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We have been on a bit of a bad run the last several years on vacation when it comes to adverse weather. So, we were not really surprised then that when we recently arrived in Bermuda that the mid-60s temperatures were actually cooler than those when we left Philadelphia. That, plus the fact that the gentle Bermuda breeze had actually been transformed into a strong wind that blew the seat cushions off the lounge chairs, made it difficult to enjoy the pool, even though it was heated. We are not sure whether the reason for the relatively cool Bermuda temperatures is climate change or the Cardella jinx.
Our favorite hotel, the Hamilton Princess, is under construction, so our “soundtrack” for our hotel stay was the sound of a drill biting into concrete. We last stayed at this particular hotel three years ago. Since then, it experienced an ownership change, and much of the Bermudian charm has been replaced by the curse of modernism, which includes a metal replica of a Japanese pumpkin. Several hotel employees told us the “pumpkin” cost a cool one million dollars in American money (Bermuda has pegged its currency to the American dollar). Must be a helluva Halloween celebration in Bermuda.
If you are getting the idea that we didn’t enjoy our Bermuda vacation, you would be wrong. For my wife Fran and me, Bermuda has become our personal paradise. That’s the thing about paradise – it doesn’t have to be complicated. Bermuda just has to be there waiting for us less than a two-hour flight away. I don’t want or need a cruise ship with a midnight buffet. I have found the Bermuda Triangle vastly overrated. Our flights were serene and relatively peaceful in both directions. My biggest challenge these days is elbowing some chunky guy, who looks terrible in walk shorts, out of the way so I can get the last empty space in the overhead compartment to store our luggage. I have even passed the age where I need to remove my shoes to get through Transportation Security Administration, although not so in Bermuda where the only security they seem to care about upon departure is requiring everyone to remove their shoes, no matter what the age.
Despite the cool temperatures, we sneaked in a few days lounging at poolside. Is there any better place to relax? I sometimes think that in waiting nine months for us to be born, our mothers provided the “beach” and “water” and that is the only place where we can find peace these days.
Family and friends always ask what one did on vacation. Lacking any desire for water sports or playing golf or doing much of anything besides catching up on my reading, I am afraid I never have anything exciting to report. I am definitely not the most interesting man in the world or even in the top 100. Because I desperately want to be liked and do not ever want to disappoint anyone, I find that it’s best to make up stuff. If you hear anyone tell you that I went snorkeling, sang a duet on “Purple Rain” with a guy at Hog Penny on Front Street in Bermuda the night after Prince passed, or had afternoon tea with the Queen of England, who likes to visit her finest British possession on cool April days, he or she is merely passing along my vacation fibs. If you’re interested in reality, we did pluck the wrong suitcase off the carousel upon arriving in Philadelphia. Neither my wife or I realized the mistake until we arrived by taxi in front of our house, thus necessitating a ride back to the airport in said taxi to exchange bags with a young couple with a baby. She seemed a bit ticked, but he was very much understanding of our plight when we told him that we don’t drive and spent an extra $20 cab fare to achieve the luggage swap.
To be sure, we didn’t just eat and shop in Bermuda. We did see a play, “Little Wars,” put on by a British theater company. The tiny theater is tucked away on top of a hill in Hamilton, part of a complex with a bar that is available to club members (mostly Brits) as well as the public (meaning us). The actors join everyone at the bar after the show for a pint of Guinness or a Pimm’s cup. We had a jolly good time.
Just as the New Jersey Shore appears to be heavily dependent on bringing in youth with work visas from Romania, so we found it at our hotel in Bermuda. The Romanian kids we met all worked hard for long hours for minimal pay, employment conditions that are not known to attract typical American youths.
They also were self-conscious about their use of English, though they were forced to learn the language on their own and spoke it reasonably well. Most of the Romanians we met carry a hint of sadness about them, the loneliness of being away from home meeting the sense of adventure, with loneliness sometimes winning.
Bermuda has its own fragrance. Oleander is everywhere. As I peered out the window of the van taking us back to the airport on our day of departure, there was an unobtrusive building. A small sign outside read ADULT STORE. It, too, was surrounded by oleander. ■
