Local real estate consultant in the Florida Keys. Marathon 33050 & Key Colony 33051. Genuinely loving where she lives and a desire to share it with others, Angela Palma will introduce you to the Keys community and real estate. Along side her husband, Alexander Palma, on this channel they will interview local shops and business that bring together the community and make the Keys a beautiful place to live or visit. AngelaPalma.com
My parents lived there for awhile. After irma they had enough. Can’t say im a fan of the conchs or ocean hippies, to say the least, but im the visitor and it is there home, but the dealings really put a sour taste in my mouth. Our saying was you had to beg “to get ripped off”. There
Marathon Airport is NOT a private airport. It’s a county airport. If you have lived here for seven years you should know that. Grassy Key is not a suburb of Marathon, it is part of the City of Marathon, as is the Cocoplum area, which is on Fat Deer Key. Locals love to live in Key Colony Beach? I think you mean Northern retirees who love lots of rules and busybodies. Don’t forget that the city has its own police force and with so little to do, they absolutely LOVE to write tickets, so drive slowly. Shelter Key was a pristine island before developers dredged, filled, and dug through it to make Key Colony Beach. People should also know that Marathon is not an island, it’s a city that comprised of thirteen islands. The islands in the west, Knights Key and Hog Key, and the easternmost island, Grassy Key, are all part of the city. The largest island is Vaca Key, (or Key Vaca, or Key Vaccas, depending on what source you consult). The comment below about 15th Street is hilarious but spot on. There are some very interesting neighborhoods in the city, but I doubt that the more la ti da Northern retirees are going to want to move there! 😆
Thank you for taking the time to add your insight. These are the comments that make our island chain great. Your insight allows us to be much more verse in the idiosyncrasies of Marathon and the surrounding keys. thank you
@@endofsociety Definitely. Not much affordable housing around, and what does affordable mean? Already the busines owners are starting to complain that they can't get people to work, but who is going to work if he can't afford to live?
@@gazoontight yeah I've talked to locals who aren't buisiness owners in key west. Most of them work 2-3 different places just to survive. The ones I talked to claim to love it though because they say they get to live in paradise. But, when do you get to actually enjoy it? They should build affordable housing for locals only.
This video is oriented toward the wealthy people. If you have enough money to buy a million dollar home and a fifty thousand dollar boat and have no need to work two jobs then you will live just like she says. If you’re not rich, it might be a little bit of a struggle. Marathon Airport is not private! Where did you get that misinformation? You should have told people that the City of Marathon extends from Hog Key to Grassy Key. Duck Key is not part of the city. The large island is Key Vaca, not “Marathon Key”. Mosquito Control is not a company, it is a government agency. You are paying taxes for that service. Shopping? What a laugh. Years ago there was the upscale boutique, KMart, but that’s gone. Private school? You’re talking to rich people, right? You should warn people not to accept real estate industry hype at face value but to be skeptical. I have seen so many people move to town and then move away in the first five years (if they can afford to move away).
Yeah, about your list. First, you obviously never heard the old joke about the person who was disappointed with life in Florida after moving there. It’s too long to repeat here but the gist is the person came on vacation and loved beach, the tropical breeze, the boating, the restaurants. After moving the person complained that he was surprised at how expensive everything is, long lines in the grocery store and post office, spending half the year preparing for a hurricane. The punchline is, before, he was a tourist, now he’s a resident. Affordable housing is nonexistent because there’s more money to be made by selling upscale homes to wealthy Northern retirees. Insurance rates are going up again but wages and salaries are not. Before the deluge of Northerners, many families in the city were related by blood or marriage, so, yeah, watch your mouth because word does get around. Marathon is a city that extends from Hog Key in the west to Grassy Key in the east. You try driving north or south and you’ll end up in the water. (Btw, Key Vaca is not called “Marathon Key”). Island time, like Keys disease, is real. A lot of people decided to move to the Florida Keys to live like Jimmy Buffet but without his money. Some of them spend significant amounts of time sleeping one off. Check the state data to find out how many registered sex offenders live in the county. Rich people who want their children to attend private school are going to have to drive (or have their people drive). The cities of Marathon and Key West have significant Spanish speaking populations. It’s helpful but not absolutely necessary to have a working knowledge of the language. I’ve been here over 20 years and I have seen so many people move away because they can no longer afford to live here. Richly Rich and his wealthy buddies are pushing them out. But lots of newcomers move away in their first five years when they find out that the tourist and real estate industries’ hype doesn’t always jibe with reality.
