There are places we dream about visiting someday, and then there are places practically in our own backyard that somehow remain on that same list.
For me, one of those places was Miami.
I live in Florida just north of West Palm Beach. I've traveled all over the world, boarded more cruise ships than I can count, flown across the country for a weekend, and happily spent hours getting somewhere simply because I wanted to experience what was waiting at the other end.
But drive south to Miami for the day? I'd think about it. Then I'd think about the traffic. And I'd stay home.
It sounds ridiculous when I say it out loud, but anyone who regularly drives I-95 or even the Turnpike in South Florida probably understands.
It wasn't the distance that kept me away. It was everything that came with it. The traffic. The unpredictability. The parking. The possibility of spending a wonderful day in Miami only to end it staring at the bumper of the car in front of me for what felt like an eternity. Without realizing it, traffic had actually made my world smaller. Until I stepped onto the high-speed Yellow and Gray train in West Palm Beach, and Miami suddenly felt close again.
That's the thing I hadn't expected. Taking the Brightline didn't simply provide another way to get from West Palm Beach to Miami. It changed the way I thought about traveling within my own state. Places that had previously required a mental calculation suddenly became possibilities.
Could I go to Miami just for lunch? Absolutely.
Could I spend the afternoon exploring a neighborhood I'd somehow never really explored before? Why not?
Could I have dinner in the Design District and come home afterward? Yes.
Could I throw a suitcase together, stay overnight and turn an ordinary weekday into a mini vacation? Now you're speaking my language.
The mileage hadn't changed. My perception of it had. And that's when I realized something surprisingly important about travel. Sometimes you don't need a new destination. You need a better way to get there.
I boarded Brightline in West Palm Beach, but this didn't feel like transportation I simply had to endure before my Miami adventure could begin. That's when the adventure started for me. With a little advanced planning, I had my ticket, along with my cousin's ticket booked, and we did it in style. Brightline offers both Smart Fares and Premium Fares, and since this was a girls' weekend, I knew what I had to do. The easiest comparison I can make is that it's a bit like flying first class without having to fly.
While smaller than an airport lounge, the premium lounge at both the West Palm Beach and Miami stations felt even MORE luxurious than that credit card lounge that I use at the airport.
The seats are spaced well, each with sockets for your phone or computer, tables for all of the delicious snacks and drinks that are available, and an escalator that takes you down to the tracks without all of the hassle.
Beer or Wine? - yes, thank you. Tacos - don't mind if I do. Freshly baked cookies - okay, so who's counting calories anyway? With a stocked refrigerator and a "soda" machine that offers everything from water and soda to healthier options, I thought to myself that I should have gotten there a lot earlier.
What a great way to start a trip, and honestly, when compared to the cost of on-time lounge access at an airport, it was a bargain (especially once I realized what was to come on the train).
We boarded and realized that our seats were larger than first class on a domestic airline. The Premium experience continues once you're aboard, with more spacious seating and food and beverages included during the journey. Instead of gripping a steering wheel.
These are oversized, comfortable seats with lots of legroom. We got comfy, hooked up to the free WiFi on board, when the steward asked what I'd like to have to drink and eat. Now I was starting to regret having stuffed myself in the lounge. Oh well, there's always room for a bag of M&Ms and another drink of water, right? There's something delightfully decadent about sitting in a train station with a glass of wine and realizing you aren't going to be the one navigating South Florida traffic.
No wondering whether you've allowed enough time to get through security.
Just settle in with my airbuds and the book I was listening to.
I could have something to drink, check my email, listen to music, or finish listening to The Correspondent. I could look out the window, or simply do absolutely nothing. FYI, doing absolutely nothing is highly underrated. Particularly when someone else is doing the driving.
By the time I arrived in Miami, I didn't feel as though I'd just survived the trip there. I felt ready to go somewhere. That's a very different way to begin a day.
Book your ticket early for the best pricing at: GoBrightline
Little Havana had been sitting on my South Florida "someday" list for years. I'm almost embarrassed to admit that.
