Bahama Village When the Roosters Own the Street

Bahama Village When the Roosters Own the Street

Bahama Village sits west of Duval Street, and the difference between the two is the difference between a performance and a conversation. Duval is Key West's stage — loud, bright, reliably entertaining. Bahama Village is the neighborhood that was here before the stage was built, and it still operates on its own schedule, which is to say: slowly, and with roosters.

The roosters are everywhere — crossing Petronia Street with the entitled strut of animals who know they are protected by city ordinance, crowing at hours that have nothing to do with dawn, and perching on fences with the photogenic confidence of creatures who have appeared on more postcards than they can count. You will either find them charming or maddening, and this is a reliable personality test.

Blue Heaven on Thomas Street is the neighborhood's culinary anchor — an open-air restaurant in a former bordello where Hemingway refereed boxing matches, the chickens wander between the tables, and the banana bread French toast arrives with a dusting of powdered sugar that catches the morning light like snow in a place that has never seen any. The Key lime pie is the one other Key lime pies wish they were.

Walk down Fort Street past the clapboard cottages painted in colors that would be illegal on the mainland — coral, seafoam, egg yolk, lavender — and the bougainvillea spilling over every fence like it's trying to escape. The Studios of Key West on Eaton Street hosts rotating exhibits from local artists, and the gallery is airy and serious in a town that doesn't always take itself seriously.

Insider tip: Bahama Village is best in the morning, before the Duval Street crowd wakes up and wanders west looking for brunch. By noon it's shared territory. Before nine, it belongs to the residents, the roosters, and you.