The City Under Red Tiles, or Sunset Strolls Through Boca Raton.

 

The City Under Red Tiles,

or 

Sunset Strolls Through Boca Raton.

Addison Mizner’s ideal city actually turned out quite well. In many ways, it is exactly as he saw it, exactly as he planned. 

"Mizner again?!" you might exclaim. 

"We’re not reading this!!" 

And you don’t have to. 

Hooray! I practically don't have to write a story today either! I’m so exhausted from reading and the sheer abundance of information for the previous tale that I’m celebrating: today, the story isn't the center of attention—the pictures are! I’ll enjoy going through the photos myself and showing them to you. And I’ll fulfill the promise I made in the last story: I’ll show you the real Boca Raton, where and how people live. (Normal people, not celebrities. The middle class, as they say.) The photos you are already looking at were taken during two walks near my friend's house. We walked at sunset, admiring the sky, the clouds, and the reflection of the houses in the man-made ponds.So, let’s just take in the views and soothe our souls. You won't have to think about much of anything.

Boca Raton is a very well-maintained town on the southeast coast of Florida. Looking at the map now: it’s located between Fort Lauderdale, where we flew in and departed for our cruise, and West Palm Beach, where we went to the museum. We stayed with my friend for three days; you can't learn much about a city in such a short time.  

What stood out most: the abundance of greenery. (Understandably, we flew from typically dry California to the tropics of Florida.) And the greenery is lush, a deep dark green. Palms grow everywhere, there are several species, and here they are a full-fledged part of the architecture.

Stately Royal Palms, resembling ancient columns, line the grand avenues, and near the houses, you often find Christmas Palms, which for our arrival were decorated not with clusters of bright red berries, but with Christmas lights.

It seems that even the trees here obey Mizner’s general plan: everything is so neat, trimmed, and "combed" that you feel like you're inside a flawless movie set.

Straight roads run through the whole city—excellent roads, always looking like new despite the constant downpours. But my friend complained that drivers in Florida are, how shall I put it mildly, less polite (I’m trying to avoid the term "a bit pushier") than in California (they’ll zip through an intersection on a red light without a second thought, change lanes at speed, or cut you off). I didn't notice it, but she knows better; she drives there and knows the difference.

The city is built in a unified style. I found out the reason for this after I returned home, as you might imagine, by reading the history of the development here, which I wrote about in the last story: Boca Raton is the brainchild of Addison Mizner. It’s interesting how his corporation went bankrupt and his life ended in poverty, yet the idea of creating an "ideal city" (as much as a real city can be ideal) came to fruition. Remember, I quoted his words: "My plan is to create a city that is direct and simple... To exclude all that is ugly, to eliminate the unnecessary, and to give Florida and the whole country a resort city as perfect as study and ideals can make it."

The city is famous for its Mediterranean-style architecture. That same Mediterranean Revival, established back in the 1920s: tiled roofs, light walls in very pleasant shades of gray, beige, or peach. All the houses look very similar to one another. Everything is very clean. It seemed to me that this uniformity adds to the sense of organization and tidiness.

My friend and her husband live in a large HOA community. It has all the classic Florida amenities: a beautiful clubhouse available for private events, tennis courts where we saw some kids playing as we walked by, and two large pools—one of them heated. We didn't actually go for a swim; we just admired them as we passed.

What is unusual for Californians are the screened-in porches, the so-called Florida Rooms.

(I cropped a bit from a photo and enlarged it so you can see better. This house has a huge porch enclosed with a metal screen!)

Without them, it’s impossible to be outside in the summer—the mosquitoes will eat you alive. By the way, I learned that these "rooms" appeared before the era of air conditioning as sleeping porches. Only behind a screen could people sleep peacefully in the tropical heat without fear of mosquitoes and other Florida wildlife.

(These porches here are substantial, under roofs, though more modest in size.)

No, without such rooms, I thought, you couldn't sit outside in the evening. Otherwise, a raccoon might suddenly disturb you at night (though they can show up in California too), or an opossum might drop by to see if you left any cat food outside. But that’s fine, minor things—what if an alligator wanders out for a stroll from the nearest lake?!

There it is, the lake, just two steps away... We saw two big gators, not in a zoo, but live... that was enough for me. (Not here, not here—we saw them in a city park, you've already read that!) 

They say these porches are often called "lanais" (in the Hawaiian fashion) or simply "bird cages" if the screen also covers a swimming pool. 

We visited during the winter and walked not very late; we didn't meet any opossums or raccoons, the mosquitoes didn't bother us much during our walks, and fortunately, it was alligator-free as well.

Throughout the community, besides the beautifully paved streets, there are pedestrian paths on both sides lined with Banyan trees.