We have a funny relationship with the places where we live. We will research every tiny café before traveling to another country, yet somehow assume the interesting places near home will always be there when we finally get around to them. Little Havana was one of those places for me, and this time, I got around to it.
Almost immediately, I wondered why I'd waited so long. Walking along Calle Ocho doesn't feel like visiting another South Florida neighborhood. There is a sense of place here that is immediate.
You see it in the murals, storefronts, and galleries.
Most of all, you feel it in the people.
Music floats out of restaurants and bars. Spanish conversations spill onto sidewalks. Cuban flags hang alongside colorful artwork. There are cigar shops, cafés, galleries, and places that make you want to stop even when you have absolutely no idea what you'll find inside. So I stopped.
To me, that's the best way to experience Little Havana. Don't overplan it. Just wander.
One place I absolutely wanted to see was Máximo Gómez Park, commonly known as Domino Park. It's one of those places that tells you more about a neighborhood than something ten times its size ever could. It's small, but once you step into the playing area, it feels larger than it actually is. It feels vibrant and almost a little chaotic with all of the sounds of the dominoes being mixed on the tables.
People from the neighborhood have gathered here for decades to play dominoes and chess. The games are serious enough to make you understand immediately that this isn't a performance staged for visitors. You must be over 50 with a Maximo Gόmez Domino Club card to play, and they are used to people watching (and you'll find places to sit and watch from the benches). We were there mid-summer on a very hot day; the players are set up under a gazebo-type covering with tented sides to reduce the heat.
Tiles hit the tables, and you can hear the loud clicks as they mix them. Watching the players concentrate as if they were in a professional match was fascinating. Most of the people are talking and chiding each other about the game as the spectators watch. I watched in fascination. There is something wonderful about visiting a place and not needing to participate in it. Sometimes being a traveler means standing quietly and watching someone else's everyday ritual. The best part is that I didn't need a ticket; I didn't need a tour. I simply needed to stop long enough to appreciate what was happening in front of me.
Take a walk down Calle Ocho, as this is the main street of Little Havana. It's a walk that rewards people who are easily distracted. Fortunately, I qualify. A mural catches your eye, so you walk toward it. Music comes through a doorway, so you look inside. You see a shop filled with something interesting, so you stop. There's another gallery with another piece of art. You stop into a cigar shop (and if you're lucky, you'll see people hand-rolling cigars). You'll see both men and women in a cigar lounge area of the store enjoying their smoke.
You walk by a store selling Guayaberas. You pop in and buy one to bring home as a gift. Another smell comes from a kitchen. The front of the restaurant is open to the street, and there is music playing. So, you walk in and order a mojito. It's a real mojito, made like none other you've ever had. It's authentic; it tastes like what you imagine Cuba tastes like on a hot day with a cold drink.
This is why I wouldn't recommend treating Little Havana like a checklist. Yes, there are places you should see. But the space between those places is where much of the fun happens. One of the joys of travel is following your curiosity, and Little Havana makes that very easy.
Eventually, Calle Ocho led me to one of its most famous landmarks. Ball & Chain. The historic club dates back to the 1930s and has been part of Miami's entertainment history for generations. Back then, the neighborhood was different. It was a neighborhood that my grandmother would have spent time. Jewish immigrants who had made their way to the Southeast. In the 1940s, Ball & Chain provided a club for musicians who weren't welcome to play elsewhere. Singers like Ella Fitzgerald and Josephine Baker, Nat King Cole, and Louie Armstrong all took the stage at this iconic club. Today, it manages to celebrate that history without feeling trapped by it.
This isn't a museum where everyone whispers. It's exactly the opposite. There's live music, dancing, food, cocktails, and an energy that feels unmistakably Miami. The famous pineapple bandshell out back is worth seeing on its own, but Ball & Chain is really about atmosphere. Sit down and have lunch or dinner. Listen to the live music coming from the band standing in front of the window.
Have the best mojito you've ever tasted. Watch people dance or stay for Salsa or Bachata lessons. For me, Ball & Chain was exactly what I'd hoped to find in Little Havana.
