Continued: Miami: Beyond  the beach

The man wanted to know if I'd be his girlfriend. He was joking -- I think -- so when I flashed my wedding ring, he laughed and pulled out his wallet. Was he going to try and sweeten his offer by persuading me to have coffee?

"Ésta es mi esposa," he said, pointing to a yellowed black-and-white portrait of an elegant young woman and a man with a thin mustache and styled black hair. "We got married in the '40s." The look in his eyes told me I didn't need to ask if she was still alive.

The photo was taken in Havana, where the man lived until he moved to Miami 11 years ago. His daughter, preserved in her father's wallet sporting a teenaged beehive and cat glasses, remains there.

We were standing in Maximo Gomez Park on the corner of 15th Avenue and Calle Ocho, or 8th Street, in Miami's Little Havana neighborhood. Named after Cuba's military commander in that country's War of Independence from Spain, this concrete patch of game tables shaded by a roof is also known as Domino Park because it's here that Cuban men -- and a few confident women -- come to bond over furious rounds of dominoes and chess. The prominently posted rules state that you have to be a resident of Miami and 55 or older to play. Alcohol is forbidden. Cigars, reminiscences and opinions, however, are welcome.

I was in Miami catching up with friends and family members. It's a trip I've taken close to 30 times, but this visit was different. I wanted to experience Miami beyond the sun and salt water that has soothed my pasty skin since I was in elementary school.

I understood even then that my family's vacation spot was decidedly more urban than my friends' pilgrimage sites: Sanibel, Naples and Pompano Beach.

For decades, Miami's retirement culture has been enriched by the existence of thriving Jewish, Cuban and gay communities. It's a bold city where taffy-colored buildings stand out against an aquamarine sky, and driving over Biscayne Bay to Miami Beach feels like you are literally floating toward a sunnier life.

Miami has been through highs -- think Frank and Dino crooning at the Fontainebleau Hotel -- and lows wrought by economic and racial conflicts. While its fixation on beauty and money may have bolstered its reputation with the glitterati, living among the tanned and toned can take a toll on your soul. The 70-year-old women I spotted a few years ago navigating the luxe Bal Harbour Shops in black leather hot pants didn't seem free-spirited, just sadly out of step.

I've always noticed these influences and contradictions, but the truth is that this most unique of American cities -- it feels more like Rio de Janeiro than neighboring Fort Lauderdale -- existed for me only as an exotic backdrop to a mostly standard beach vacation.

This time, I vowed I'd see what else Miami has to offer. I was lucky in that I had two very able local guides in my friends Tom Karlson -- a native Twin Citian -- and his Miami-born wife, Fatima Olive. Their love for nature, culture and delicious food would, I was certain, take me into pockets of the city I'd never experienced.

Tropical treasures

Located near the southern tip of Florida's Atlantic coast, Miami is as close to the tropics as you can get in the continental United States. Plants don't just grow in this climate. They climb and spread and flaunt their fluorescent blooms. Tom told me that the best place to see palm trees and other tropical plants in their glory is just south of downtown at the Fairchild Tropical Botanic Garden.

I hopped in my rental car and skipped the freeway in favor of driving south on Biscayne Boulevard. This Miami artery used to be the province of prostitutes and drug dealers. Today it hops with restaurants and boutiques peddling anything from gourmet hot dogs and tapas to European couture and Camper sneakers. You can also see examples of Miami Modernist architecture, or MiMo, including the Bacardi Building, which combines the style of Mies van der Rohe with an enormous Spanish-influenced mural in blue and white tile.

As it hits downtown, the street turns into Brickell Avenue, a boulevard of gigantic luxury high-rises -- many nearly empty thanks to the real estate bust -- including the Atlantis Condominium, the 21-story building with a five-story hole cut through the center that was featured in the opening credits of "Miami Vice."

