Sports & Recreation

Since Wei Lun Huang won in 1998, the popularity of this “Best Ancient Chinese Secret” has spread far and wide (and word has probably even reached the Great Masters he studied with back in China). Master Huang’s patience with students is legendary and his skills in the internal martial arts (tai chi chuan, qigong, liu he ba fa, and ba gua, among others) are over the top. While his teaching style may seem unorthodox to some (especially to those who’ve dealt with hippy-dippy, New Age instructors), the results are so astounding that among Master Huang’s loyal students are several teachers as well. A point of enlightenment to inspire your beginning: Meditation is just as important to performance as are technical skills. You can find his casual Monday-night class behind the North Miami Beach Public Library. Because he travels for numerous out-of-town seminars, it’s imperative to keep tabs on Master Huang’s schedule either by phone or through the Website.

Homestead is equal parts agricultural business headquarters, quaint tourist town, and Old South country village. Any guesses which category a shop called A-OK Fish ‘n’ Bait falls into? You can purchase most any kind of bait here: spinners and shiners, grubs and topwaters, even live shrimp. But the real treasure is the conversation. Homestead anglers get their goods here (not from the Orvis Website), and they’re known to tell a tale or two. Stick around, and you might learn something about fishing in South Florida. Some of what you learn might even be true.

To hard-core bikers, pedaling through ungentrified parts of a city is more an exercise for the imagination than for the body. And the south side of Wynwood, with its plethora of factory buildings, graffiti-covered walls, and commercial signage, offers plenty to think about. Begin at North Miami Avenue and 36th Street, heading south. Note the string of art galleries along the west side, a sign that gentrification is around the corner. Soon you’ll pass a hatbox of a building, the lovely Dorissa of Miami factory on 27th Street. Turn west on 27th and begin winding through the neighborhood to NW Fifth Avenue. You’ll have biked by some of Miami’s oldest homes, and businesses with painted signs advertising shoes, handbags, and synthetic or human hair. Keep heading west to NW Sixth Avenue, where you’ll run into Interstate 95 humming with traffic. About two blocks south rest the ruins of the RC Cola bottling factory. Its perimeter wall has some of the best graffiti in Miami. Interspersed along NW Second Avenue are little cafeterias where you can stop for a beer. At NW 22nd Street turn east and face the mighty Continental Heidelberg Cement Factory. Though it may seem intimidating at night, the trip is worth the adventure. The glow of street lamps and security lights makes everything appear funkier, and any danger you sense is probably just your imagination.

We searched long and hard for the best clothing-optional beach and came up empty. Well, maybe not empty, but without a winner. South Beach provided the hunting grounds. First it was off at Third and Ocean, where a bounty of bronzed Brazilians, in full splendor, were walking around wearing nothing but floss, just as they do in Rio and the rest of their nation. Around Fifteenth through Eighteenth streets we saw an unusual number of other tourists flashing flesh. After extensive, grinding, drooling — er, grueling — sifting through a sea of suitless tanners, we had to face the realization that, thanks to the wonderfully amoral nature of Miami’s citizens, there are no longer any boundaries when it comes to drop-top bikinis. Block after block of beach features people wearing what they wore when they were born, although females exposing their breasts are the most common nudephiles. That’s why this year we give this award to all the sunbathers who made South Beach the biggest, coolest wardrobe malfunction this side of the Super Bowl.

Maybe Oleta River State Recreation Area (3400 NE 163rd St., North Miami) is the perpetual winner in this category, but since Amelia Earhart won “Best Place To Mountain Bike” back in 1999 and then slipped a few notches, drastic improvements have been made, thanks mostly to the volunteer efforts of a local cycling group known as In Da House, a mountain-bike crew that cares. These cyclists have weeded, repaired, cleaned, and made improvements to the park just as it seemed on the verge of being declared unsafe (and off-limits) for bikers. It’s still not a technically oriented biking location (there’s the occasional mud hole and such), but that makes it all the better for newcomers to the booming sport who have felt the patronizing glares of experienced mountain bikers at other trails. How do you become a winner? Work at it.

We’re not recommending a specific trail or route through this historic agricultural district, but we do recommend you explore it on foot sooner than later. The building boom exploding throughout the southern part of the county means it’s only a matter of time before the quiet back roads and fragrant groves and colorful nurseries and lushly landscaped ranch homes are but a memory. A good place from which to set out is the county’s 32-acre Fruit and Spice Park (24801 SW 187th Ave., 305-247-5727), a unique collection of some 500 types of fruits, nuts, spices, and herbs. Prepare for sun, heat, bugs, and road-hogging farm equipment.

Wifflegolf is the generic title for the various forms of golf using plastic or rubber balls and not using a golf course. There are many types of plastic balls to choose from, some thin and some thick, some with no holes and some with big holes. The best course in Miami is Country Walk, but any neighborhood heavy on houses and light on traffic works. To begin, design the course. First tee is your own driveway. First “hole” is the stop sign at the corner. Some players insist that only putters be used, while others prefer to allow wedges for more advanced play. You knock your first shot into the street, attempting to get close to the middle without going over it so your ball will roll on the road as far as possible before slowly spinning into the grass. (Miami streets are all tilted down from the middle for drainage purposes.) The second shot generally involves a short chip aimed to land a few feet in front of the sign. Then tap your harmless orb in. (As this isn’t a hole, you need only hit the sign.) Par three — unless a car runs over your ball, which hurts, or the wind has its way, or a dog joins the game. The next hole is that giant ficus around the corner (a sort of dogleg). Loft your tee shot over the roof of the blue house next door, then use spin to go around the hibiscus bush….

This bayside park at the eastern terminus of the Venetian Causeway was recently renamed to honor the Bee Gee brother who died in January 2003. (The brothers’ private recording studio is a block away. Maurice loved the park.) A free boat ramp and adequate parking make this a good place to launch and for a variety of paddle adventures. Head northwest into the expanse of Biscayne Bay and its spoil islands. A southern route will take you along the Beach’s mushrooming skyline toward Star Island, Government Cut, Fisher Island, and the open ocean. On either side of the park are canals that wind through residential neighborhoods and provide access to Indian Creek, which leads to La Gorce Island and beyond. Helpful hint: Bring along a map.

Considered one of the finest charities in the nation, the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation is a model of how a charity should work. Administrative costs are kept down while a significant percentage of funds raised through local affiliates remains in the communities where the money was donated. This race qualifies as the big-money benefit for a great cause. Approximately 1.5 million runners participate in the 5K run/walk, which is conducted in many locations. The local race takes place every October in Bayfront Park, winding its way through downtown and the Brickell area. (There’s also a race in West Palm Beach.) Runners are separated into divisions that include one specifically for survivors of breast cancer. You can also join a one-mile walk or enter your kids in the tot run. Ceremonies pay tribute to cancer victims and celebrate the success of survivors. A good way to take over downtown (known to shut down completely for the filming of terrible Hollywood movies) for a cause that matters.

Haulover took this award in 2002. Then, as today, it had competition, most of it from Key Biscayne. That island’s eight-mile-long eastern shore offers the full range of amenities, from crowds and condos to seclusion and wilderness. (It has also won this honor twice.) South Beach, once a strong contender, can no longer be given serious consideration. Its fatal flaw: congestion. You can spend half the day (and a small fortune) just parking your car. Parking, however, is never a problem at Haulover, where the lots cover many acres and the price is a reasonable $4.25. But Haulover’s greatest attraction is its spaciousness. South of the crowded clothing-optional area it is possible, even on holiday weekends, to claim a patch of sand without feeling like you’re crashing someone else’s party. Often the place seems deserted, a rare luxury these days.

Overtown is a slum and the last place you’d expect to see real estate whiz, revered art collector, and poster man for the rich and powerful Marty Margulies. But there he was one day, noticing how kids on NW Fourteenth Street were hanging and banging, preparing for a future in dope slinging or gangsta pimpin’. Some may have been plotting escape, but that’s a lofty dream down here. Margulies — a rare if not unique mix of developer-smarts and goodness-of-heart — whipped out $2.5 million and had built the terrific 18,000-square-foot complex known as the Overtown Youth Center. About 200 children have joined the new facility, which boasts spiffy classrooms, a fine auditorium, lockers, showers, computers, and the best basketball court in town. Alonzo Mourning, who appeared at the center two months and two days after a kidney transplant to speak to the children, has used his charities to fund day-to-day expenses. Only children who are members of the center’s after-school program can use the gorgeous court, but they play teams from around the county and anyone can attend. Also, the OYC is part of Gibson Park. Walk past the Chinese restaurant and the church, across the park’s grassy knoll, and, at the southern end, you’ll find excellent courts where anyone can play.