My travel companion was from New England and had never had a Cuban Sandwich. Watching her smile after every bite was priceless. Me? I needed to try the empanadas, and they didn't disappoint. I love simple food done well, and this was perfect (had I been hungrier, I watched as people enjoyed Ropa Vieja - one of my favorite Cuban dishes).
Ball & Chain isn't simply a place to photograph, but a place to experience. I'll be back. For the food, the drink, the music, and the bartender playing maracas from behind the bar along with the Ball & Chain trio.
Ball & Chain Miami - 1513 SW 8th Street, Little Havana, Miami FL 33135
I have one very important piece of advice about eating your way through Little Havana. Do not get so full that you skip the ice cream. This is one of those spots that wasn't on our "must do" list like Domino Park and Ball & Chain were, but I can't imagine not visiting now that I've been. Across from Domino Park and next to Ball & Chain, you'll find Azucar Ice Cream Company. The enormous ice cream cone above the entrance makes it impossible to miss.
The shop is colorful, playful, and very Miami, with flavors that reflect the Cuban and tropical influences of the neighborhood. I had seen the photos on Instagram of beautiful people eating ice cream, but that's not why I went. I went because there was a flavor that I wanted to try.
Abuela María. It's a combination of vanilla ice cream, guava, cream cheese, and Maria cookies. Guava and cream cheese already have that wonderful sweet-tangy combination. Add the cookies and ice cream, and suddenly dessert becomes part of the cultural experience of Little Havana. That's one of the things I love most about food when I travel. It tells stories. Sometimes a single bite tells you something about a place that an hour of sightseeing can't.
Azucar Ice Cream 1503 SW 8th Street, Miami, FL 33135
One of the things I love about Miami is how quickly the city can change personalities. After an afternoon surrounded by the music, murals, dominoes, Cuban coffee and wonderful energy of Little Havana, I headed to the Miami Design District for dinner at Michael's Genuine Food & Drink. And suddenly, I was experiencing a completely different Miami.
The Design District is sleek and sophisticated, filled with contemporary architecture, art, galleries, luxury boutiques and restaurants. But Michael's Genuine doesn't feel as though it's trying too hard to impress you. There's something refreshing about a restaurant whose real attraction is what arrives on the plate.
Michael's Genuine has been part of the Design District since 2007, long before the neighborhood became the international luxury, art and design destination it is today. It is the flagship restaurant of James Beard Award-winning chef Michael Schwartz, who helped shape Miami's modern dining scene with an approach centered on fresh, seasonal ingredients and food that doesn't need unnecessary fuss to make it interesting.
There's a reason the word "Genuine" is in the name. The restaurant feels polished without being pretentious. You can sit inside near the energy of the open kitchen, where cooks work around the wood-burning oven, settle into a booth, grab a seat at the bar, or dine outside in the courtyard (the courtyard was being refurbished while we were there, so I wasn't able to experience it, but my son goes often and has shown me photos). That indoor-outdoor feeling is perfect for Miami.
And this is a restaurant where sharing is a very good idea. The menu lends itself to ordering several things for the table, which is my favorite way to eat when I'm somewhere interesting. I want a little of this, a bite of that, and inevitably a fork reaching across the table because someone ordered something that I really want to taste.
The current menu gives you plenty of reasons to do exactly that, with dishes such as crispy pork belly with kimchi, peanuts and cilantro, spiced lamb with charred eggplant and house pita, ceviche, a truffle pizza with fontina and taleggio, and a slow-roasted and grilled short rib with romesco and smoked almonds. Seafood also plays a starring role, including a chilled platter piled with lobster, stone crab, oysters and ceviche.
But what makes Michael's Genuine particularly interesting to me isn't one specific dish. It's the philosophy behind the food. This is ingredient-driven cooking where the goal isn't to disguise what's on the plate. The wood oven is an important part of the kitchen, turning out everything from vegetables and pizzas to fish and chicken. The food can be creative without becoming the sort of dinner where you need someone to deliver a five-minute explanation before you're allowed to pick up your fork, and as a former restaurant owner myself, I appreciate that.