Not me! I am retired and I could live anywhere. I’ve got a good retirement I’m young and go to bed and get up what I want to stay up as late as I want drink as much as I want and go where I want.😂
The first red flag is that you would ever consider *setting foot* in Florida, let alone living there. The level of crazy there is off the chain. I wouldn't live in that state if you paid me.
The golden rule of traveling...........Every place seems so much more fun when vacationing......... I live in Flagstaff, AZ. Its the same thing here. People roll through thinking WOW the mountains in Arizona...ITS GREAT!! living here is so boring and transient.......Its stupid expensive and so many Californians have moved here it no longer feels like AZ. Its a great town for a few days to visit, but I am looking forward to moving on.........The winters are terrible and there is nothing to do, too damn cold......The locals keep to themselves and assume your another tourist which most people are......... The part about watch what you say in small towns made me smile because I learned that the hard way.......haha yup, be careful who knows what about your personal business......I miss Florida and will be coming back
Boat rental slips are difficult. Advise, is to Google Marinas and provide the specifics of your vessel, (size, draft, ext) because all marinas have different rules. Good Luck!!!
Great question. These are 8" with a 2-3" topping. The topping uniforms all the hollow core pieces. There is also rebar at the perimeter to lock it in place. All penetrations MUST be performed with a water core drill as you would in a regular poured slab. The penetrations need to be less than 6", which none of ours were bigger than 3"
You are wrong, this is really interesting video content. Especially in Florida, hate it when I see storm footage of roofs being completely being blown off. Better safe than sorry. Thanks for the content as always. Note: a little longer spent on the process would be cool.
Popcorn ceilings is strictly aesthetics. The spray foam is the actual insulation required both by code and by the need to keep your house at a certain temperature. You are able to use the batt insulation which is the broken down newspapers, cellulose Materials or the pink fiberglass.
There are Several homes which are made out of wood or are pre-manufactured which are mainly wood material. My understanding, is CBS home is not required. But in our hurricane prone area, it’s highly encouraged. You are able to build something called ICS foam filled concrete
Not sure of the exact question…. But the flood zone is an ae 7…. Our base floor is at 9.9’… so the code states you must build at base elevation or 13” above for max points on BPAS
Not sure of the exact question…. But the flood zone is an ae 7…. Our base floor is at 9.9’… so the code states you must build at base elevation or 13” above for max points on BPAS
Well back in the day, like when i was dealing with customers we built houses for, this was a fairly common problem. Regardless of the amount of time spent during the planning stage, after they saw it during the construction process, they didnt like it. Not a problem if they were willing to pay the cost for the change, but that wasent always the case. With todays computer programs for designing and drawing plans, there is or at least should be much less of this happening. A virtual walk thru the home can take place prior to any work on the home even begins. Problem is that not everyone has invested in the programs.