After a costly two-year construction delay, the ice rink at the Scott Rakow Youth Center is finally open. The rink, at 125 feet by 60 feet, replaces the cramped one, which will be turned into a gymnasium as renovations continue. Most of the facility’s, um, facilities are new. Because of the special times assigned to different age groups (particularly adults), be sure to call the center before visiting. Go ahead and sweat it up, then enter this comfortably cool oasis, where a bit of figure skating or hockey will keep the perspiration coming. Then go jump in the full-size swimming pool. It’s not new. But it sure is wet. And refreshing.

One of South Florida’s natural bragging rights is the ability to see both sunrise and sunset over vast expanses of water. We cry for the people of Iowa and Kansas every time the purple and orange and yellow paint the horizon with fire. Try it: Find the precise sunrise and sunset times for any day of the year (aa.usno.navy.mil/data/docs/RS_OneDay.html is one source). Begin your trip from the pier in South Pointe Park at the southern tip of Miami Beach, where you’ll see the sunrise over the Atlantic and perhaps meet some straggling, staggering clubbers on their way home. Then hop over to Little Havana, load up on café and pastelitos. Take the Tamiami Trail (U.S. 41, or, in the city, SW Eighth Street) west. Stop at the Shark Valley Visitors’ Center for a glimpse of the Everglades while strolling away the leg cramps from all that driving. The Miccosukee Indian Village is the next stop, the perfect place to grab some lunch and see how the natives survive in their Everglades. If you’re ahead of schedule as you pass Everglades City, visit Tin City in Old Naples for super shopping. Stay south while heading west in Old Naples and you’ll easily locate Naples’s beach and its venerable pier (25 Twelfth Avenue S.). Dolphins often gather beside the pier, picking up lost bait and the fish attracted by all those anglers. Go to the end, lean on the wooden rail, and enjoy the sunset over the Gulf of Mexico. Ponder the notion of coming back.

Arrrr, mateys. Ya can join th’ landlubbers over at Pennekamp or Biscayne National, sissy sinking it’s called, or ya can have a real ol’ time adventure down the way at San Pedro’s grave. Way the hell back in 1733, a husky blow doomed a Spanish treasure fleet to Davey Jones’s place, and another time a 270-ton ship of Dutch origin known as the San Pedro sank to her watery end a little more than a mile off Indian Key (in eighteen feet of sapphire-color seawater) at a place name o’ Hawk Channel. While some dag-blamed scalawags have stripped her of her treasures, there remains a mother lode of excitement at this spot near Islamorada. Crusted ballast stones mark out the shape of the Dutch galleon (the wood body, like the golden age of seafaring, is long gone), while replica cannons and the ship’s actual anchor add picturesque elements. At 271 years of age, the San Pedro might be Florida’s oldest “artificial reef,” but the fish and crabs judge not. Mooring buoys provide anchorage for schooners and kayaks alike, and if ya be without sails, hire a boat and captain at nearby Islamorada (“the purple island”). Have a mug or three of mead while ya wait.

You’ve gotta have balls to play the tenth hole at this course, formerly known as the Links at Key Biscayne, and still known as Key Biscayne Golf Course, Crandon Park Golf Course, and Crandon Golf Course (all the same place, we promise): With water on both sides and frequent gusts of wind, the most seasoned pro risks lobbing a couple of shots into the school of barracuda swimming the ocean shallows. To make the par five even trickier, the Crandon crew keeps the grass short and the green fast. Zip. Zing. Splash! There goes another one just like the other one. But for all the damage to your ego, the challenge can prove invigorating and the view breathtaking. With the Miami skyline to one side and what looks like the whole expanse of the Atlantic Ocean on the other, you won’t mind losing a Titleist or two. Okay, three.

While many would say the Venetian Pool at 2701 De Soto Blvd. in Coral Gables is the obvious winner, there’s another spring-fed swimming hole in Miami-Dade that deserves attention and attendance. The 35-acre lake that serves as the centerpiece of the Larry and Penny Thompson Park boasts white sandy beaches and three water slides that are open on weekends throughout summer. Not only do bathers have more space to play around in, but bored landlubbers can make use of paddleboats or fish from the pier. There’s much more to the park than just water activities. Camping, bridle trails, hiking paths, and playgrounds are spread over 270 acres. An almost secret treat in South Miami-Dade, and, as pools go, a natural source of wonder and fun.

Here’s one very enjoyable way to experience this 975-acre jewel of a county park, the lasting legacy of the Matheson family: On a weekend morning, load up the bikes and drive to Key Biscayne and the public parking lots on either side of Sundays on the Bay. (Parking here is free.) Unload the bikes and head to Crandon Boulevard. Just south of Sundays’ entrance is a street crossing. On the far side a bike path meanders for nearly two miles through the Bear Cut Preserve, an ambitious and successful reclamation project. You’ll move through palm thickets lush with ferns before reaching an intersection. Turn left to a recently opened observation deck overlooking Bear Cut and the vast Atlantic. Double back and continue past the intersection and through more wild greenery. Eventually the bikeway opens onto Crandon Park proper. Just beyond the Marjory Stoneman Douglas Biscayne Nature Center, turn onto the concrete promenade that separates beach from parkland. The ride along this path is a journey through multiethnic, polyglot Miami, as all variety of families will be gathered under shade trees and pavilions for birthday parties and barbecues, music and impromptu dancing. Keep to the left and the famous white sands of Crandon’s beaches appear as if on a postcard. At the promenade’s southern end you’ll come upon a cluster of charmingly restored rental cabanas. Turn right to enter the expansive children’s area, featuring a carousel, cushioned skating area, and several water attractions. The Gardens of Crandon Park (last year’s winner of this award) lies at the edge of the parking area. Consider this your turn-around point, but before returning, take plenty of time to explore the gardens, where many surprises await. After a picnic lunch on the garden’s grounds or at one of two concession stands, survey the park’s interior, where you’ll find more family areas, a full-size running track, athletic fields, and baseball diamonds. Yes, it’s a lot to take in, but it’s a big and beautiful park — Miami’s best.

Experienced anglers know to check them for live baits, but the public is generally unaware that in clumps of yellow-brown seaweed exist miniature aquariums waiting to be unveiled. Sargassum floats (thanks to spherical growths full of carbon dioxide) on the ocean currents. Early summer, when the water is calm and the sargassum gently drifts in, is the perfect time to show youngsters the marvelous bounty of the sea. Grab a clump of weed off the surface (sunken or dark brown weed is too old) and shake it over a bucket of ocean water. Like jewels from a pouch, out spills a variety of tiny creatures: juvenile versions of bigger fish that use the weed as a nursery. Crabs, shrimp, sea horses, nudibranch (called sea slugs), and other adult creatures also inhabit the weed. The most interesting resident is the sargassumfish, which looks exactly like a piece of weed until it flops away as you draw near. Sargassum’s many wonders should keep the children occupied until their skin turns red and they volunteer to call it a day.

More a jumping-off point to any number of fishing holes, Flamingo, at the south end of Everglades National Park, provides access to hundreds of catching spots. Rent a canoe and paddle through the webs of mangroves while looking to hook a snook, outsmart a mutton or mangrove snapper and, bam, dinner’s almost ready. Rent a “real” boat and glide into Florida Bay for spotted seatrout, redfish, or the fierce, inedible fighters called tarpon, which usually flash by near Flamingo’s marina. Drive or boat a few miles to the north and put out a line for bass or tilapia in the freshwater rivers and bays. The park provides a beautiful verdant and teal setting for all that angling. And the sunset over Florida Bay is no more tangible but endlessly more pleasurable than the lunker that got away.