Until I came here, I had never even heard of them. (Or maybe I had, but didn't pay attention). But the Banyan is a famous tree, very popular in Boca Raton and sacred in India. There are many legends associated with this tree in Asia.

It looks like a whole grove, but in reality, it can be just one tree! Its aerial roots descend and turn into new trunks. A true tree-forest, a tree-thicket. Our first sunset in Boca Raton was truly stunning.

The sun setting over the horizon here seems as if it, too, was planned by architects—part of the overall picture.

But the second sunset was even more beautiful; judge for yourselves.

I ran out alone: I had to catch the reflections of the clouds in the lake water.

I’m running along the paths, taking photos—there are so many lakes.

At first (remember, I'm from "dry California"!), the thought flashed through my mind: "Fire ponds!"  Then a second thought followed: "In a marshy area with this much rain, so many 'fire' ponds?!! It can't be!" Of course, it’s drainage.

I found an article about the drainage system in Florida (the article is huge, I confess, I just don't feel like reading the whole thing today). I'll summarize the part about the ponds in residential complexes. 

Florida, compared to California, is a very flat state. The land level is low relative to the ocean, and there are frequent tropical downpours. When they build a residential complex, they level the ground, lay asphalt, and build houses. The water has nowhere to go. So engineers design and dig ponds so that during downpours or hurricanes, the water flows there instead of flooding houses and roads. These are controlled reservoirs. 

Besides the water falling from the sky, there is also a high groundwater level. To build a house, the foundation needs to be raised higher. Builders dig a pond on the site of the future complex, and the excavated earth (sand and limestone) is used to create mounds for the foundations of the houses.

The result is "free" soil for construction and a beautiful lake in the center.

I found another reason I hadn't thought of. These ponds act as natural filters. Water flowing off the roads (with residues of gasoline, lawn fertilizers, etc.) goes into the pond. There, the sediment settles to the bottom, and plants and microorganisms clean the water before it goes deeper into the underground aquifers or the ocean.

While walking, I was captivated by the beauty of the sunsets and their reflections in the pond water. I thought how wonderful it would be to have a house on the shore of such a pond, to see the reflection of your house in the mirror of the water while walking, to see the sunrise or sunset every day from your windows instead of looking at a neighbor's fence.

(Though I look at the fence outside my window—and it’s fine!)  

But now, that same thought has crept back: "Every lake is a home for wildlife. Alligators!" You definitely shouldn't swim here. 

(I checked: it’s forbidden! And not just because of alligators, but also because of venomous snakes and the bacterium Naegleria fowleri: a "brain-eating" amoeba that lives in warm fresh water. If water gets into the nose, the consequences are almost always lethal. 

Oh! And everything looks so idyllic in the photos! Sorry if I changed your mood. It might comfort you if I say that although it's almost always fatal, cases of infection are extremely rare.) 

Anyway, we won't be swimming in the lakes, especially since the community has a pool. But you have to agree, it’s pleasant to sit on your "Florida porch" and look at the water reflecting the clouds...

I got carried away... It’s time to end the story. What did I forget, what did I miss? 

Boca Raton is famous for its public schools. We visited during the holidays, but during the school year, children ride to school on scooters and bicycles. Independently. (Well, some are dropped off by parents.) I mention this because the city is also famous for its safety.

Safety and schools are not the only reasons for the city's popularity. There is also a purely pragmatic aspect—the absence of state income tax. (Residents only pay federal tax. In California, in addition to federal tax, there is also a state tax of 9.3%. So I pay the state about 10% of my income, while Florida residents are exempt from this.)

But if everything is clear with schools, safety, and taxes—those are pluses—are there any minuses here?

It seems Addison really did succeed in creating those "backdrops for happiness" that he dreamed of. Let’s not spoil the impression, only mention the Homeowners Association—HOA—which might ask you to weed the flowers in the grass in front of your house (which actually happened to our friends), paint the fence a different color, or trim tree branches or palm fronds.

Following Addison Mizner’s style is the law in Boca Raton. And HOAs in Florida are known for their strictness and pickiness. If you don't do it on time, you'll get a fine.

You’ll say there are hurricanes here. I agree. And in Texas, where my son lives, there are tornadoes. And in California, where I live, there are earthquakes and fires. I remember how a neighbor who survived the powerful 6.7 magnitude Northridge earthquake of 1994 (her husband pulled the children out to the parking lot, but she was trapped: the door jammed, her husband had to kick it in) recalled that all her dishes fell out of the cabinets and shattered, but she told me: "It’s okay, everyone is alive! We’ll buy new cups and plates." 