They call it love - so throw an orange at my head: Lisa and I had been together for around 4 years. We moved from Chicago to Miami together, and never realized how much stress a huge move like that can impose on a relationship. To say things became challenging among us would be a massive understatement - every little issue or disagreement became the cause for a full-blown argument, and soon it all became impossible. So technically, we lived in Country Walk - it was a part of Miami, though miles away from the city center, and virtually right on the edge of the Everglades. It was an Upper-Middle Class neighborhood, with perfect, squeaky clean roads - many of which just meandered off into the bush someplace, miles and miles of white Lexington, Kentucky, style horse fence (as nearly everyone there kept horses; many rode them to the store, etc), and large homes that people were very proud of. She and I found a nice townhome that was literally against a lemon, lime, orange, papaya, and guava plantation: We'd leave the windows open and our house would smell like Fruit Loops cereal! It was - amazing, wonderful, like a dream. But despite that we had one argument after another, usually about something trivial, all of which were the result of stress more than anything else. The move alone took a lot out of us as we did it solely by ourselves, and being so young in a totally new environment was taking longer to adjust to than either of us had anticipated. When we got to Miami I began looking for a job, since I didn't have one lined up beforehand. I had money from my career in music, but I wanted to make sure we'd never have to dip into that savings, figuring we'd buy a house with it sometime later on. One late December afternoon I came home from taking a police exam to find Lisa in bed, naked, passed out in the arms of a female co-worker of hers. Lying on the bed were empty vials of morphine and several hypodermic needles - they had sex, got high, and passed out. Or maybe they got high, had sex, and then passed out. Does this sequence of events really matter anyway? I let them sleep, and went for a walk in a park nearby, and then stopped at this little Cuban farm stand for a tamale and coco frio. When I came home Lisa was awake and her friend had gone home, but there was hardly any communication between us for the remainder of our time together. There was just quiet anger and resentment on my part, while she took the phone into the bathroom and locked the door to make some very private calls. A week later on Christmas Eve I had to go to another police exam, this time for the Miami-Dade Police Department. I got home, and as I drove through the parking lot to our apartment I saw that Lisa's car was missing, and noticed two police cruisers parked right around the corner from our place. As I walked toward the building I could see that the front door to our place was wide open, and when I got closer I saw two police officers standing inside. I went in and saw that the entire apartment was empty, save for a bare Christmas tree (which was a real tree that we got at a nursery on Thanksgiving). One of the officers spoke up and said, "we heard you went to take the police exam, so we figured we'd wait for you to get back as a professional courtesy". I replied, "well, thank you, but, um, where's all my stuff"? I was told that Lisa decided to move out, and she took everything with her (everything except for that tree, anyways). I said, "but she took my things too - you guys let her take it all"? They said she had receipts for everything, and that on our credit cards and checking account her name was listed first - I tried explaining that was only because banks listed users alphabetically, and because her last name began with 'A' and mine with 'C' her name was at the top. Damn, Lisa always maintained such exacting records of everything we purchased - was her acquisition of them her plan all along? Well, it was already too late by this time anyway, so I just thanked the officers, and sat down in an empty apartment trying to figure out what to do.My neighbor, who also worked for the police, came by and brought me a portable TV and said he had gotten all her information and would give her a call to see if he could negotiate having her return my belongings. I mean, she even took all my clothes and the soap from the bathroom! A few days later she stopped by and dropped off the majority of my stuff. We then got into a bad argument, which ended when she threw a huge glass vase at my head (that broke just above me against the wall) and then stormed out. Later that week I was shopping at the local Winn Dixie in the produce section, picking out some veggies when all of a sudden I felt something relatively soft hit me in the back of my head. Even though it didn't hurt, I was still a bit disoriented - and then something else hit me in the back of my head! I turned around to see Lisa standing in front of the citrus fruit section with an orange in her hand, which she immediately threw at me. So, since all is fair in love and war, I picked up a potato and threw it back at her, but I missed my intended target. She then threw a grapefruit back at me, but I ducked and it merely landed on the floor and rolled under the shelves. I then sent a barrage of potatoes her way - one after another which sent any customers nearby scurrying! You're gonna lob a grapefruit at me then I'm coming back with nuclear potatoes - and some boniato too I think! This madness continued until someone got the store manager, who came over and told us -in no uncertain terms, as they say- to leave the store. She walked out first, and I followed around 50' behind her. When we got into the lot she started swearing to herself but loud enough for me to hear it; I just walked to my car shaking my head at the insanity of it all. Though I would shop at that store a few more times, I didn't run into Lisa again there, but I knew it was time to move, to leave Miami. I'd always wanted to live in the Florida Keys (Lisa and I used to go to Marathon every weekend), and now was the perfect time to make that dream happen. Funny how life evolves that way, isn't it? One day you're being pelted with citrus fruit by your ex, and the next you're lying on one of the best beaches in the world surrounded by a group of incredibly new friends...