For most people around here, a rural bike ride starts with a car trip. If you’re going to load up the bike and drive, you may as well drive far enough from the city to make it worthwhile. That’s where the Loop Road comes in. Almost any time of year, under almost any conditions, it’s a treat. Roughly four miles along the Tamiami Trail beyond Shark Valley (Everglades National Park 25 miles west of the turnpike), the Trail angles northeast. At the bend an unmarked road intersects and runs to the south. That’s the Loop Road, so designated because roughly 22 miles later it hooks up again with the Trail. Drive till the pavement ends at a National Park Service educational facility. Now you can unload the bike and head out. If it’s been raining, you’ll take a mud bath. Otherwise it’ll be a relatively smooth ride. Along the way (and you don’t have to do all 22 miles) you’ll encounter some glorious swamp scenes — deep pools, gators, fish, thick vegetation, and of course lots of cypress trees. You’ll also probably come across a fisherman or two, and catch a glimpse of a rugged hunting lodge here and there. Mainly, though, you’ll have the road to yourself. Bring plenty of water, insect repellent, and a pump or patch kit or both.

Hurry, you won’t have this opportunity for long. At the eastern edge of this forlorn city park you can spread a blanket, open the picnic basket, pop a cork, and kick back to take in a spectacular view. Directly ahead lies Biscayne Bay, glittering brightly in the sunshine. As your gaze rises, Government Cut leads you straight to the sea along a perfectly symmetrical visual corridor. The effect is almost startling in its formal composition. Even when cruise ships are docked along the south side of the cut, the effect remains. In the early evening, those ships become spectacles themselves as they slowly rotate in the turning basin right in front of you. Why hurry? Because the abandoned park will in the not-too-distant future become a massive construction site. When the renovated Bicentennial Park is finally complete, the fantastic views will still be there, but today’s rustic appeal will be forever gone.

Public sex is both decadent and depraved, a violation of the social contract, and sometimes as grimy as eating from garbage cans. There’s really nothing sensual or romantic about outdoor lewdness. That said, bypass playing-it-safe spots like a park bench secluded by foliage, a dark corner in one of SoBe’s clubs, or a golf course at night. Public sex is less about a hidden turn-on than it is about candidly getting off. So if you have the nerve, or lack of scruples, and the desire to take your private affairs public, consider the alley between busy Collins and Washington avenues. Behind the famous dive Club Deuce, just next to a city Dumpster (we’re thinking in terms of sordid sights, not just smells), you and a lover, or lovers, can screw each other’s “brains” out in full frontal view of passing club kids, tourists, vagrants. Don’t be surprised if, after you’re done, a pile of dollar bills sits on the ground next to the pants around your ankles (a reminder that the city has relegalized street performances, though the limits gauging obscenity remain unclear). Warning: police patrols? Nah. If cops start rousting people for harmless fun, like safe sex in public, then they should be prepared to explain why their time isn’t being devoted to stopping murders, rapes, assaults, robberies, pot smoking. Uh, not pot smoking. Arson. Yeah, arson’s what we meant. Got that, occifer?

The local avian population has been spreading wings with excitement spawned by the people-watching at the Frog Pond lately. There’s been so much activity, they’ve been inviting their out-of-town cousins to the area for an aerial glance. Actually “Lucky Hammock,” as it’s known to birders, is a popular location thanks to the variety of birds found there, including several species that technically don’t belong in South Florida. It’s a Wildlife Management Area run by the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission, which means it’s property set aside specifically for conservation and recreation, which means living wildlife for your viewing pleasure. Best bet: About a half-mile before the Everglades National Park boundary, turn south onto Aerojet Road and park about a quarter-mile south of Palm Drive. Welcome to Lucky Hammock, and happy hunting.

Coconut Grove’s jewel of a public space, David T. Kennedy Park, accommodates people-accompanied dogs on leashes with verdant paths through palm groves and ad-hoc soccer sessions (dog chases ball, kids laugh). The northeast corner of the park provides the ultimate, though, with a lovely fenced area where dogs are welcome to ditch those leashes (and their owners) to engage in dog life with the pack of canines cavorting there. Vigilant humans keep the area free of refuse, and the antisocial behavior of the occasional lumbering wolf hybrid or illegal pit bull is dealt with politely but firmly through peer coercion. After the four-pawed running around like crazy and sniffing butts and breath comes exhausted panting. Soon you and your pooped pooch reunite, all wags, wet kisses, and muddy-paw pouncing upon your clean white T-shirt. Sit with your furry best friend on one of the park’s many benches, where the bay winds blow, and imagine what the mutt must be thinking: “That chihuahua acted so macho until he saw me” … “What a dork that white mongrel was” … “When do we eat?”

Anyone can skate Ocean Drive, but it takes a real thrasher to backflip off a ten-foot ramp and land, grinding, on a rail. Monday is BMX night and Saturday draws crowds, but every other night Control Skate Park is in the business of letting skateboarders and rollerbladers jump quarter-pipes, half-pipes, or simply (ha!) slide down rails. The indoor park features a toyland of cool stuff made by 25-year-old owner Matt Cantor. An all-day session costs seven bucks and entitles customers to jump anything and everything in the place. During February, Control expanded by adding a second warehouse, doubling the size and making way for a “beginner” course to ease neophytes in. Because ‘blading here can get aggressive, novices will be grateful not only for the extra room, but for the chance to expand their rollerblading skills by rolling with more experienced thrashers.

Between early January and the end of March a farmers’ market fills the circle in front of city hall, where bells chime the time in the maligned city Merrick built. Coral Gables has many an asset. The market includes a farmer named Richard Lyons who speaks Latin, or at least offers up genus-species names instead of “yeller flower,” and other friendly experts in their fields happy to chat; informational displays; high-end edible goodies including exotic and organic veggies, heirloom tomatoes, imported oils and pasta, stone crabs for ten dollars per pound, real key limes, labneh spread (which mainly contains milk and salt but still tastes fine), jams and preserves of canistels, sapodilla, mango, tangerine. Winter’s best, but natives used to the heat can travel anytime to the allegedly anal community’s main drag, along which an entire day disappears into a beau monde of window shopping for Lotto-ticket dreamers. Bring meter quarters and park on a side street at the west end of the Mile (called Coral Way outside the Gables). Go over to the two corner fountains and walk east. Peer into three coiffure shops, five outlets offering fancy bric-a-brac, fourteen jewelry stores, four formal men’s and fourteen women’s clothiers, four potion shops. See the famous Miracle, a two-tiered cinema turned live theater. Check out wigs, health food, shoes, leather goods, baby stuff, art, and, yes, of course there’s a Starbucks. And all that’s a mere fraction of the mile. You might want to visit one of the ten restaurants before moving on to the next block.

This partly hidden bayfront park underwent extensive renovations but remains, fortunately, something of a mystery to the public, which tends to neglect the outstanding space. Not for long, though. As soon as all the condos scheduled for development along the neighboring Biscayne Boulevard corridor are completed, crowds will become the issue. Until then, this park remains the choice for a quiet day of tugging kite strings as your balsa and paper contraption glides over shimmering bay waters and the verdant expanse of the park itself. If the winds are light, you can try out the new tennis and basketball courts or soccer fields. Just stay out of the way of kiters.

Dad always beat the sun up, even on weekends when he didn’t have to hustle down to the factory, the office, that mysterious place where he spent the day while you went to school or day care or maybe stayed home with Mom. Even on weekends he was up early, to fix the car or take the dog to the vet or mow the lawn. Except on certain days, a Saturday usually. Then Dad would shake you awake an hour before dawn, eggs and home fries and (for him at least) coffee already prepared: “Eat up, boy, and let’s get going.” Sound a bit sexist or old-fashioned? If you have young children, rest assured this experience, regardless of specifics, will live in memory for at least 40 years. A simple cane pole with six-pound-test line, a bobber, and a tiny hook, the last baited with little pieces of balled-up bread, works just fine. About five miles past Krome, on the north side of the Tamiami Trail, is a sufficient pond, marked by cement picnic tables. But go a few more miles and, on the south, you’ll begin to notice pond after pond, some nearly dry but others flourishing with water plants, turtles, snakes, and plenty of fish. The ponds aren’t as lively as they were four decades ago, but that’s hardly the point here. Select one with plenty of water and as little foliage as possible. You’ll be alone because these are not the best fishing holes in the River of Grass. But the little ones should still be able to catch a bream or tilapia: the bobber twitching, then dropping fast, pull on the rod, drag in the fish. You’ll never forget these mornings. Nor should you. This is when a five-year-old begins to realize that a parent is the most important teacher in life. And you can even eat the bream.

