the cats. They travel       in packs.