Adios Miami, y hola la isla bonita! Country Walk is basically an Upper-Middle Class suburb of Miami, located on the edge of the Redlands (so named because the soil there is a rich red color) which itself is basically located within the Everglades themselves. White horse fencing surrounds large, open grass fields; thus, it was common to see people riding their horses down the street, adding to the feel of the area being more akin to Lexington, Kentucky than South Florida. There were also small Cuban farmstands located on sprawling plantations that sold things like fresh eggs, young coconut, various tropical fruits, Cuban sandwiches, tamales, and guarapo (sugar cane juice, which is surprisingly not very sweet, containing only about 1/3 of the amount of sugar as a soda-pop of the same size, but instead has a taste reminiscent of the smell of a freshly-mowed lawn; a cold glass of guarapo is especially refreshing in the heat). Our apartment faced a lemon, lime, orange, and mango grove, literally only 50' out our front door. As a result, our place smelled like fresh Froot Loops cereal! I used to sneak into the grove at sunset to load up my shopping bags with fresh fruit; I justified this by rationalizing that those trees were heavy with fruit, so the farmer wouldn't miss a few dozen pieces. After my relationship with Lisa ended, badly, I'd made the decision to leave Miami and pursue my dream of living in the Florida Keys. I remember once when I was around 13 years old seeing a program on TV about the archipelago, and telling my mother how beautiful I thought it was and how I'd like to live there some day. She said, "Key West is for rich people, like doctors and lawyers, and you're never going to be one and you'll never be rich, so get that thought out of your mind". Well, I never did forget those islands... It was a bright, sunny and oppressively hot and humid January 2nd - moving day. I got up late -around 9am- and by the time I was out of the shower and ready it was nearly 10am. I packed up as much a would fit into my car and brought it to a storage unit that I'd gotten the week before. It took about 1/2 hour to drive there, another 1/2 hour to unload and secure everything, and another 1/2 hour to get back home. I had to make a second trip because not everything would fit in my car the first time, so this took another 1 1/2 hours. I then packed what was left and waved goodbye to my neighbor, who said to me, "I'd tell you to keep touch, but everyone I know who has moved to the Keys just disappears after they get there - so, good luck and have a great trip". I set off on the road with every intention to move to Key West, but I actually had no place to live when I got there: You couldn't find any Florida Keys newspapers in Miami, and it was in the classified ads of those where landlords advertised their apartments and rental houses. It took me around 2 hours to make it to Key Largo; the distances in the keys are much longer than they appear to be, especially since the speed limit on US1 in the islands averages 45mph, and God help you if you speed, because you will certainly wind up with a citation. In Key Largo I stopped at the local library to look at their copies of the Keynoter and Key West Citizen newspapers so I could copy down the contact information for a few apartments that seemed like they'd be nice enough. I tried to use the payphone there to contact a few of those people, but ever call was considered long-distance and required way more change than I had on me, so I just went back to my trip and resolved to call a few places once I got closer to Marathon. Now at the time Marathon wasn't even a city - it was just a name for the place residing on Key Vaca (cow island - so named for all the manatees that can be found there). It's just a quiet and dusty little drinking village with a fishing problem, or maybe it's a fishing village with a drinking problem; it's a small, quirky 'town' that had more bars than churches, and which I would later come to find out was called 'The Rock' (as it sits on a fossilized coral reef) or 'The Ark' as you could find two of everything there! It seems like nearly every building in Marathon is painted white, including their roofs, and white fossil coral pearock blankets all the parking lots. It was late in the afternoon when I arrived in Marathon, and the sun was already well on its way to dropping into the sea, so I figured I'd better just settle there instead of trying to make it all the way (another 65 miles) to Key West since I really didn't want to sleep in my car. I met with one landlord who had a gorgeous ocean-side building with new and clean units, and there was even a salt water swimming pool there too. So, the landlord looked me up and down scrutinizing me with a discerning eye, and said, "I don't recognize you at all, so you must not be from around here". I told him indeed I was not from there, but had moved from Chicago to Miami; he replied, "I don't know who you are or what you're about, you could be a drug dealer, or someone who's going to bring a lot of drama here, so I'm going to need first, last, and two months security deposit in order for you to move in". That seemed a bit much, so I politely declined, and stopped at the nearest gas