TAMPA, FL – It’s season for witches – and ghosts, zombies and everything that happens in the night.

To add an extra dose of scare to the Halloween season, the Official Ybor Ghost Tour, named the # 1 ghost tour in the United States by City Traveler, added additional tours in October to meet continued high demand. during the Halloween season, including special tours at 10:30 p.m. October 25-31.

“This whole place has a unique character that you really can’t find in any other city,” said Lonnie Herman, founder of the Official Ybor Ghost Tour, adding that the city’s infamous past makes it ubiquitous.

“This town in 1885 was nothing but a lost hell in a swamp,” said tour guide Greg Milton. “There were 700 people here in 1885. The largest population was snakes, mosquitoes and alligators.”

Ybor City was built on the backs of Cuban and Italian immigrants who came to America in search of a better life. Many ended up working in one of the city’s many thriving cigar factories, settling in shotgun-style homes and hastily-built and overcrowded wood-frame buildings, where they perished in settlements. fires and the yellow fever epidemic in the 1900s.

At the height of the cigar industry, Ybor City produced around half a billion cigars a year for which immigrants were paid literally pennies to roll while wealthy factory owners built mansions on Davis and Bayshore Islands. Boulevard, according to Jeff “El Jefe” Hartzog, who works for the management company that runs the Cuban Club.

The largest fire in Tampa history occurred on March 1, 1908, at 1914 12th Ave., according to Tampa Fire Rescue. The fire started in the shingled roof of a boarding house and quickly spread to more than 17 blocks. Countless adults and children died in the blaze. Store owners swear they can still hear the laughter of the youngest victims of the fire.

During Prohibition in the 1920s, Ybor City became a notorious haunt for gangsters. Gaming Czar Charles Wall used political connections to set up a bolita gaming racket in Ybor City and opened the lavish sports hall, El Dorado Lounge, on 8th Avenue and 14th Street. It has become a haven for underworld figures and the scene of drive-by shootouts of Wall’s rival, Salvatore Trafficante Sr.

Plus, the top floors of El Dorado are said to be the “biggest bad name house outside of New Orleans.”

Between 1930 and 1959, Tampa witnessed more than 25 gang murders, most of them in Ybor City. Among them, on November 10, 1936, George “Saturday” Zarate, a drug dealer working for New York gangster Charles “Lucky” Luciano, was shot dead in front of El Dorado. A year later, Joe Vaglichi, whose brother was Al Capone’s bodyguard, died in a hail of bullets from another car driving past the playhouse.

The former Don Vicente Hotel in Ybor City, now the Casa Ybor residential and office building, has been called one of the most haunted buildings in America by Haunted Rooms and has been featured in one of the top rated episodes of The Travel Channel’s show, “The Dead Files”, in 2011.

Built in 1895, the structure served as a hotel, meeting place (El Bien Publico) and hospital.

Dr Jose Luis Avellena Jr. and his disembodied nurse are said to haunt Don Vicente’s basement. There are also reports of an appearance of a mad doctor who experimented on patients and then burned the bodies in the basement incinerator.

When the hotel was operating, room 305, in particular, was a reported hot spot for paranormal activity. A number of guests have reported seeing the appearance of a man at the foot of the bed. Other spooky events in the Don Vicente include flickering lights, squeaky footsteps, doors opening and closing, and faucets opening and closing.

Another infamous haunted place is the Cuban Club, built in 1917. The official Ybor City Ghost Tour is the only tour allowed in the building.

Among the hauntings of the historic club, one is attributed to Dr Cooley, chairman of the club’s board of directors, who was murdered by a club rival during a heated argument.

Visitors have also reported seeing a ghost named Jamie or Jimmy, an 8 or 9-year-old boy who allegedly drowned while swimming unsupervised in the Cuban Club’s indoor pool in the basement.

In 2009, the TV show “Ghost Hunters” visited the Cuban Club and claimed to have made contact with the boy.

“With a building that has been around for so long, there will always be intrigue, and that is the case here,” Hertzog said. “I heard elevators running on their own, footsteps, doors opening and closing, or pushing against me as I tried to close them, and many other strange and interesting things.”

“When I first started touring, I didn’t think much of it,” Milton said. “But after four years, I can tell you it’s real. I know ghosts are real.”

Among the stories Milton tells on his tour is that of a young actor playing a play he himself wrote on the Cuban Club stage when he forgot his lines.

Out of embarrassment or shame, he returned to the club after hours, draped a rope over the stage catwalk, put it around his neck, and jumped to his death.

During his tours, Milton said visitors saw flashes of light and orbs floating around the theater. He himself saw a faceless man sitting in the front row of the empty theater and an ethereal woman in period clothing with strange glowing orange eyes.

He said the club’s fourth floor is also haunted by a famous dancer who rejected the advances of an infatuated fan. One night, the man got drunk and pushed the dancer over the balcony to her death.

Another site that has reportedly been haunted is the former Florida Brewing Company at 1234 E. 5th Ave.