Various types of pythons have grown to be the most popular of serpent pets. To obtain a feral python, take a flight to sub-Saharan Africa, hire a guide, trek through the jungle, and pray. Or drive across the Tamiami Trail through South Florida’s spectacular River of Grass. Yes, kids, there are pythons in the Everglades. Plenty of them. Mostly erstwhile pets that outgrew their keepers’ abilities to care for them, although God knows exactly how many pythons have taken a 747 from, say, Uganda, and found themselves lost in South Florida, or how many were blown free by Hurricane Andrew. (These magnificent rodent-eating reptiles can live for several decades; the oldest captive snake is said to have been a ball python that reached the age of 49.) The plump slitherers only come out at night, but by moonlight (or headlights) they’re tough to miss. As you cruise toward Everglades City, keep your eyes open, but the side roads in the western area of the swamp present the most opportunities for a nonindigenous reptilian encounter. If you aren’t lucky enough to eyeball one, you should enjoy the beauty of the Glades — and maybe see some monkeys or a few giraffes. Just kidding about the giraffes.

Those kids you see on those fancy boards sliding across the shallows at South Beach are not skimboarding. They’re just dabbling in the latest extreme sport, spending their cash on a fad that’s been dressed up with designs, paint, and lots of publicity — which is true of most extreme sports. For several decades young Miamians had gone skateboarding (via boards made by nailing skate wheels to a piece of two-by-four) down handicapped ramps at public schools; BMXing, as in riding a bike through dirty, muddy, highly unlevel terrain; and skimboarding. The real thing involved searching trash piles for a piece of plywood about three feet wide and four to six feet long. When it rained back then, Miami-Dade’s terrible drainage allowed water to build up in the swales, tiding over into the street and covering the sidewalk. Bring out the board, place it at the edge of the puddle, run full speed, jump with force onto the board, and leave the rest to physics. No tricks. No judging. No wetsuit with the brands of sponsors embossed. No TV. No money. Just fun, fun, fun. Alas, these days are long past. Parents want their kids to have it better, so they buy the little ones brand-name minisurfboards and take them to the beach, forgetting that the real joy wasn’t in looking cool or even in performing well. It was losing control and sliding all over without cracking your skull, then coming up soaked, muddied, bleeding, bruised, and smiling ear to scraped ear.

Walk into Let’s Scrap! on any given day and there they are: mesmerized kids measuring, cutting, gluing, painstakingly putting together pages of photographs, text, stickers, paper cutouts, ribbon, glitter. Filling volumes that document almost every stage or event in their still-short lives, the little ones are creating scrapbooks, a grand tradition they’ve now dubbed “scrapping.” It’s a task that requires hours of rapt attention and careful labor, hours that could occupy your children and give you that much-needed time-out. Albums, paper, scissors, glue, and all the decorative doodads can add up to real money, but scrapping is priceless: a creative, constructive hobby that keeps youngsters away from the potentially negative (as in brain-dulling) influences of TV, video games, or the Internet, and safely removed from possibly bone-breaking activities such as extreme sports. Good news for kids who aren’t very crafty: Monthly classes cover chalking, stamping, and picture tinting. But the best news for weary parents at the end of their rope: Mastering the finer points of scrapping takes a really long time.

If you always spend rush hour grumbling to yourself and fruitlessly punching the buttons on your radio, you may never have noticed that the spot of trees on the corner of South Dixie Highway and SW 80th Street opens up into a considerably large park named after Holsum Bakery founder and city leader Charles T. Fuchs. It contains the usual South Miami park amenities such as a picturesque lake (with a fountain maintained by a snorkeling park employee and a bounty of fish, including bass), fairly new tot lot, a gazebo fit for a family reunion, and, bizarrely enough, a pro beach volleyball area constructed far from any beach. This charming park also displays miniature versions of Miami-Dade’s natural environments. Three years ago extensive restoration resulted in urban versions of hardwood hammocks, wetlands, and maritime woodlands. Again, the park’s maintenance crew and the South Miami city commission chose wisely by planting native species during the restoration. Serenity in the middle of worldly clamor helps make Fuchs a perfect rest stop for weary travelers. Or a great gathering spot for weekend partiers.

Plunging into the cool waters of Biscayne Bay from the old Rickenbacker bridge (next to and below its replacement highway) is one trippy, exhilarating experience. When you just can’t take another sweat bead from the summer swelter, can’t tolerate the oozing burn meant for lobsters being cooked, then taking a dive is your solution. Liberating — you’re flying! — and mind-blowing — what if it’s only two feet deep? — the bridge free fall is the splash that refreshes. From the bridge you plummet about twelve feet into the sea, scaring hell out of any fish in the area. Time freezes, you feel gravity’s mighty pull, bubbles surround you. Exhale, sink as far as your lungs allow. The yawp of the howling teens watching from the bridge is muffled, creating a psychedelic underwater soundscape. Nearby you hear the splash of another bridge jumper. You surface for air. You grin, no smile. No, you beam like a little kid catching his first fly ball. The sun bakes your marinated skin. You swim to the shoals at the foot of the bridge (sneakers while jumping are recommended) and run around to the ledge. A few more times and magically you are carefree, fresh, and feeling like the crazy kid you’re behaving like.

Not quite a private pool, the Miami Shores Aquatic Center nevertheless is open only to residents of the village and their guests. It’s also really two pools at one location. One is a competition-size, eight-lane pool designed for laps. The other is an activity pool known as Shipwreck Cove that features several slides pouring out of a tower into a shallow pool. Definitely a good reason to cultivate friends in Miami Shores. Maybe wait a few days before asking about the pool to hide your true motivation.

At the very least, one could say that Sans Souci has Miami’s most loyal tennis players. For good reason: Along with easy parking, bright lighting, and fair fees, the camaraderie among players is so close-knit that some liken it to an extended family. The center has both hard and clay courts, a well-stocked pro shop, and it offers instruction, tournaments, and even field trips. Bring your own balls.

The clichéd images of children struggling to launch their kites on a windy beach are charmingly sweet. But screw that. This is wild and sexy Miami. Kite surfing, or kiteboarding, a combination of surfing and parasailing, is quickly becoming the hottest trend in extreme sports. Imagine a surfboard that can ride the wind on its parachute sails as well as it rides the waves. No, don’t imagine it, live it. Hobie Beach is the place to check out kite surfers turning more heads than the topless bathers of South Beach. In the way of those who indulge in potentially dangerous sports, kiteboarders are a close-knit but friendly group. Visit www.kiteflorida.com to check out the Florida Kite Surfing Association. They’ll help you with the essentials to get going; Hobie provides the wind and the water.

Negotiate the labyrinthine and oddly designed parking garage until you reach the roof. Roll up the windows and roll up a fat spliff or fill a cigar wrapper with hydro. Take the elevator down to the first floor and stroll east on the paved pathway to the well-hidden area behind this gleaming, can’t-miss-it skyscraper. Cop a sit on one of the many benches with a view of the crystalline waterway, the towers of downtown, and more. Spark and huff. If by some chance cops or security guards rush you, toss the roach into the water. If not, kick back and enjoy the visuals while nodding goofily at friendly passersby. The real fun comes in trying to drive out of that wild parking garage while you’re still buzzing.

