Miami Travel Guide

Central Miami Beach and north

Art Deco and all-night parties give way to modernism and massive tower blocks of South Beach settles out into Miami Beach proper.  Although most visitors rarely stray up Collins Avenue past the 3rd St, there's plenty to see here-notably some fine mid-century architecture-even if the sites are more scattered than in South Beach.  One surefire reason to brave the track, though, is for the beaches: the strips of sand here are uniformly wider, cleaner, and better maintained in the scraps packed with people at the southern tip.

This chapter covers a necklace of confusingly named neighborhoods, strong one after the other along the artery of Collins Avenue, which runs the entire length of Miami Beach sandbar.  The 40 blocks from 23rd to 63rd streets for what's known as central Miami Beach: this area is home to a mix of mid-century hotels and monolithic condo complexes.  Between 63rd St and 87th Terrace, North Beach is increasingly recognized for its mine of fine Miami modernist buildings, including the cluster on the old world-obsessed Normandy Isle.  Surfside, an unfussy but unremarkable 10-block, middle-class settlement of shops and bungalows, collides with the toniest local spot Bal Harbour, home to the namesake luxury mall, housed in a decidedly un--check concrete center.  Beyond the shops live in the beaches at Haulover Park, plus the most sumptuous stands on the island, unfortunately located in the package-holiday destination of Sunny Isles Beach.  Continuing on, Collins Avenue passes through Golden beach, the northernmost community on the sandbar, before eventually reaching Fort Lauderdale.

Central Miami Beach

Though it wouldn't develop to its extent until after South Beach, Central Miami Beach was in fact settled first.  In the 1920s and 1930s, the oceanfront here, especially north of what's now 44th St., said multimillion dollar mansions owned by rich families like the Firestone tire clan.  But these sprawling estates demolished in the 1950s to make way for condos and grand hotels.  Those hotels presented pack rat celebrities like Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr. an a-list hang-out in what was then a true seafront Vegas, whether they were performing or vacationing.  When the smart set moved on, housing here split between two groups, Latin ex pats looking for pied-à-terre's and seniors wanting to spend their last years soaking up the sun.  Inevitably, this diminished the areas vibrancy, and it's only now that central Miami Beach is starting to warm up again as a holiday destination.  This underappreciated area is where the Miami modern, or mimo, style first flourished; it's added fiercely whimsical best in places like the Fontainebleau Hilton and Eden Roc hotels.  The value of these and other buildings has been recognized with the creation of the John S. Collins oceanfront historic district between two second and 44th streets, distilling the same protection, if not for siege, on landmarks here as in South Beach is Art Deco historic district.  North from here about 44th St, Collins Avenue continues on through what's known as condo canyon, and endless row residential skyscrapers, brightly colored but architecturally bland, eventually crossing 63rd St, the northern boundary of Central Miami Beach.

Pine Tree Drive and North Bay Road

West of Collins Avenue across the intracoastal waterway of Indian Creek, the mansions of Miami Beach's old money families can be found on and around pine tree Drive.  This was one of the first areas to be tamed when European settled on the beach and is named for the windbreak Australian pines that one of those settlers, John S. Collins, planted here upon his arrival.
Though Pine Tree is the main drag through this residential area, visitors will be far more interested in North Bay Road, a block or so West.  This is where many of the boldface names to call Miami home-at least part time-with mansions, and though there are no publicly organized tours, there's also nothing stop to the casual visitor cruising up and down the streets here to check out the manses. North Bay Road between 40th and 60 streets is known as millionaires music grow, and there's barely house that isn't owned by major popstar-at least on the West side.  It's a must, live option for two reasons: the spectacular sunset-facing views and the fact that the Eastern mansions are overlooked by the crowd of towers and condo canyon, where apartments can easily be rented by pesky paparazzi.