station and made a call to the next landlord. His name was Jim, and he told me to meet him at Dion's, a gas station in the south end of town at 'Mile Marker 48.5". I thought, "Mile Marker? What about an actual address"? Well, I would come to learn that addresses in some parts of the island were arbitrary - and people just made up their own (a few years later the Post Office sent out letters to everyone asking for people to come together to develop their own house numbering system, which should be clear and easily understandable and ideally numbers should be in consecutive order, and that numbers should not be repeated or be like 'O', 'OOOOOO', etc) so there was no rhyme or reason to navigating the island other than Mile Markers. When I got to the south end of town I saw a run-down gas station with a plywood board that was painted black which had G-A-S- spelled out in white letters on it, leaning against one of the pumps. I parked and walked in but no one was at the front; at the far end of the store there was a counter behind which a young woman was busy frying chicken that was apparently for sale - she didn't even look at me, though I suspected she knew I was there as she had to hear me come in. The chicken people had all the prices written down on a piece of paper taped to the wall. Admittedly, it smelled delicious! (As it turns out, nearly every gas station in the middle and lower Keys serves their own recipe fried chicken, and it's all amazing - if you find yourself down there be sure to stop and pick up some). I grabbed a cold Coke and went to check out. I was waiting a few minutes when a man walks out from the stockroom doors: He's tall, maybe 6'5", White, with long curly black hair - and a patch over his right eye, a peg in place of his right lower leg, and a stainless steel hook that replaced his right hand. I stood there shocked thinking to myself, "oh my gosh, pirates are real - and no one will ever believe this"! He sat down by the register and I asked him, "is this Dion's Gas Station"? He kind of chuckled and said, "where else would it be"? I didn't quite know how to answer that and stood there in silence. He then said, "you're not from around here, are ya"? I pushed my Coke over to him to ring it up, and paid with dollar bills. He took my change and just before he was about to hand it to me he put it all on the counter, and pushed it over to me with the back of his shiny hook. I grabbed the change, and he intentionally moved his hook forward to brush against my hand, which caused me to jump back- and he laughed! I could feel my heart beating so fast... I walked back out into the parking lot to find what was to be my new landlord out there waiting for me.
When I first moved down to Marathon, I didn't know anyone at all. But immediately people there made me feel at home, like a part of their family. I decided to go to the 4th of July celebration at Sombrero Beach, and when I got there it was already quite busy, and I had a hard time finding parking. But before I knew it, this family that had seen me around town and heard that I was new there came up to my car and said, "come on by us - just park your car in front of our house, on our lawn"! So I did, and they brought out a chair for me, and some cold beer and a burger with potato salad, etc! It was the first time in my life I ever felt at home someplace...
If they only had KFC Extra-Crispy on the Titanic... I accepted a trip working as a 2nd Mate aboard a 50' Bertram yacht that required us to sail it from West Palm Beach down to Key West, which was to take around 3 days. The owner of the boat was a multi-millionaire; the boat, named something like, 'Blue Sea', was gorgeous - immaculately clean, and in every aspect a fine luxury vessel. On the boat were Captain Frank, Captain Jim, and their wives, Trey who was the 1st Mate, and myself. I had bought Kentucky Fried Chicken for all of us for lunch that first day - it was a superstition of mine since every time I bought KFC onto a boat we had a great trip. The boat was outfitted with enough food for the remainder of the trip, and I was going to be assuming the role of Ship's Cook starting the following day. Trey was the Relief Captain, and he would take the helm once we were out to sea. Captains Frank and Jim would be taking the night watch... My job was to essentially being his back-up, and also required that I conduct navigation, be the lookout on 1st Watch, and help monitor all the boat's gauges. Trey and I decided to pilot the boat from the Fly Bridge, which was around 12' up from the main deck. Once we got out and going Trey and I starting eating lunch and chit-chatting small talk as the seas were only around 2'-3', which the boat just cut through effortlessly and smoothly. We were steaming approximately 6 miles E/SE of Miami Beach when things took a very fast turn for the worse. I saw the temperature for the starboard engine starting to rise - at first slowly, then very quickly. I looked over the side to check the exhaust and saw that steam was billowing out of it. Then a warning siren went off while a computerized voice repeated over and over, 'explosion imminent, explosion imminent, explosion imminent'. Trey looked at me and asked, "what the heck is going on"? I had no