If we stay alive, we’ll rebuild what was destroyed, wash what was dirtied, dry what was soaked—and "we will live on," a favorite phrase of one of my friends.

(Oh, the previous view was great, I'll repeat it in a different format.)

What does the city live for and how? It seemed to me that it's the most important thing: family. Everything here revolves around the family. Children, school, sports for the youth, going to "Mizner Park" on weekends, strolling through shops, sitting in a restaurant, visiting an exhibition at the museum, going to the ocean to relax... A measured, quiet family life. Conservative.

We visited before Christmas, and many houses were traditionally decorated for the holiday. I, of course, took photos of the ones I liked, and I liked many houses. So look at what you might like. On that note, I’ll say goodbye to you for today. 

Taking this opportunity, I wish everyone a Happy New Year. It’s wonderful to live a daily life in a city where life flows slowly and predictably. I wish everyone predictability in life in the New Year, and if something new and unexpected suddenly appears, let it be joyful and bring happiness.

P.S. For myself. You can read it as well, it's educational, as I love to say. (Remember, I am a teacher.)

The abundance and variety of palms in Florida was striking. In Boca Raton, palms are planted either in groups or in rows. Identical palms in a row are very beautiful, though I don’t love them much. I remembered the tall, slender palms near the entrance to a gated community we drove past. I was struck by the color of the leaves: not green, but a gray-green-blue, with a silver tint. And the leaves were huge and fan-like. Those palms looked almost artificial. I regret not taking a photo. Now I decided to find out on the internet what kind of palm it was. I’m searching:

1. Royal Palm (Roystonea regia): The "aristocrat" of Boca Raton. Huge, perfectly smooth gray trunks that look like concrete columns, topped with a bright green smooth cylinder and lush feathery leaves. I saw many. They are usually planted at the grand entrances to expensive residential complexes and central avenues; these are the ones growing in Mizner Park. A status palm. But it’s not the one.

2. Coconut Palm (Cocos nucifera): A Florida classic. The very palms with elegantly curved trunks that we are used to seeing on postcards. We saw them growing near the beach. The photo on the cover of the story about going to the beach features this palm. But it’s not the one.

3. Foxtail Palm (Wodyetia bifurcata): They say it’s very popular. It has very fluffy leaves that truly resemble a fox's tail. It looks very neat and "expensive." But I didn't see any like that (or didn't notice).

4. Christmas Palm (Adonidia merrillii): Got its name because clusters of bright red fruits, like Christmas ornaments, ripen on it in winter. It’s small, so it’s often planted in groups of 2–3 right at the entrance to a house or by a pool. It’s in the pre-Christmas photos, but it’s not the one with the wide leaves.

5. Sabal Palm (Cabbage Palm): The official state tree of Florida. It looks a bit "wilder," with a rough trunk and fan-shaped leaves. Similar, but the leaf color isn't right.

6. Bismarck Palm (Bismarckia nobilis): Congratulations to me! This is exactly the palm that struck me so much. It’s impossible not to notice—it has huge fan leaves of an unusual silvery-blue color. And a great name, easy to remember.

Good thing I didn't have to look for long. I checked: twelve species of native palms grow in Florida. Boca Raton is a "paradise garden" for palms. Almost all of the 2,600 species existing in the world can grow here, except for the few that require mountain cold.

In reality, it’s hard to count, but the internet suggests that the total number of species that can be found in the gardens and on the streets of Boca Raton is in the hundreds. Thanks to the tropical climate, palms from all over the world thrive here: from Madagascar (Areca), Australia (Foxtail), the Canary Islands, and Southeast Asia (Coconut Palm).

And here is the article about drainage, just in case I want to read it... (this is for me, for me, not for

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Draining_and_development_of_the_Everglades

P.P.S.

Stories from the "Boca Raton" series.

1. A Journey to Paradise, or  The  Butterflies. Story One. 

https://theglobalgrandma67.blogspot.com/2026/01/a-journey-to-paradise-or-butterflies.html

2. The Alligators, or A Journey to Paradise. Part Two. 

https://theglobalgrandma67.blogspot.com/2026/01/the-alligators-or-journey-to-paradise.html

3. Sandy Beach, or The Crystal Dream of My Childhood. Story Three.

https://theglobalgrandma67.blogspot.com/2026/01/sandy-beach-or-crystal-dream-of-my.html

4. Boca Raton, or  A Small Excursion into the History of a Small Town.

https://theglobalgrandma67.blogspot.com/2026/01/boca-raton-or-small-excursion-into.html

5. The City Under Red Tiles, or Sunset Strolls Through Boca Raton.

https://theglobalgrandma67.blogspot.com/2026/01/the-city-under-red-tiles-or-sunset.html