In 1896, Vicente Martinez-Ybor decided to try his hand at brewing beer and built his brewery on the site of the government source. Discovered in 1824, the spring supplied water to Fort Brooke. Later, a swimming pool and an ice factory were built on the site.

A ghost story dates back to the opening of the brewery. To celebrate, the brewery offered free beer and a fight broke out between two men who drank a little too much. A man of Cuban descent suffered serious head injuries during the scuffle and died. Visitors now claim to see a drunken man with a Hispanic accent hanging out around the building.

In 1999, law firm Swope Rodante spent millions to restore the old brewery, but the renovations have failed to deter the spirits that continue to haunt the building. Those who work in the building continue to report strange sightings.

The tour also stops at places like Rock Brothers Brewing at 1901 N. 15th St., and Cerealholic Cafe & Bar and Afterholic Speakeasy at 1909 N. 15th St., both of which have reported close encounters with the dead.

Cerealholic is located in a former church where owner Lisa Lawson claims she heard windows slam and things went missing and then mysteriously returned.

It allows visitors to have their own ghostly encounters every Thursday through Sunday at 4 p.m., 6 p.m. and 8 p.m. in October when the upstairs breakfast cereal-themed cafe bar and 1920s-style sweatshop downstairs host “The Haunted Tavern: A Dark Pop-Up Cocktail Experience.” Tickets cost $ 55 and include four cocktails. Click here.

Like Milton, Herman said he started out as a skeptic.

“Eventually I really became a believer in how haunted these buildings really are,” he said. “I have come face to face with some of these entities. I have talked with them, I have conversed with them, I have even sometimes made them laugh. I have also made them mad from time to time.”

While Herman does not guarantee that visitors will spot a ghost on tours, he said they will be entertained by interesting stories about Ybor City’s colorful history.

“People ask me all the time if they’re going to see a ghost. I can’t guarantee that. It’s up to the ghosts to decide,” Herman said.

But more than a few who have taken the tour say they have seen restless souls dressed in immigrant clothes or zoot and fedora costumes.

“There are no smoke and mirrors on my tour,” Herman said. “The ghosts seem to come out on their own.”

Since COVID-19 restrictions remain in effect and tour sizes are limited, early bookings are encouraged by visiting the website or calling 813-386-3905 24 hours a day.

Tours cost $ 25 for adults and $ 10 for children 8 to 12 years old. Special rates are available on Tuesdays. The tour is not open to children under 5 and children under 16 must be accompanied by an adult.

For schedules and reservations, click here.

“Are you sure you can drive a shift lever?” Aldo asked as we sat on the veranda outside the lobby of my hotel in Mykonos. A tall, mustached Albanian who understood cars perfectly, Aldo gave me the keys to a tiny Fiat Panda in fireman red. He looked at me as if he had handed over a gun instead and asked if I knew how to engage the safety.

“I learned about a Triumph,” I assured him, remembering the sporty British convertible of my youth.

He carefully handed the key to my rental car to Assimomitis, a local company, adding, “Turn off the air conditioning before going up a steep hill. “

My hotel, the new and spacious five-star Amazon Mykonos Resort & Spa, stretched out on a hill on the southwest coast of the island, right next to Agios Ioannis beach. The only way out of the steep driveway was at the top, and I approached the summit at Panda Red before turning off the A / C and trying again. This time I succeeded.

This was my third visit to the Greek island of Mykonos. Although long recognized as the queen of the Cycladic island group, during my last visits in the 1980s, a capricious and disorganized hotel infrastructure demonstrated that Mykonos had not yet taken the wheel of the international express of the luxury travel. My introduction to the island had been arriving at the modest four star hotel that I had been told was the first place, only to find out that it had lost my reservation. I was exiled to a simple bed and breakfast nearby.

I came back six years later to see things still pretty much the same; indeed, half the fun on both trips was trying to find a restaurant or tavern meal that wasn’t criminally awful.

At that time, to reach one of the popular beaches on the southern end of the island, one had to take a weathered boat inevitably led by a grizzled and aging sailor. Following bad advice, the first time I tried it, the skipper dropped me off at Super Paradise Beach, at the time the island’s gay nudist beach. Swimming without panties has been Greek since before the start of the Olympics, in 776 BC.

How times have changed. All the buildings on the island have the same white stucco block appearance, offering both charm and wonderful architectural uniformity. White boulders rise out of the barren-brown landscape, punctuating the hillsides like milestones along narrow, rolling roads.

Mykonos Town now looked like it used to be, with narrow pedestrianized main streets for the streets. The difference was that they were now filled with good restaurants serving good Greek wines. There were still some modest local boutiques, but there was also a Gucci, a Kiton and many other luxury names that you know. New white buildings, some quite large and elegant, populated the rear hills previously inhabited by goats.