Because Miami driving etiquette mandates that there is no speed limit, I was sweating by the time I reached Fairchild. But my heart rate settled the minute I set foot in the garden's impossibly lush 83 acres. It was early October and a hurricane-season storm was about to stir up the salty air, but I had time to wander past plants with leaves the size of German shepherds. Towering bamboo shoots seemed to grow in front of my eyes, like time-lapse photography.

Less than a mile away is Matheson Hammock Park and Marina. An oasis of nature trails -- heed the alligator warning signs -- and a man-made lagoon that's washed clean by the tidewaters of Biscayne Bay, it's a perfect picnic spot for families or a jumping-off point for a boating excursion. If you look south, the view is pure "Gilligan's Island." Turn around and the steel and glass angles of downtown Miami reflect off the water.

More natural, albeit highly manicured, greenery is on display in the gardens of Vizcaya, the former winter home of International Harvester executive James Deering, who lived there from 1916 until his death in 1925. Both the home and the grounds are a fantasy of self-invention; the mansion was designed to look like a 400-year-old Italian estate. The gardens combine elements of Renaissance Italian and French designs. Still, fake can be gorgeous, and this National Historic Landmark is a fascinating window into the early years of Miami.

Design lessons

Miami's current resurgence is due in part to the decision to capitalize on its art deco assets and become a leading center for fine art and design; the annual Art Basel Miami Beach, this year set for Dec. 4-7, is arguably the nation's most prestigious art show. Exploring the art deco splendors of South Beach is a design lesson in itself. But head to the Wolfsonian-Florida International University museum in South Beach for a more formal tutorial on the way that culture and design influence each other. Political propaganda, record players and travel postcards: They're all here in this gem of a collection.

Back across the bay, the Miami Design District is a mecca to the gallery scene and high-end home design. If you can't afford a $6,000 sofa, it's still worth a visit to experience the area's courtyards. The most exciting outdoor space is at Brosia, a Mediterranean restaurant that betrayed not a hint of snootiness midday. Geometric white pillars played against turquoise and green tiled walls. Girlfriends lunched, dealmakers talked on their cell phones and I happily admired the surroundings and dug into an exquisite prosciutto and fig sandwich.

The Design District is also home to Michael's Genuine, which many regard as Miami's best restaurant. Specializing in fresh, locally produced foods, it's chic, but again, not intimidating. Tom, Fatima, their 4-year-old daughter, Leela, and I ate dinner at a bar that looked into the kitchen.

"This is amazing," Tom announced after tasting a wood-roasted sweet onion stuffed with ground lamb and apricots. The panzanella was the best tomato dish I've had in my life.

We oohed and ahhed and I threw back perhaps one too many mojitos -- believe me, the restaurants in Miami have perfected this Cuban cocktail.

We'd crammed a lot into my four-day visit, including a stop at the Pelican Harbor Seabird Station, a rescue and rehabilitation center for birds injured or orphaned in Biscayne Bay, and a sweat-bath round of tennis at North Shore Tennis Center. (Its sister courts, Flamingo Park Tennis Center in South Beach, are Tom's favorite and a haunt of court star Anna Kournikova, a local.)

Still, my favorite moment in Miami was that encounter at Domino Park. Tom, Fatima and I had spent the morning gorging on pastellitos, or turnovers, stuffed with guava and cream cheese at Little Havana's famous Cafe Versailles. When I asked to visit Domino Park, they agreed, but clearly had reservations.

"They're not that friendly to gringos," Tom explained.

"But Fatima's Cuban," I said.

Truth be told, having Fatima -- and her flawless Spanish -- there did make me feel less like an intruder. So when my would-be suitor's photos fluttered out of his hands, we both hit the ground to save his precious memories.

When I handed him back his family portrait, he smiled.

"If I could grow back my hair, would you go out with me?" he asked.

The man, I decided, was a lot like his adopted city: nostalgic but adaptable. Pushy but with a sense of humor. We shook hands before I left, the clatter of dominoes echoing down the street.

Elizabeth Larsen • 612-673-7110