After a full afternoon of exploring, I want dinner to feel special, but I also want it to feel like dinner, and Michael's manages that balance beautifully.
There's another reason it works particularly well as part of this Miami adventure. Michael's Genuine isn't simply a restaurant tourists discovered in the Design District. It's a Miami restaurant that has watched the Design District transform around it. When Michael Schwartz opened this restaurant, the neighborhood was a very different place. Nearly two decades later, the restaurant remains firmly planted at 130 NE 40th Street, still built around the idea of seasonal food and warm hospitality. That gives dinner here a sense of place.
Michael's Genuine is located at 130 NE 40th St, Miami, FL 33137
Call: 305.676.0894 for reservations
Earlier in the day, Little Havana had introduced me to Miami through Cuban culture, music, food, art and traditions that have shaped the city for generations. Now the Design District was showing me another side of it.
That's what made this day so much more interesting than simply choosing one Miami attraction and going home.
Miami isn't one thing. It's dozens of personalities living side by side. You can spend the afternoon watching dominoes slap against tables on Calle Ocho and a few hours later find yourself having dinner in one of the city's most stylish neighborhoods. And because I wasn't thinking about the long drive back up I-95, I could actually enjoy it. I could order another small plate. Have dessert. Linger over dinner. Walk around the Design District afterward and look at the architecture and public art.
There wasn't that nagging voice in the back of my head saying, "You know you still have to drive all the way home."
That may sound like a small thing. It isn't. It completely changes the way I experience Miami.
Brightline didn't simply make it easier for me to get to Little Havana. It gave me permission to make a day bigger. Little Havana didn't have to be the destination, and Michael's Genuine didn't have to be another separate trip I'd get around to someday. I could do it all. And if I wasn't ready for my Miami adventure to end after dinner? I didn't have to go home at all.
In a single day you can watch dominoes in Little Havana, listen to Cuban music, eat guava ice cream with cookies in it, browse contemporary design and finish with a beautiful dinner. That's not a bad return on a train ticket.
There is a moment when you walk into Maison Felix that feels a little like opening a secret door.
Outside is Miami Beach as we know it today. Bigger, louder, faster, flashier. A place where there always seems to be somewhere to go, something to see, a reservation to make, or a scene you are supposed to be part of. But tucked away on a quiet street in North Beach, just parallel to the neighborhood's coffee shops and restaurants, Maison Felix feels like an escape from what so much of Miami Beach has become.
It is intimate. It is beautiful. And perhaps most importantly, it is quiet enough to hear yourself think again.
The building was originally a condominium before being transformed into just 29 hotel rooms, and that residential DNA is still very much a part of its charm. My Aunt Dora lived in North Beach, and I remember visiting there when I was a child, which is why Maison Felix doesn't feel like a traditional hotel. It feels as though you have stumbled upon an impossibly stylish little European residence where someone has handed you a key and told you to stay awhile.
The rooms have a boho-vintage sensibility that somehow manages to feel both collected and completely modern. There is personality everywhere, especially in the spectacular artwork by Mark Cherry that hangs throughout the property (FYI, if you love what you see on the walls, it is available for sale). This isn't the generic artwork you barely notice in a hotel corridor. The art is part of the experience. You stop. You look. You notice.
Our room opened directly onto it through a sliding glass door, which meant that each morning I could look outside and see this beautiful little oasis waiting for me. The pool is surrounded by lush greenery, with loungers tucked beneath palms and umbrellas. It feels private and almost hidden from the world beyond the walls.
That feeling of being hidden away is really what makes Maison Felix so special.
There is a small gym if you feel the need to work out, although I personally think wandering to the beach and back should count for something. There is also a lovely breakfast room where mornings begin slowly, exactly as vacation mornings should. A barista makes coffee drinks while the continental breakfast includes everything from Suja and Pressed juices to beautiful croissants, cookies, and quiche.