Overtown is a slum and the last place you’d expect to see real estate whiz, revered art collector, and poster man for the rich and powerful Marty Margulies. But there he was one day, noticing how kids on NW Fourteenth Street were hanging and banging, preparing for a future in dope slinging or gangsta pimpin’. Some may have been plotting escape, but that’s a lofty dream down here. Margulies — a rare if not unique mix of developer-smarts and goodness-of-heart — whipped out $2.5 million and had built the terrific 18,000-square-foot complex known as the Overtown Youth Center. About 200 children have joined the new facility, which boasts spiffy classrooms, a fine auditorium, lockers, showers, computers, and the best basketball court in town. Alonzo Mourning, who appeared at the center two months and two days after a kidney transplant to speak to the children, has used his charities to fund day-to-day expenses. Only children who are members of the center’s after-school program can use the gorgeous court, but they play teams from around the county and anyone can attend. Also, the OYC is part of Gibson Park. Walk past the Chinese restaurant and the church, across the park’s grassy knoll, and, at the southern end, you’ll find excellent courts where anyone can play.

Since Wei Lun Huang won in 1998, the popularity of this “Best Ancient Chinese Secret” has spread far and wide (and word has probably even reached the Great Masters he studied with back in China). Master Huang’s patience with students is legendary and his skills in the internal martial arts (tai chi chuan, qigong, liu he ba fa, and ba gua, among others) are over the top. While his teaching style may seem unorthodox to some (especially to those who’ve dealt with hippy-dippy, New Age instructors), the results are so astounding that among Master Huang’s loyal students are several teachers as well. A point of enlightenment to inspire your beginning: Meditation is just as important to performance as are technical skills. You can find his casual Monday-night class behind the North Miami Beach Public Library. Because he travels for numerous out-of-town seminars, it’s imperative to keep tabs on Master Huang’s schedule either by phone or through the Website.

To hard-core bikers, pedaling through ungentrified parts of a city is more an exercise for the imagination than for the body. And the south side of Wynwood, with its plethora of factory buildings, graffiti-covered walls, and commercial signage, offers plenty to think about. Begin at North Miami Avenue and 36th Street, heading south. Note the string of art galleries along the west side, a sign that gentrification is around the corner. Soon you’ll pass a hatbox of a building, the lovely Dorissa of Miami factory on 27th Street. Turn west on 27th and begin winding through the neighborhood to NW Fifth Avenue. You’ll have biked by some of Miami’s oldest homes, and businesses with painted signs advertising shoes, handbags, and synthetic or human hair. Keep heading west to NW Sixth Avenue, where you’ll run into Interstate 95 humming with traffic. About two blocks south rest the ruins of the RC Cola bottling factory. Its perimeter wall has some of the best graffiti in Miami. Interspersed along NW Second Avenue are little cafeterias where you can stop for a beer. At NW 22nd Street turn east and face the mighty Continental Heidelberg Cement Factory. Though it may seem intimidating at night, the trip is worth the adventure. The glow of street lamps and security lights makes everything appear funkier, and any danger you sense is probably just your imagination.

We searched long and hard for the best clothing-optional beach and came up empty. Well, maybe not empty, but without a winner. South Beach provided the hunting grounds. First it was off at Third and Ocean, where a bounty of bronzed Brazilians, in full splendor, were walking around wearing nothing but floss, just as they do in Rio and the rest of their nation. Around Fifteenth through Eighteenth streets we saw an unusual number of other tourists flashing flesh. After extensive, grinding, drooling — er, grueling — sifting through a sea of suitless tanners, we had to face the realization that, thanks to the wonderfully amoral nature of Miami’s citizens, there are no longer any boundaries when it comes to drop-top bikinis. Block after block of beach features people wearing what they wore when they were born, although females exposing their breasts are the most common nudephiles. That’s why this year we give this award to all the sunbathers who made South Beach the biggest, coolest wardrobe malfunction this side of the Super Bowl.

Maybe Oleta River State Recreation Area (3400 NE 163rd St., North Miami) is the perpetual winner in this category, but since Amelia Earhart won “Best Place To Mountain Bike” back in 1999 and then slipped a few notches, drastic improvements have been made, thanks mostly to the volunteer efforts of a local cycling group known as In Da House, a mountain-bike crew that cares. These cyclists have weeded, repaired, cleaned, and made improvements to the park just as it seemed on the verge of being declared unsafe (and off-limits) for bikers. It’s still not a technically oriented biking location (there’s the occasional mud hole and such), but that makes it all the better for newcomers to the booming sport who have felt the patronizing glares of experienced mountain bikers at other trails. How do you become a winner? Work at it.

We’re not recommending a specific trail or route through this historic agricultural district, but we do recommend you explore it on foot sooner than later. The building boom exploding throughout the southern part of the county means it’s only a matter of time before the quiet back roads and fragrant groves and colorful nurseries and lushly landscaped ranch homes are but a memory. A good place from which to set out is the county’s 32-acre Fruit and Spice Park (24801 SW 187th Ave., 305-247-5727), a unique collection of some 500 types of fruits, nuts, spices, and herbs. Prepare for sun, heat, bugs, and road-hogging farm equipment.

Wifflegolf is the generic title for the various forms of golf using plastic or rubber balls and not using a golf course. There are many types of plastic balls to choose from, some thin and some thick, some with no holes and some with big holes. The best course in Miami is Country Walk, but any neighborhood heavy on houses and light on traffic works. To begin, design the course. First tee is your own driveway. First “hole” is the stop sign at the corner. Some players insist that only putters be used, while others prefer to allow wedges for more advanced play. You knock your first shot into the street, attempting to get close to the middle without going over it so your ball will roll on the road as far as possible before slowly spinning into the grass. (Miami streets are all tilted down from the middle for drainage purposes.) The second shot generally involves a short chip aimed to land a few feet in front of the sign. Then tap your harmless orb in. (As this isn’t a hole, you need only hit the sign.) Par three — unless a car runs over your ball, which hurts, or the wind has its way, or a dog joins the game. The next hole is that giant ficus around the corner (a sort of dogleg). Loft your tee shot over the roof of the blue house next door, then use spin to go around the hibiscus bush….

This bayside park at the eastern terminus of the Venetian Causeway was recently renamed to honor the Bee Gee brother who died in January 2003. (The brothers’ private recording studio is a block away. Maurice loved the park.) A free boat ramp and adequate parking make this a good place to launch and for a variety of paddle adventures. Head northwest into the expanse of Biscayne Bay and its spoil islands. A southern route will take you along the Beach’s mushrooming skyline toward Star Island, Government Cut, Fisher Island, and the open ocean. On either side of the park are canals that wind through residential neighborhoods and provide access to Indian Creek, which leads to La Gorce Island and beyond. Helpful hint: Bring along a map.

Considered one of the finest charities in the nation, the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation is a model of how a charity should work. Administrative costs are kept down while a significant percentage of funds raised through local affiliates remains in the communities where the money was donated. This race qualifies as the big-money benefit for a great cause. Approximately 1.5 million runners participate in the 5K run/walk, which is conducted in many locations. The local race takes place every October in Bayfront Park, winding its way through downtown and the Brickell area. (There’s also a race in West Palm Beach.) Runners are separated into divisions that include one specifically for survivors of breast cancer. You can also join a one-mile walk or enter your kids in the tot run. Ceremonies pay tribute to cancer victims and celebrate the success of survivors. A good way to take over downtown (known to shut down completely for the filming of terrible Hollywood movies) for a cause that matters.

Haulover took this award in 2002. Then, as today, it had competition, most of it from Key Biscayne. That island’s eight-mile-long eastern shore offers the full range of amenities, from crowds and condos to seclusion and wilderness. (It has also won this honor twice.) South Beach, once a strong contender, can no longer be given serious consideration. Its fatal flaw: congestion. You can spend half the day (and a small fortune) just parking your car. Parking, however, is never a problem at Haulover, where the lots cover many acres and the price is a reasonable $4.25. But Haulover’s greatest attraction is its spaciousness. South of the crowded clothing-optional area it is possible, even on holiday weekends, to claim a patch of sand without feeling like you’re crashing someone else’s party. Often the place seems deserted, a rare luxury these days.