For my first trip, I took Panda Red to the center of the island, to see the Monastery of Panagia Tourliani. Tourist buses circled the square outside, and cruise ship trippers piled into its narrow church in relays. It was like trying to get spiritual revelation in a mall on Christmas Eve.

From there, Panda Red and I reached the lighthouse at the northwestern tip of the island. Isolated, desolate, and motionless, it looked like an artifact from a disused missile base, but the promontory it stood on offered a brilliant view of the city and its harbors in the distance.

I then made my way to what the GPS said was the entrance to a northern beach, Panormos, but found myself in such a steep fern path, even with the air conditioning turned off Panda Red struggled to climb to freedom, only succeeding on the second attempt. Finally arriving at my destination and avoiding the valet parking to protect Panda Red from damage, I arrived at the entrance to the beach, which was effectively blocked off by the Principote Beach Club. Full of chic young people in designer labels, I could have sworn it was Saint-Barth during a Vogue cover shoot.

Even if I had wanted to pay dearly to rent a “transat” (lounge chair), it was not possible because I had not made a reservation in time. I followed the directions through a desolate path to the free side of the strand, resulting in a low-end version of what I remembered from my previous visits.

Dinner was at the Amazon, at an outdoor table in his Flavor restaurant, above the long infinity pool, served, by chance, by another conscientious Albanian named Aldo. The food at the hotel was always good and good value for money.

Overnight someone had discovered a utility access panel in front of Panda Red’s right front wheel – which fell into the hole the moment I released the parking brake. A huge man from the car rental company has now appeared, only to say sullenly that I was wrong: it was not possible to free the car. I asked him to get into the driver’s seat. After summoning three copious men from the hotel staff, with one in front, two on the right side and me in front, the driver backed the car back as I shouted, “Push, men, push!” until Panda Red is released, with no signs of damage.

I told a young man at the hotel that from now on I would be grateful if they parked the vehicle. Another asked gently, “Do you want to keep your parking space, sir?” “

After checking out the Oracle of Delphi (it now has an app), I made a commitment to limit my driving to very short trips, which would result in a surprisingly delicious day of luxury, Mykonos new way. The Amazon prepared me with a delicious breakfast by the sea. From there I drove a few minutes across the beach, to arrive at the small and very exclusive Bill & Coo Coast Suites, where refined minimalism was a calming motif throughout.

I was finally able to rest on a beach lounger, conscientiously assisted by the staff. I only interrupted this for lunch at the open-air Beefbar Mykonos restaurant, which offered a Mediterranean version of the steakhouse, like my sophisticated al Kobe beef pasta – meat ravioli topped with black truffles.

Dinner was at Katikies Mykonos, across the street. The chef of his restaurant Mikrasia, Aggelos Bakopoulos, served a special signature menu (literally: as a souvenir, I received a signed copy) at outdoor tables set in the sands of the beach. I particularly enjoyed his bar à la polita; surprisingly sweet, the fish fillet was served in a foamy vegetable sauce. I could watch the sun set in the sea, the island turning blue and falling into royal darkness for the night.

Even a short overnight drive was a challenge. The roads twisted like confetti in a windstorm, and local drivers passed me with inches to spare if I used the wrong way to obey the speed limits.

The southern beaches were close enough that I could hazard a return visit. New roads were reaching them now, and they swayed beneath Panda Red like roller coaster tracks. I braked for a carefree goat and came back to Super Paradise Beach, which only resembled its old self in name. Opulent and well-attended, with lounge chairs and champagne available at your leisure, it was both sophisticated and suitable for family visits.

The same was true for Agrari, the nearby beach, where I got a lounger in a peripheral group for 15 euros ($ 18) – by far the cheapest I had seen. A diligent and somewhat abandoned man served inexpensive comfort food.

I set out on foot for the opposite end of the beach, climbing a hill bristling with jagged rocks, facing Elia Beach, just to the east. Below the ridge, however, was a small sandy alcove. Although it was not listed on my tourist map, it contained more than three dozen men, almost all naked, crammed into beach towels. Many were young and fairly well built; I thought to myself: I’m older and bald lately, but I’ve kept my abs soaking wet – surely that’s a visa for entry into Poseidon’s domain.

Since my last visits, haven’t I learned that to travel well you have to go beyond your comfort zone? I took the narrow, single path to the beach, without saying exactly “Sorry, straight dude coming”, but obviously giving that impression I was once again politely ignored by all.

To complete the circle of my first experience at Super Paradise Beach so long ago, I joined the other guys for a good Greek dip. The water was perfect – the right temperature and the smooth ride that made it feel more like an outdoor bath than a trip to the beach.

When leaving Mykonos, Aldo came to pick up Panda Red. He quietly and carefully documented four areas of slight damage, likely caused in parking lots or by roadside ferns, handing me a bill for 600 euros (around $ 700). (I was told later that my Mykonos driving experience was not uncommon.)

Aldo offered to drive me to the ferry in a company SUV. When dropping me off, he left me a good tip: “Next time, please take taxis.”