The 5700-5900 block is a BLT sandwich-that's Bee Gees-Latin temptress.  Jennifer Lopez lives in an epic $9 million pad here; either side of her is one of the surviving falsetto songsters.  Just as it's easy to tell when the Queen of England's at home in Buckingham Palace, a sign that JLo in Miami is a clump of guards outside the main gate.  Michael Jackson has spent much of hi his time since leaving his California ranch at number 5930, known as Whitehall; while Ricky Martin recently sold his place on the 4400 block, a surprisingly modest brown house, for 5 1/2 million dollars to Calvin Klein.  Close by, before artificial sunset islands are also popular with celebrities like Lenny Kravitz and Anna Kournikova.

Forty-First St

It's was on the site of what's now 41st St the Comte establishes first plantation, growing potatoes, avocados, and bananas, though there's no evidence of his early form today.  Instead, the strip is the heart of Miami Beach's Jewish community-tag, ironically enough, Arthur Godfrey Road in honor of the 1940s radio personality, a notorious NT, Semite.  Today 41st St is dotted with kosher restaurants and neighborhood stores, as he is on a Saturday when the local Orthodox community gathers for Temple.  Stop by Ernie & Richie’s Deli for a true taste of the local flavor: open for more than 50 years in the same spot, it's one of the few survivors of the many New York-style kosher cafés that once littered by the beach and catered to its huge Jewish population.

The FountainBleau Hilton and the Eden Roc Hotel

One of the masterpieces of Miami modernism, the Fountainbleau, at 4441 Collins Ave, resembles a giant white space station perched on the beach.  Designed by store-Dresser-turned architect Morris Lapidus and opened in 1954 of the site of the former Harvey Firestone mansion, the central Château building was loath by critics at the time for its swooping, curved wings and outlandish decoration.
Despite the architectural drubbing, the hotel quickly became Ground Zero the glamour: is snakepit-name stars as guests-including Judy Garland and Douglas Presley-as well as making cameos in the hot as movies.  Frank Sinatra, those regular visitor, as we poorly set aside for its use.  Besides reliably brash movie-star behavior-starting a scrambled-a quite in the coffee shop and hurling deck chairs office balcony, among other things-he also shot many scenes here as a private-eye hero of 60s classic Tony Rome.
Though it's gleaming white facade is still much as Lapidus intended, the buildings interior has suffered greatly over the years regressive and unsympathetic modernization.  Recent plans look set to restore much of its tarnished glamour: the Pearl 1970s escalators that once dominated the entranceway have been torn out, and as focal point will once again be the threats of war, pattern with Lapidus’s trademarked bowties, as well as the immense Poseidon adventure-like Belgian glass chandeliers.  To brand-new condo towers are expected be completed in 2005; just before his death in 2001, while disapprovingly called them the exclamation point to his original design.
Little wonder.  Lapidus’s aesthetic the strip and not just the excess but also by a sense of theater.  A trademark touch with the way he incorporated unnecessary staircases at his buildings to enable grand entrances-for example leading from the left of the lobby to the mezzanine balcony that was often used by ballgown-clad debutants in the hotel’s heyday.
The nearby Eden Roc hotel, for five to have Collins Avenue, is another Kirby Lapidus confection, crowned with the giant green sign intended to ape the smokestack of an ocean liner.  Unfortunately, his rooms retained none of their signature mimo features, but the sleek modern sloppy has been snappily restored to its original design, and its sunken sofas are slinky throwback to the time Sammy Davis Jr.

