Bermudaful - Island adventures in Bermuda - 14 yo son & 82 yo mother. Part 1
Bermuda is an island, in the Atlantic, at the 32nd parallel. Diagonally akin to southern New Mexico, and the Mediterranean Sea. A volcanic island finned from a long extinct cone. Now, a limestone atoll built-up by millenniums of pink coral creatures sunning themselves with calm, clear ocean currents.
16 yo cabin boy from 1813 |
Aside from the prehistoric formation, the human story starts in the 1500s. Unlike the North American continent, it lies 650 miles east of North Carolina, and ~1000 miles north of the next closest Caribbean Island; this island sat, uninhabited, basking with birds and nature for most of its existence. Likely, it remained untouched due to its remote location and lack of any fresh water reserves. Any and all grottos are brackish; dense sea water below, fresh rainwater afloat.
(The Spanish/Portuguese were uninterested in the island, as it lacked precious metals or indigenous people to enslave, but they did shove pigs overboard in the case of stranded fellow pirates/privateers. Pigs can’t fly but they can swim.)
St. George, the east end outpost town and our first visit, now boasts the oldest continuously active, Protestant church in the “New World” (just a few qualifiers). St. Peter’s is a lovely, quintessential island church, with cedar beams and white washed ceilings, substantially understated. The outside yards are adorned with above ground crypts and, of note, were also segregated. Whites with crypts, people of color with grave markers only.
Mark for Segregated Cemetery |
Way back when, I was probably 12ish, I came here with my parents, it was for my Dad’s Council Group, a bunch of rich, white CEOs wanting to be able to write-off their trip and get some hells-good business advice from my dad; tee-times and Bermuda shorts the norm when not in seminar. Darling wives lying next to the pool with easy access to overpriced shops hawking nautical-themed silk tops and gold filigree necklaces. Curling pedicures stuffed into white sandals desperately attempting to obscure gnarled, tennis-weary toes. If we went sightseeing, it was in a hired cab, arranged by hotel staff. And I do remember an excursion to gardens with peacocks and ocean-lined pathways, I venture it was the Bermuda Aquarium. The wealthy still visit Bermuda, now predominantly hedge-funders and insurance tax evaders. Drawn here for the numerous golf-courses (more per square mile than anywhere else). The other tourist conveyance are the very transient, massive cruise-liners and the chattel therein.
Thank goodness for our very own St. Peter, John’s cousin, Peter H. Another reason we choose this remote island. His ancestors landed a couple generations back and visiting had always been on John’s bucket list. Peter has a 5-seater car and was willing to cab my mom around, along with John’s other visiting cousin Serena and husband Tim. However much, mom opted-out of our beach ventures, deciding instead to lounge in the AC cooled, 1800s plantation style home we rented. She may have also dipped her toes in the private pool. Of note, she never played tennis.
I will say, the Bermudians are an astonishingly patient lot. Tourist scooters are marked with red license plates and “giving-way” seems to be a national motto, especially for those with the scarlet letter plates. The roads are tight, knocking-side-mirrors-kind-of-tight, with wild hedgerows and limestone walls lining every thoroughfare. This is a dangerous situation at best, then add public buses (another tourist option) and freight trucks, all driving on the “correct” (left) side of the road. Therefore, giving-way is a survival necessity, as are excellent brakes. Even at posted 25mph, speeds are 40mph in practice. Passing on the right is expected and a fine art by the zippy locals. You may get your scooter license at 16, drivers at 18. Thankfully, my 18yo and I have our motorcycle endorsement, but we both suffered some angoraphobia. Economically, it had to be scooters when we couldn’t be shuttled by Cousin Peter. And as much as I could lounge by a tropical pool, I would have had a very bored husband. Balance overcame fear.
And it is true, Bermudians are some of the nicest people to interact with, and impressively patient with the elderly. It's was almost like a competition as to who could better tend to my mom when she wasn't with us.
#Bermudaful