I did not think people actually lived in Florida until I moved there. I had only heard of young families visiting Disney World, college students going on spring break in Miami or the Keys, and retirees fleeing the harsh northern winter for a more mild and sunny one, but I had never known anyone to take permanent residence there. I’d concluded via the news and my friend’s anecdotes about their trips to Florida that the only thing the state had to offer was hurricanes, deadly wildlife, and golf - none of which I wanted anything to do with.
After already establishing my distaste for the state, I was informed that my mom, sister, and I would be packing up our things and moving 1000 miles south to Tampa. I thought this meant certain death, since surely an alligator or snake would eat me as soon as I stepped foot within Florida’s borders. I dreaded the move, but was pleasantly surprised when I was greeted with beautiful palm trees and an impressively well organized airport. My family had first moved into an apartment, so our first order of business was to find a more permanent home. While driving from one neighborhood to another, one of the first things I noticed was how different the organization of Tampa’s suburbs were compared to what I was used to. For starters, instead of neighborhoods bleeding together along rural and residential roads, nearly every neighborhood has very clear borders, many being enforced with a gate. Names like “Waterchase,” “Highland Park,” and “The Eagles” are proudly displayed before the entrances of these neighborhoods to unite its inhabitants under a shared identity. Within these borders are homes that were all built by one developer in the early 2000s, painted various shades of brown, blue, and green, creating a uniformity which is tightly regulated by the HomeOwners Association. Connecting these neighborhoods are wide four-lane roads lined with various shopping centers, which have the same uniformity found within the neighborhoods, creating a mundane but not unattractive landscape. Something that took me longer to notice was the cultural differences I was experiencing. I’m not sure whether it’s the high population of elderly people or a generally more relaxed lifestyle, but things like food service and cars, move slower. People are also far more conversational; you can't go to a grocery store without engaging in at least three conversations, the employees even ask if they can load your groceries into your car for you. This relaxed pace frequently frustrated my family at first, but I quickly grew accustomed to it.
Once I grew comfortable with my own small subset of Tampa, I began exploring downtown areas, like Ybor City and Bayshore. These areas far predate my own and therefore have a much richer cultural history. Ybor City was once home to lively Latin American communities and a thriving Cigar industry - it was named the cigar capital of the world in 1900. Unfortunately, this is not what I get to experience when I go downtown today. Tampa is unique because it is a city that is getting younger as it ages. In the past couple years, Tampa has become a city that is trendy for young people to start their careers in, therefore the city has been undergoing some renovations and expansions to draw in and accommodate a younger crowd. While these projects create new beautiful, trendy spaces that generate economic activity, they leave behind areas with cultural history to fall into disrepair. For example, Ybor City used to be a bustling cultural hub, but it is now riddled with abandoned buildings and a slew of dingy nightclubs and bars. It’s the area in the city that parents tell their children to avoid. Although some histories are left behind, Bayshore's is preserved and built upon. Bayshore's historical significance lies in the legendary pirate José Gaspar who, in the early years of European colonialism, ravaged the shores of Tampa Bay and is, strangely enough, celebrated for it annually with the Gasparilla Parade.
When I tell people that I’m from Florida, I’m sure they imagine many of the same things I did before becoming a resident, and I can confirm many of these stereotypes. There are 4 golf courses, 2 retirement homes, and hundreds of alligators in a 2 mile vicinity of my house. I can tell countless stories about Tampa's “crazy Florida man,” alligators in my friend’s pool, and preparing for hurricanes by throwing parties instead of boarding up windows and stockpiling goods. Every stereotype you hear about Florida is true if you look for it, however, if you look even deeper, there is a rich cultural history present, and maybe even a newer one budding.
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