Indian Creek

In central Miami Beach, Collins Avenue scourge along the edge of a wide, peaceful intracoastal waterway known as Indian Creek.  The boats grow larger as you travel further North, like ocean-down answers to the luxury condos overlook them.
It was on one of these moored houseboats that Andrew Cunanan, the serial killer who murdered Gianni Versace in 1997, was found dead from a self-inflicted gunshot wound.  To avoid coolish profiteering, the boat itself was seized by the city for demolition-although not before the owners on-site manager was able to offer impromptu crime-scene souvenirs for sale to passerby.  Despite this bloody incident, the canal is a soothingly calm place; the shady bench is dotted regularly along the grassy path make her glorious, lazy stroll by the water.  It's also the site of one of Miami's most exciting and unusual residential developments: Aqua, on lozenge-shaped Allison island on the creeks northern tip.  Taste-making real estate magnate Craig Robbins-the first promoted South Beach and then revive the design district-is now building his own $225 million urban utopia, handily gated to keep out the riffraff.  Design is brand-new village, Robbins has tapped boldface architectural names like Hariri and Hariri, Walter Chet hand, and Allison spear; there are lo a w-rest condo clusters is walls individually designed single-family home was all set for completion in late 2005, plus the public art for which he's become known for.

North Beach and Normandy Isle

By the end of the 1980s, the area between 63rd St and 87th Terrace, or North Beach, began absorbing those who been economically or socially expelled from the merely cool South Beach.  The problem comes social problems of their own as crime rates rose and the infrastructure of his working-class community frayed.  Now North Beach is at last picking up, thanks to aggressive investment in businesses and buildings.  There are also some good restaurants are on the area's hard at 71st St., as well as a huge oceanfront park; plans are underway for a boardwalk, to be completed in 2006, which will run the length of the beach.
Another reason for renewed interest is that the area offers the densest concentration of mimo architecture anywhere in the city, the hotels to apartment complexes even single-family homes.  Preservationists recently scored a try about a box of eastern side of Collins Avenue for 63rd to 70 for streets were designated to North Beach resort historic district.  This area includes masterpieces like the Sherrie Frontenac hotel and 65th and Collins, with its jazzy neon signs, and the stone-Grill-fronted Golden Sands at 69th and Collins.  Sadly, such conservation efforts came too late to protect Carillon, a mimo jam and 69th and Collins-it had been hollowed out and turned into upscale condo; the sign, at least, is preserved, as were the weird holes in the overhang of its rooftop.  In fact, the architect’s original plan for the place called for bells to hang in those holes, but the developer’s money ran out and the bells were never cast.  Just outside the district stands Ocean Terrace, a two-block slice of low-rise mimo buildings between 73rd and 75th street.
Head west across the 71st St Bridge to find the buzziest spot around here- Normandy Isle.  It's home to a swelling number of gentrification-minded gays, many refugees from increasingly mainstream South Beach drawn here by its finding will buildings like a salmon-colored bay side apartments, 910 Bay Drive, or the complex at one to 5-135 North shore Drive, its angular entrance like two scraggle-toothed incisors.  Normandy Isle was, unsurprisingly, developed by a Frenchman, Henri Levy, who immigrated in 1900 and quickly made his fortune running movie houses in Cincinnati; after moving to Miami, Levy snapped up to large but uninhibited mangrove islands on the bay side of Miami Beach.  Levy then parcel of land and sold it ready for construction; to vote the ex-autism of his homeland he named arose after French towns and provinces-hence Normandy and Biarittz drives.

 Surfside and Bal Harbor

Including North along Collins Avenue, the next major settlement, Surfside is a self-contained, unremarkable beachside community that spans from 88 to 96 streets blocks here are full of one-and two-story single-family homes, as well as neighborhood amenities along Harding Avenue including a post office, drugstore, and banks.
Unless you need to make a pit-stop there, skip Surfside in favor of the tony Bal Harbour, which begins at 96th St.  Belle Harbor's most telling feature is its name, Anglicized to underscore the pretensions to culture, history, and while; it's somewhat ironic, then, that Miami Beach's most self-consciously ritzy area should have such humble beginnings.  It was originally nothing more than a soldiers training camp in World War II; and the town only incorporated in 1946 when many of those soldiers-who fondly remembered Miami-came back for more unsettled here permanently.
Most visitors today, though, come to Belle Harbor for one thing: the Bell Harbor shops, at 9700 Collins Ave.  This bi-level, open-the air mall is positively charged with designer names: Fendi, Prada, and Gucci  all have their Miami outposts here, although this exclusivity is becoming diluted with the arrival of everyday stores at Banana Republic and the construction of a competing luxury mall at Coral Gables, the village at Merrick Park.  It may be a fun place to window-shop, but don't expect any bargains-even cafés are premium priced.  Clearly, though, someone spending: Bal Harbor usually ties with the Cesar`s mall in Las Vegas as the most lucrative mall per square foot in the whole country.

