110833821
They rode from the airport to the hotel in Hamilton in a van on a winding road with barely enough room to separate oncoming traffic. The windows were open, letting in the warm, humid air redolent of oleander and jasmine. There are places in your life that you visit once, and once is more than enough, and then again there may be a place that draws you back again and again.
The couple had spent the first week of their marriage more than 49 years ago in Bermuda and thereafter seemed to reach some kind of milestone each time they returned. The last time — almost 10 years ago — had not been good. He had been restless, in a frame of mind that marks even the happiest of unions with the sourness of fatigue and discontent. This time, he vowed would be different; he would make it up to her, bask in the sunset of the best decision he had ever made in his life — the day he married her.
Anthony Newley once sang “Stop the World, I Want to Get Off.” Bermuda is that chance to halt the carousel of life, even if for only six days. They tossed away all schedules, not an easy thing for him who swears by an organized regimen. Together they glided through the humid heat of afternoons spent by the pool at the Hamilton Princess, along Front Street or on a water shuttle to another part of the tiny island. Soft summer nights floated by watching the distant flashing lights from Gibbs Hill Lighthouse, as cicadas serenaded them with their own version of the Hallelujah Chorus. No cell phones. No clocks or watches, at least to which they paid any attention.
One night in the bar and lounge of the big hotel, a duo performed — two men whose harmonies ranged from Marvin Gaye to Bob Marley and the Wailers. They drew a sizeable following of native Bermudians. His wife, whose adept ease at making friends had always astonished him, plied her magic with the Bermudian women and soon was dancing and clapping her hands with them on the crowded dance floor.
The normally sedate lounge exploded as the audience cheered the women. Suddenly a group of young 20-something New York women, part of a bachelorette party, ran with a tumultuous uproar onto the crowded dance floor. The young women were obviously used to commanding attention and had an almost arrogant conceit in their self-confidence as they assumed the spotlight. The dancing finally ended with the soon-to-be bride brandishing a balloon in the shape of male genitalia. It took quite a while for the shock to fade away and normal conversation to resume. Afterward, the Bermudian women not only hugged his wife, but included him in their embrace. Score one for peace, love and harmony.
However, all is not serene in Bermuda. Even a remote semi-tropical paradise has to deal with the reality of the world. Seated at a nearby table was a member of the Bermuda tourist board and a former member of its parliament. They struck up a conversation with him. He admitted that Bermuda was having difficulty competing for tourist dollars with other Caribbean islands. Tourism is Bermuda’s biggest source of revenue other than being the world center for international insurance corporations which are lured by less regulations and business taxes. Once boasting one of the highest GDP per capita in the world, Bermuda, too, has been hurt by the world-wide recession, which has included a dip in its housing market.
Although Bermuda has a natural advantage of being a relatively short flight away from the northeastern United States, and still has pristine coral beaches and deep blue ocean waters, it is significantly more expensive than many of the other Caribbean islands. Younger couples are lured to other islands by all-inclusive packages that include drinks and food and by gambling and a wilder nightlife (what had just occurred on the hotel dance floor was the exception, not the rule). Bermuda seems reluctant to dumb down its food to offer all-inclusive packages, and so far has not succumbed to building casinos.
The member of the tourism board believes that Bermuda also has forsaken its own culture. The famous steel bands that were popular in the 1950s no longer greet visitors at the airport, and seldom perform at the big hotels anymore. Bermuda’s famous balladeer, Hubert Smith, is gone from the scene and no one has replaced his unique Bermudian style. Young Bermudian performers are prone to sing American pop songs and Marley’s reggae, which is associated with Jamaica’s indigenous culture, not Bermuda’s. The money flowing from the big cruise ships that dock at the port in Bermuda cannot sustain its economy. The cruise lines run their own tours of the island, and the relatively short time they spend in port does not allow tourists much time to spend money in the island’s shops. Bermuda is battling against the tide.
If you are lucky, you may experience a moment when it is almost possible to believe in a gracious and elegant world, where love doesn’t fade with age but grows stronger, where it is possible to reach out and touch the stars shining above the lighthouse, a place where Daisy Buchanan could have decided to run off with Gatsby.
Only in Bermuda.
Contact the South Philly Review at editor@southphillyreview.com.
110833821
110833831