idea, but Trey shut off the starboard engine quickly in the hope that somehow the situation would resolve itself without us blowing up. A few minutes later the exact same thing happened to the port engine, and Trey shut that one down as well, and yelling down to captain Frank who was in the parlor. Captain Jim had just been relaxing as well, but heard the engines come to a grinding halt, and was calling up to us to find out what was going on. So now without any engines at all we were adrift... But there was not even time to catch my breath when I saw one bilge pump gauge max out, followed seconds later by the bilge warning light, meaning that the boat was taking on more water than it could discharge. Immediately the 2nd bilge warning light came on, and that pump became maxed out too. Trey and I looked at one another because we both knew we were in serious danger of sinking; Trey said to me, "you'd better go and get Captain Frank, and let him know what's going on". I quickly climbed down to the main deck, and let him and captain Jim know what was happening. They instructed me to get life jackets on myself and Trey, as well as their wives as they went to check out the engines. I grabbed the flare guns, dye packets, strobe lights, and the rest of the rescue equipment (thankfully we checked all of that before leaving the dock, and it was all relatively new and in good working order). Captain Frank opened the hatch to the engine compartment, while captain Jim looked down into it. I managed to glance into the engine room to see a massive amount of water pouring in from each exhaust like a waterfall... They said I needed to contact the Coast Guard and tell them that we were in imminent danger of sinking, and that at the very least we'd need 2 portable bilge pumps from them. I got everyone in their life jackets and made sure they stayed on the deck near the transom in case we had to abandon ship. I then went back up to the fly bridge, took a deep breath to calm myself down, and grabbed the radio to call the Coast Guard, "Mayday mayday mayday, this is the 50' Bertram yacht 'Sunset' located 6 miles south and 5 miles east of Miami Beach, taking on water and in danger of sinking; 6 souls aboard, and 2 dogs - requesting immediate assistance, and 2 bilge pumps". I repeated the message. The Coast Guard replied that they were sending a C-130 airplane, a helicopter, and a Cutter to assist. At this point there was so much water in the bilge that the boat deck was nearly at the waterline, and she was listing heavily 30-degrees, and at times would shake and lurch so violently to 45-degrees that Trey and I had to hang on with all our strength to avoid being thrown overboard. I looked down at the water to see it was filled with jellyfish, and all I could think of was being in the water and getting stung relentlessly by them! It was only around 15 minutes later when I saw the C-130 circling overhead, but that 15 minutes had felt like an eternity. Then I saw the helicopter, which began to hover nearby. I maintained radio contact with the Coast Guard helicopter, and they lowered a gas-powered bilge pump and a repair kit to us. The Cutter then approached us in case we needed to jump ship. I went to the engine room to check on Captain Frank: He was chest-deep in water connecting the portable bilge pump hoses while Trey got it started. As soon as the water started being pumped out the boat began to right itself, and a short while later I heard Captain Frank say he managed to patch the holes and stop the leaks. At that the C-130 and and helicopter departed, while the Cutter kept us company until the tow boat got there. It took us 6 very. very long hours to get towed back to the marina, where we were met by a mechanic. So what happened to cause the boat to nearly sink? Well, the owner never bothered to have the barnacles scraped off the sea-water coolant intakes. Because of this, the engine overheated (and seized), with some metal parts getting so hot that they melted off. When these parts melted, they fell onto the large rubber exhaust tubes - which were supposed to be covered with aluminum mesh (but again, the owner didn't bother to do this when they were last repaired), but since they weren't, the metal melted right through them, which opened up a direct line to the water. Both engines were blown, and the damage to engine accessories was also severe. It would have cost the owner around $100 to have the barnacles scraped, but now to repair both engines and other damage the price tag would be more than $100K. And that's how an irresponsible and cheap boat owner nearly sent a $10M yacht and 8 souls (6 human, 2 canine) down to Davy Jones' Locker - thankfully, I had brought the lucky chicken (something I'd be known for from that time on)! So, if you're heading out on a fishing trip - bring the fried chicken, and make sure you have enough for your captain and mate.
My husband and I spent our honeymoon in Marathon in May of 2002 and have been back 18 or 19 times since. Our last visit was May of 2022. We love the Keys! We feel so much healthier when we are there! I wish that I would have discovered it when I was much younger. I would have saved every dime and worked out a way to live there, at least during the winter.