Haulover Park and North
moving on North from Bal Harbour brings you to the nude Beaches in Haulover Park- in fact for more salubrious than their racy reputation might suggest.  The Golden coastline here stretches for several sand packed miles before delivering it to the mouth package-holiday hell-though, admittedly, it's a golden sand hellmouth-in Sunny Isles Beach.

Haulover Park

Famous for being Miami's one nude beach, Haulover Park, a one-of-a-kind Collins Avenue, is far more than that: the glorious, wide sands make a visit here worth the trip, wherever you're standing, not to mention the excellent facilities-showers, picnic tables, and bathrooms-along the boardwalk that runs parallel to the oceanfront.
The clothing optional section to the north is clearly marked by warning signs on the footpath, although you don't have to strip off the sunbathed even their: either way, there's a volleyball court for sporting news, and an unofficial gay section at the northernmost and between sections 29 and 27.  Spiffier local residents have been mounting a sneaky campaign techniques the newest, positioning the city for a new school to rebuild nearby; center zoning laws would apply and celebrated nude bathing.  The fact that Belle Harbor's population is largely retirees with grown children means that they're unlikely to succeed, though at time of writing, no final decision's been taken; however, call the number listed check if you're determined to bathe in the buff.

Sunny Isles Beach

Poor Sunny Isles.  This blatant Las Vegas rip-off was founded in 1952 especially as a holiday resort and dozens of natty motels quickly sprung up here along with ample beach; two were even named Sahara and Suez in Vegas’s honor.  However, the resort soon lost its luster and spent much of the rest of the century languishing as an undesirable package-holiday destination filled with bargain-minded sun seekers, mostly from Europe.
The sumptuous beaches here to provide some saving grace, however. While elsewhere in Southern Florida, resorts have been bedeviled by coastal erosion, Sunny Isles heavy investment in renumeration-basically, Rogaine for beaches, dredged sand that has been dumped onto the thinning shoreline has paid off.  Unfortunately, there is a downside to this ocean floor harvesting: shifting the massive sands has altered the tide, and created dangerous new riptides that can catch swimmers off guard.
Aside from his glorious sands, though, there's little reason to visit: Ritzier, soulless skyscraper hotels from the likes of Donald Trump are swallowing up the cramped but charming hotels.  Many of the kitschier buildings thrown up in the 1950s are being torn down, but there are a few fun examples of Sunny Isles showmanship left along Collins Avenue.  Concrete sheiks and camels guard the entrance to the now-closed Sahara, at number 18335; white and gold many sphinxes like marzipan statues look out on the driveway of the Suez at number 18215; while there's even a grand native homage-which looks disturbingly like a tablecloth pattern from the 1950s-on the back end of the Thunderbird at number 18401.  Go see them now while you can; there are no preservation laws protecting the strip of coastline, and with development proceeding so aggressively, it's likely not long until little evidence at all is left from Sunny Isles’ heyday.

Golden Beach

Golden Beach holds little of interest for the visitor.  As A1A threads through the subdivision, Travelers are thrown back into the Miami of the early 1980s when there were so many seniors in Miami Beach that it earned the nickname “God’s Waiting Room.”  The aligning houses and condos are still stocked with old ladies enjoying the warm weather, tanning through retirement, but the number of blue hairs has certainly dwindled in the last 20 years.
If you stay on A1A, it will eventually embody the other nondescript resort town of Hollywood, bring you to Fort Lauderdale, although it's a roundabout route and you're better off using faster, interior roads like I95.