Various types of pythons have grown to be the most popular of serpent pets. To obtain a feral python, take a flight to sub-Saharan Africa, hire a guide, trek through the jungle, and pray. Or drive across the Tamiami Trail through South Florida’s spectacular River of Grass. Yes, kids, there are pythons in the Everglades. Plenty of them. Mostly erstwhile pets that outgrew their keepers’ abilities to care for them, although God knows exactly how many pythons have taken a 747 from, say, Uganda, and found themselves lost in South Florida, or how many were blown free by Hurricane Andrew. (These magnificent rodent-eating reptiles can live for several decades; the oldest captive snake is said to have been a ball python that reached the age of 49.) The plump slitherers only come out at night, but by moonlight (or headlights) they’re tough to miss. As you cruise toward Everglades City, keep your eyes open, but the side roads in the western area of the swamp present the most opportunities for a nonindigenous reptilian encounter. If you aren’t lucky enough to eyeball one, you should enjoy the beauty of the Glades — and maybe see some monkeys or a few giraffes. Just kidding about the giraffes.

After a costly two-year construction delay, the ice rink at the Scott Rakow Youth Center is finally open. The rink, at 125 feet by 60 feet, replaces the cramped one, which will be turned into a gymnasium as renovations continue. Most of the facility’s, um, facilities are new. Because of the special times assigned to different age groups (particularly adults), be sure to call the center before visiting. Go ahead and sweat it up, then enter this comfortably cool oasis, where a bit of figure skating or hockey will keep the perspiration coming. Then go jump in the full-size swimming pool. It’s not new. But it sure is wet. And refreshing.

One of South Florida’s natural bragging rights is the ability to see both sunrise and sunset over vast expanses of water. We cry for the people of Iowa and Kansas every time the purple and orange and yellow paint the horizon with fire. Try it: Find the precise sunrise and sunset times for any day of the year (aa.usno.navy.mil/data/docs/RS_OneDay.html is one source). Begin your trip from the pier in South Pointe Park at the southern tip of Miami Beach, where you’ll see the sunrise over the Atlantic and perhaps meet some straggling, staggering clubbers on their way home. Then hop over to Little Havana, load up on café and pastelitos. Take the Tamiami Trail (U.S. 41, or, in the city, SW Eighth Street) west. Stop at the Shark Valley Visitors’ Center for a glimpse of the Everglades while strolling away the leg cramps from all that driving. The Miccosukee Indian Village is the next stop, the perfect place to grab some lunch and see how the natives survive in their Everglades. If you’re ahead of schedule as you pass Everglades City, visit Tin City in Old Naples for super shopping. Stay south while heading west in Old Naples and you’ll easily locate Naples’s beach and its venerable pier (25 Twelfth Avenue S.). Dolphins often gather beside the pier, picking up lost bait and the fish attracted by all those anglers. Go to the end, lean on the wooden rail, and enjoy the sunset over the Gulf of Mexico. Ponder the notion of coming back.

Arrrr, mateys. Ya can join th’ landlubbers over at Pennekamp or Biscayne National, sissy sinking it’s called, or ya can have a real ol’ time adventure down the way at San Pedro’s grave. Way the hell back in 1733, a husky blow doomed a Spanish treasure fleet to Davey Jones’s place, and another time a 270-ton ship of Dutch origin known as the San Pedro sank to her watery end a little more than a mile off Indian Key (in eighteen feet of sapphire-color seawater) at a place name o’ Hawk Channel. While some dag-blamed scalawags have stripped her of her treasures, there remains a mother lode of excitement at this spot near Islamorada. Crusted ballast stones mark out the shape of the Dutch galleon (the wood body, like the golden age of seafaring, is long gone), while replica cannons and the ship’s actual anchor add picturesque elements. At 271 years of age, the San Pedro might be Florida’s oldest “artificial reef,” but the fish and crabs judge not. Mooring buoys provide anchorage for schooners and kayaks alike, and if ya be without sails, hire a boat and captain at nearby Islamorada (“the purple island”). Have a mug or three of mead while ya wait.

You’ve gotta have balls to play the tenth hole at this course, formerly known as the Links at Key Biscayne, and still known as Key Biscayne Golf Course, Crandon Park Golf Course, and Crandon Golf Course (all the same place, we promise): With water on both sides and frequent gusts of wind, the most seasoned pro risks lobbing a couple of shots into the school of barracuda swimming the ocean shallows. To make the par five even trickier, the Crandon crew keeps the grass short and the green fast. Zip. Zing. Splash! There goes another one just like the other one. But for all the damage to your ego, the challenge can prove invigorating and the view breathtaking. With the Miami skyline to one side and what looks like the whole expanse of the Atlantic Ocean on the other, you won’t mind losing a Titleist or two. Okay, three.

While many would say the Venetian Pool at 2701 De Soto Blvd. in Coral Gables is the obvious winner, there’s another spring-fed swimming hole in Miami-Dade that deserves attention and attendance. The 35-acre lake that serves as the centerpiece of the Larry and Penny Thompson Park boasts white sandy beaches and three water slides that are open on weekends throughout summer. Not only do bathers have more space to play around in, but bored landlubbers can make use of paddleboats or fish from the pier. There’s much more to the park than just water activities. Camping, bridle trails, hiking paths, and playgrounds are spread over 270 acres. An almost secret treat in South Miami-Dade, and, as pools go, a natural source of wonder and fun.

Here’s one very enjoyable way to experience this 975-acre jewel of a county park, the lasting legacy of the Matheson family: On a weekend morning, load up the bikes and drive to Key Biscayne and the public parking lots on either side of Sundays on the Bay. (Parking here is free.) Unload the bikes and head to Crandon Boulevard. Just south of Sundays’ entrance is a street crossing. On the far side a bike path meanders for nearly two miles through the Bear Cut Preserve, an ambitious and successful reclamation project. You’ll move through palm thickets lush with ferns before reaching an intersection. Turn left to a recently opened observation deck overlooking Bear Cut and the vast Atlantic. Double back and continue past the intersection and through more wild greenery. Eventually the bikeway opens onto Crandon Park proper. Just beyond the Marjory Stoneman Douglas Biscayne Nature Center, turn onto the concrete promenade that separates beach from parkland. The ride along this path is a journey through multiethnic, polyglot Miami, as all variety of families will be gathered under shade trees and pavilions for birthday parties and barbecues, music and impromptu dancing. Keep to the left and the famous white sands of Crandon’s beaches appear as if on a postcard. At the promenade’s southern end you’ll come upon a cluster of charmingly restored rental cabanas. Turn right to enter the expansive children’s area, featuring a carousel, cushioned skating area, and several water attractions. The Gardens of Crandon Park (last year’s winner of this award) lies at the edge of the parking area. Consider this your turn-around point, but before returning, take plenty of time to explore the gardens, where many surprises await. After a picnic lunch on the garden’s grounds or at one of two concession stands, survey the park’s interior, where you’ll find more family areas, a full-size running track, athletic fields, and baseball diamonds. Yes, it’s a lot to take in, but it’s a big and beautiful park — Miami’s best.

Experienced anglers know to check them for live baits, but the public is generally unaware that in clumps of yellow-brown seaweed exist miniature aquariums waiting to be unveiled. Sargassum floats (thanks to spherical growths full of carbon dioxide) on the ocean currents. Early summer, when the water is calm and the sargassum gently drifts in, is the perfect time to show youngsters the marvelous bounty of the sea. Grab a clump of weed off the surface (sunken or dark brown weed is too old) and shake it over a bucket of ocean water. Like jewels from a pouch, out spills a variety of tiny creatures: juvenile versions of bigger fish that use the weed as a nursery. Crabs, shrimp, sea horses, nudibranch (called sea slugs), and other adult creatures also inhabit the weed. The most interesting resident is the sargassumfish, which looks exactly like a piece of weed until it flops away as you draw near. Sargassum’s many wonders should keep the children occupied until their skin turns red and they volunteer to call it a day.

Homestead is equal parts agricultural business headquarters, quaint tourist town, and Old South country village. Any guesses which category a shop called A-OK Fish ‘n’ Bait falls into? You can purchase most any kind of bait here: spinners and shiners, grubs and topwaters, even live shrimp. But the real treasure is the conversation. Homestead anglers get their goods here (not from the Orvis Website), and they’re known to tell a tale or two. Stick around, and you might learn something about fishing in South Florida. Some of what you learn might even be true.