After spending the day surrounded by the movement, music, and color of Little Havana, there's something rather lovely about retreating to a boutique hotel that feels like an oasis. And suddenly my day trip has become a getaway. The entire experience feels extremely European. Not European in the themed-hotel sense, but in the way the days seem to invite you to linger. Have another coffee. Sit by the pool. Read another chapter. Talk a little longer.
And that may be the real luxury here.
Maison Felix is the kind of place that makes you want to finally finish the book that has been sitting half-read on your nightstand for months. It is where girlfriends can claim a pair of loungers beneath the palms and spend an afternoon catching up on everything that has happened in each other's lives. It is where a couple can escape the routines that have somehow replaced conversation and remember why they chose each other in the first place.
But I think it may be even more special as a place to come back to yourself.
There are trips we take because we want to see something new, and there are trips we take because we need to feel like ourselves again. Maison Felix feels made for the latter. You can sleep late. Drink your coffee slowly. Sit beside the pool without feeling as though you should be doing something more productive. Walk to the beach. Read. Think. Do absolutely nothing. There is something wonderfully indulgent about giving yourself permission to stop performing your life for a little while and simply live it.
Sometimes renewal doesn't require a wellness retreat, a complicated itinerary, or a week of scheduled treatments. Sometimes it is a beautiful room, a quiet pool, a croissant and coffee in the morning, a book in your hand, and nowhere you need to be. And sometimes it is simply remembering that you are worth taking this time for yourself.
That doesn't mean you are isolated from Miami Beach. Quite the opposite. One of the charms of Maison Felix is that everything is close when you want it, but you can retreat from it when you don't.
The hotel sits just off the main neighborhood area, where you will find cute coffee shops and places to eat. There is no restaurant at Maison Felix itself, but there are good restaurants within walking distance. The beach is less than a five-minute walk away in North Beach, or NoBe as you'll hear it called, and hotel guests have chair and umbrella service there. You can spend the morning by the ocean, wander the neighborhood for lunch or dinner, and then slip back through that almost-secret entrance into your little sanctuary.
And "sanctuary" really is the word that kept coming to mind.
Miami is exhilarating, but it can also be exhausting. Maison Felix gives you permission to experience the city differently. You can dip into Miami's energy when you want it and then return somewhere that feels protected from the noise. For couples, it is a place to reconnect. For girlfriends, it is a place to talk until you suddenly realize three hours have passed. For the reader who keeps saying, "I really need to finish that book," bring it. For someone who has spent too much time taking care of everyone and everything else, come alone if you want to.
Because perhaps the most unexpected thing about Maison Felix is that it doesn't simply feel like a place to stay in Miami Beach. It feels like a place for respite. A place to renew and rejuvenate the soul. A place to remember what it feels like to move slowly, notice beautiful things, and have absolutely nothing expected of you. It is intimate, artistic without feeling pretentious, luxurious without screaming about it.
And in a city that has become very good at screaming for your attention, Maison Felix whispers.
Maybe that is exactly why I loved it. It feels like finding a secret door in Miami Beach, opening it, stepping through, and discovering a world you never expected to be there. And for a few days, you get to make that world your own.
Book your stay at Maison Felix 7418 Harding Avenue, Miami Beach, 33141
Call : 386 882 9181 for reservations
I used to think of travel in terms of distance.
But I'm beginning to think that's the wrong measurement. Maybe travel is really about discovery. On this trip, I discovered a neighborhood I'd somehow missed despite living in South Florida. I watched dominoes being played in a park that has served as a community gathering place for generations. I followed the music. The streets were a living, breathing museum with beautiful art. I stopped and smelled, and then I ate. I ate Cuban specialties, award-winning food, and an ice cream I couldn't get anywhere else.
That's when I understood what this whole experience had really given me. It hadn't simply connected West Palm Beach and Miami. I had connected to places I'd stopped considering and started doing. My world hadn't actually been small. I'd just been setting borders. Now, instead of looking south and thinking about I-95, I'm thinking about where I haven't been yet.
And that may be the best thing that this trip did for me.