This partly hidden bayfront park underwent extensive renovations but remains, fortunately, something of a mystery to the public, which tends to neglect the outstanding space. Not for long, though. As soon as all the condos scheduled for development along the neighboring Biscayne Boulevard corridor are completed, crowds will become the issue. Until then, this park remains the choice for a quiet day of tugging kite strings as your balsa and paper contraption glides over shimmering bay waters and the verdant expanse of the park itself. If the winds are light, you can try out the new tennis and basketball courts or soccer fields. Just stay out of the way of kiters.

Hurry, you won’t have this opportunity for long. At the eastern edge of this forlorn city park you can spread a blanket, open the picnic basket, pop a cork, and kick back to take in a spectacular view. Directly ahead lies Biscayne Bay, glittering brightly in the sunshine. As your gaze rises, Government Cut leads you straight to the sea along a perfectly symmetrical visual corridor. The effect is almost startling in its formal composition. Even when cruise ships are docked along the south side of the cut, the effect remains. In the early evening, those ships become spectacles themselves as they slowly rotate in the turning basin right in front of you. Why hurry? Because the abandoned park will in the not-too-distant future become a massive construction site. When the renovated Bicentennial Park is finally complete, the fantastic views will still be there, but today’s rustic appeal will be forever gone.

At the very least, one could say that Sans Souci has Miami’s most loyal tennis players. For good reason: Along with easy parking, bright lighting, and fair fees, the camaraderie among players is so close-knit that some liken it to an extended family. The center has both hard and clay courts, a well-stocked pro shop, and it offers instruction, tournaments, and even field trips. Bring your own balls.

Master Wei Lun Huang began training in tai chi when he was a child growing up in Guangzhou, China, under the instruction of Lu Zi Ling, himself a student of Yang Cheng Fu, and Ou Yong Ju, president of the Foshan Wushu Academy. Master Ou and Master Wang So Ting of Shanghai also taught Wei Lun Huang the ways of liu he ba fa. Got that?

In any case, Master Huang has been teaching martial arts, giving seminars all over the world, and demonstrating dizzying feats of physical strength since 1984, and has an army of acolytes around Miami-Dade County as proof of his prowess. With Huang, meditation is as important to performance as are technical skills. For a hint of the studio experience, Huang offers informal night class on Monday evenings behind the North Miami Beach Public Library.

Best Local Landmark
Fairchild Tropical Garden

Best Sanctuary From the Fast Track
Fishing at Government Cut

Best Month
February for the cool weather

Best Not-So-Cheap Thrill
Week-long cruise

Best Cheap Thrill
Fishing off the bridge

Best Reason to Live in Miami
The weather is great

Coconut Grove’s jewel of a public space, David T. Kennedy Park, accommodates people-accompanied dogs on leashes with verdant paths through palm groves and ad-hoc soccer sessions (dog chases ball, kids laugh). The northeast corner of the park provides the ultimate, though, with a lovely fenced area where dogs are welcome to ditch those leashes (and their owners) to engage in dog life with the pack of canines cavorting there. Vigilant humans keep the area free of refuse, and the antisocial behavior of the occasional lumbering wolf hybrid or illegal pit bull is dealt with politely but firmly through peer coercion. After the four-pawed running around like crazy and sniffing butts and breath comes exhausted panting. Soon you and your pooped pooch reunite, all wags, wet kisses, and muddy-paw pouncing upon your clean white T-shirt. Sit with your furry best friend on one of the park’s many benches, where the bay winds blow, and imagine what the mutt must be thinking: “That chihuahua acted so macho until he saw me” … “What a dork that white mongrel was” … “When do we eat?”

Plunging into the cool waters of Biscayne Bay from the old Rickenbacker bridge (next to and below its replacement highway) is one trippy, exhilarating experience. When you just can’t take another sweat bead from the summer swelter, can’t tolerate the oozing burn meant for lobsters being cooked, then taking a dive is your solution. Liberating — you’re flying! — and mind-blowing — what if it’s only two feet deep? — the bridge free fall is the splash that refreshes. From the bridge you plummet about twelve feet into the sea, scaring hell out of any fish in the area. Time freezes, you feel gravity’s mighty pull, bubbles surround you. Exhale, sink as far as your lungs allow. The yawp of the howling teens watching from the bridge is muffled, creating a psychedelic underwater soundscape. Nearby you hear the splash of another bridge jumper. You surface for air. You grin, no smile. No, you beam like a little kid catching his first fly ball. The sun bakes your marinated skin. You swim to the shoals at the foot of the bridge (sneakers while jumping are recommended) and run around to the ledge. A few more times and magically you are carefree, fresh, and feeling like the crazy kid you’re behaving like.

Public sex is both decadent and depraved, a violation of the social contract, and sometimes as grimy as eating from garbage cans. There’s really nothing sensual or romantic about outdoor lewdness. That said, bypass playing-it-safe spots like a park bench secluded by foliage, a dark corner in one of SoBe’s clubs, or a golf course at night. Public sex is less about a hidden turn-on than it is about candidly getting off. So if you have the nerve, or lack of scruples, and the desire to take your private affairs public, consider the alley between busy Collins and Washington avenues. Behind the famous dive Club Deuce, just next to a city Dumpster (we’re thinking in terms of sordid sights, not just smells), you and a lover, or lovers, can screw each other’s “brains” out in full frontal view of passing club kids, tourists, vagrants. Don’t be surprised if, after you’re done, a pile of dollar bills sits on the ground next to the pants around your ankles (a reminder that the city has relegalized street performances, though the limits gauging obscenity remain unclear). Warning: police patrols? Nah. If cops start rousting people for harmless fun, like safe sex in public, then they should be prepared to explain why their time isn’t being devoted to stopping murders, rapes, assaults, robberies, pot smoking. Uh, not pot smoking. Arson. Yeah, arson’s what we meant. Got that, occifer?

The local avian population has been spreading wings with excitement spawned by the people-watching at the Frog Pond lately. There’s been so much activity, they’ve been inviting their out-of-town cousins to the area for an aerial glance. Actually “Lucky Hammock,” as it’s known to birders, is a popular location thanks to the variety of birds found there, including several species that technically don’t belong in South Florida. It’s a Wildlife Management Area run by the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission, which means it’s property set aside specifically for conservation and recreation, which means living wildlife for your viewing pleasure. Best bet: About a half-mile before the Everglades National Park boundary, turn south onto Aerojet Road and park about a quarter-mile south of Palm Drive. Welcome to Lucky Hammock, and happy hunting.

Anyone can skate Ocean Drive, but it takes a real thrasher to backflip off a ten-foot ramp and land, grinding, on a rail. Monday is BMX night and Saturday draws crowds, but every other night Control Skate Park is in the business of letting skateboarders and rollerbladers jump quarter-pipes, half-pipes, or simply (ha!) slide down rails. The indoor park features a toyland of cool stuff made by 25-year-old owner Matt Cantor. An all-day session costs seven bucks and entitles customers to jump anything and everything in the place. During February, Control expanded by adding a second warehouse, doubling the size and making way for a “beginner” course to ease neophytes in. Because ‘blading here can get aggressive, novices will be grateful not only for the extra room, but for the chance to expand their rollerblading skills by rolling with more experienced thrashers.

Between early January and the end of March a farmers’ market fills the circle in front of city hall, where bells chime the time in the maligned city Merrick built. Coral Gables has many an asset. The market includes a farmer named Richard Lyons who speaks Latin, or at least offers up genus-species names instead of “yeller flower,” and other friendly experts in their fields happy to chat; informational displays; high-end edible goodies including exotic and organic veggies, heirloom tomatoes, imported oils and pasta, stone crabs for ten dollars per pound, real key limes, labneh spread (which mainly contains milk and salt but still tastes fine), jams and preserves of canistels, sapodilla, mango, tangerine. Winter’s best, but natives used to the heat can travel anytime to the allegedly anal community’s main drag, along which an entire day disappears into a beau monde of window shopping for Lotto-ticket dreamers. Bring meter quarters and park on a side street at the west end of the Mile (called Coral Way outside the Gables). Go over to the two corner fountains and walk east. Peer into three coiffure shops, five outlets offering fancy bric-a-brac, fourteen jewelry stores, four formal men’s and fourteen women’s clothiers, four potion shops. See the famous Miracle, a two-tiered cinema turned live theater. Check out wigs, health food, shoes, leather goods, baby stuff, art, and, yes, of course there’s a Starbucks. And all that’s a mere fraction of the mile. You might want to visit one of the ten restaurants before moving on to the next block.

More a jumping-off point to any number of fishing holes, Flamingo, at the south end of Everglades National Park, provides access to hundreds of catching spots. Rent a canoe and paddle through the webs of mangroves while looking to hook a snook, outsmart a mutton or mangrove snapper and, bam, dinner’s almost ready. Rent a “real” boat and glide into Florida Bay for spotted seatrout, redfish, or the fierce, inedible fighters called tarpon, which usually flash by near Flamingo’s marina. Drive or boat a few miles to the north and put out a line for bass or tilapia in the freshwater rivers and bays. The park provides a beautiful verdant and teal setting for all that angling. And the sunset over Florida Bay is no more tangible but endlessly more pleasurable than the lunker that got away.

Dad always beat the sun up, even on weekends when he didn’t have to hustle down to the factory, the office, that mysterious place where he spent the day while you went to school or day care or maybe stayed home with Mom. Even on weekends he was up early, to fix the car or take the dog to the vet or mow the lawn. Except on certain days, a Saturday usually. Then Dad would shake you awake an hour before dawn, eggs and home fries and (for him at least) coffee already prepared: “Eat up, boy, and let’s get going.” Sound a bit sexist or old-fashioned? If you have young children, rest assured this experience, regardless of specifics, will live in memory for at least 40 years. A simple cane pole with six-pound-test line, a bobber, and a tiny hook, the last baited with little pieces of balled-up bread, works just fine. About five miles past Krome, on the north side of the Tamiami Trail, is a sufficient pond, marked by cement picnic tables. But go a few more miles and, on the south, you’ll begin to notice pond after pond, some nearly dry but others flourishing with water plants, turtles, snakes, and plenty of fish. The ponds aren’t as lively as they were four decades ago, but that’s hardly the point here. Select one with plenty of water and as little foliage as possible. You’ll be alone because these are not the best fishing holes in the River of Grass. But the little ones should still be able to catch a bream or tilapia: the bobber twitching, then dropping fast, pull on the rod, drag in the fish. You’ll never forget these mornings. Nor should you. This is when a five-year-old begins to realize that a parent is the most important teacher in life. And you can even eat the bream.

For most people around here, a rural bike ride starts with a car trip. If you’re going to load up the bike and drive, you may as well drive far enough from the city to make it worthwhile. That’s where the Loop Road comes in. Almost any time of year, under almost any conditions, it’s a treat. Roughly four miles along the Tamiami Trail beyond Shark Valley (Everglades National Park 25 miles west of the turnpike), the Trail angles northeast. At the bend an unmarked road intersects and runs to the south. That’s the Loop Road, so designated because roughly 22 miles later it hooks up again with the Trail. Drive till the pavement ends at a National Park Service educational facility. Now you can unload the bike and head out. If it’s been raining, you’ll take a mud bath. Otherwise it’ll be a relatively smooth ride. Along the way (and you don’t have to do all 22 miles) you’ll encounter some glorious swamp scenes — deep pools, gators, fish, thick vegetation, and of course lots of cypress trees. You’ll also probably come across a fisherman or two, and catch a glimpse of a rugged hunting lodge here and there. Mainly, though, you’ll have the road to yourself. Bring plenty of water, insect repellent, and a pump or patch kit or both.

Those kids you see on those fancy boards sliding across the shallows at South Beach are not skimboarding. They’re just dabbling in the latest extreme sport, spending their cash on a fad that’s been dressed up with designs, paint, and lots of publicity — which is true of most extreme sports. For several decades young Miamians had gone skateboarding (via boards made by nailing skate wheels to a piece of two-by-four) down handicapped ramps at public schools; BMXing, as in riding a bike through dirty, muddy, highly unlevel terrain; and skimboarding. The real thing involved searching trash piles for a piece of plywood about three feet wide and four to six feet long. When it rained back then, Miami-Dade’s terrible drainage allowed water to build up in the swales, tiding over into the street and covering the sidewalk. Bring out the board, place it at the edge of the puddle, run full speed, jump with force onto the board, and leave the rest to physics. No tricks. No judging. No wetsuit with the brands of sponsors embossed. No TV. No money. Just fun, fun, fun. Alas, these days are long past. Parents want their kids to have it better, so they buy the little ones brand-name minisurfboards and take them to the beach, forgetting that the real joy wasn’t in looking cool or even in performing well. It was losing control and sliding all over without cracking your skull, then coming up soaked, muddied, bleeding, bruised, and smiling ear to scraped ear.

Walk into Let’s Scrap! on any given day and there they are: mesmerized kids measuring, cutting, gluing, painstakingly putting together pages of photographs, text, stickers, paper cutouts, ribbon, glitter. Filling volumes that document almost every stage or event in their still-short lives, the little ones are creating scrapbooks, a grand tradition they’ve now dubbed “scrapping.” It’s a task that requires hours of rapt attention and careful labor, hours that could occupy your children and give you that much-needed time-out. Albums, paper, scissors, glue, and all the decorative doodads can add up to real money, but scrapping is priceless: a creative, constructive hobby that keeps youngsters away from the potentially negative (as in brain-dulling) influences of TV, video games, or the Internet, and safely removed from possibly bone-breaking activities such as extreme sports. Good news for kids who aren’t very crafty: Monthly classes cover chalking, stamping, and picture tinting. But the best news for weary parents at the end of their rope: Mastering the finer points of scrapping takes a really long time.

If you always spend rush hour grumbling to yourself and fruitlessly punching the buttons on your radio, you may never have noticed that the spot of trees on the corner of South Dixie Highway and SW 80th Street opens up into a considerably large park named after Holsum Bakery founder and city leader Charles T. Fuchs. It contains the usual South Miami park amenities such as a picturesque lake (with a fountain maintained by a snorkeling park employee and a bounty of fish, including bass), fairly new tot lot, a gazebo fit for a family reunion, and, bizarrely enough, a pro beach volleyball area constructed far from any beach. This charming park also displays miniature versions of Miami-Dade’s natural environments. Three years ago extensive restoration resulted in urban versions of hardwood hammocks, wetlands, and maritime woodlands. Again, the park’s maintenance crew and the South Miami city commission chose wisely by planting native species during the restoration. Serenity in the middle of worldly clamor helps make Fuchs a perfect rest stop for weary travelers. Or a great gathering spot for weekend partiers.

Not quite a private pool, the Miami Shores Aquatic Center nevertheless is open only to residents of the village and their guests. It’s also really two pools at one location. One is a competition-size, eight-lane pool designed for laps. The other is an activity pool known as Shipwreck Cove that features several slides pouring out of a tower into a shallow pool. Definitely a good reason to cultivate friends in Miami Shores. Maybe wait a few days before asking about the pool to hide your true motivation.

The clichéd images of children struggling to launch their kites on a windy beach are charmingly sweet. But screw that. This is wild and sexy Miami. Kite surfing, or kiteboarding, a combination of surfing and parasailing, is quickly becoming the hottest trend in extreme sports. Imagine a surfboard that can ride the wind on its parachute sails as well as it rides the waves. No, don’t imagine it, live it. Hobie Beach is the place to check out kite surfers turning more heads than the topless bathers of South Beach. In the way of those who indulge in potentially dangerous sports, kiteboarders are a close-knit but friendly group. Visit www.kiteflorida.com to check out the Florida Kite Surfing Association. They’ll help you with the essentials to get going; Hobie provides the wind and the water.

Negotiate the labyrinthine and oddly designed parking garage until you reach the roof. Roll up the windows and roll up a fat spliff or fill a cigar wrapper with hydro. Take the elevator down to the first floor and stroll east on the paved pathway to the well-hidden area behind this gleaming, can’t-miss-it skyscraper. Cop a sit on one of the many benches with a view of the crystalline waterway, the towers of downtown, and more. Spark and huff. If by some chance cops or security guards rush you, toss the roach into the water. If not, kick back and enjoy the visuals while nodding goofily at friendly passersby. The real fun comes in trying to drive out of that wild parking garage while you’re still buzzing.