Yesterday was Bermuda Day! I had been advised, that I could not possibly return home, without experiencing it. That advice served me well. If I am truly here, for cultural immersion, I had better listen to the advice of my new friends.
Bermuda Day marks the official start of summer on these islands, as Memorial Day does, in the United States. It is the first day that Bermudians will go into the water, traditionally. I find that to be so counter-intuitive, with the sea beckoning 24/7/365...!
The origins of our two holidays are quite different, aside from parades, and the welcoming of summer- the donning of white clothing in the U.S. and Bermuda shorts out in the Atlantic.
While at home, we honor those who have sacrificed their lives in service to our country, Bermuda Day was originally a day on which all of the British colonies would celebrate the birthday of Queen Victoria. Once they all gained independence, however, it shifted to a day of National heritage and pride.
Bermuda Day starts with a Half Marathon, beginning in Dockyard (West End of Bermuda) and ending in Hamilton. This is followed by an extravagant Bermuda Heritage Day parade in town. The theme, this year, was "What we Share"- adopted from an exhibition at the Bermuda National Gallery. I had been told to watch the morning's road race from the juncture of Salt Kettle Lane and Harbour Road. How convenient, to need only walk up the hill!
I watched with interest, next to my friend Larry, who was photographing all of the runners who were dressed in red and black (this is Larry's standard uniform, if you have not noticed).
Neighbors on both sides of the road were shouting words of encouragement to the runners- many of whom are amateurs, doing this race 'for fun'.
I admire anyone who can run further than myself (this includes just about everyone). To see hundreds of people running across Bermuda- in the heat and humidity, up and down hillsides- blew my mind. (I learned later than a runner had collapsed, right at my new friend Kate's driveway- she rode with the runner to the hospital!)
To think that the runners- who were passing Salt Kettle- had already run nine miles, and needed to run four more, made me want to find a hose and spray them down! I took notice of an interesting new fashion- umbrellas that affix to one's head- presumably, they work for sun or rain?
After taking in some of the race, I headed to town. I was told to get to there early, since the parade started around 2pm.
Honestly, I was not sure what to expect. As a New Yorker, I expected the worst. Is that pathetic? As a former New Orleanian, Mardi Gras was also in my mind. It turns out, that the advice to arrive early truly only pertains to those who bring outdoor furnishings...From the ferry, I could visualize countless tents lined up along Front Street. I surmised that they must be for food vendors. Not the case!
As I debarked The Coralita in Hamilton, I saw tents lining both sides of every street. I was stricken that the city had erected all of these spacious awnings to shade spectators from the sun!
I soon learned, that these were not official tents; each one belonged to a family. I had heard that Bermudians will stake their turf on the parade route, by marking the pavement with tape. I did not realize that they settle in, with style and comfort, for the entire holiday. Underneath each tent, would be an entire a buffet table, cooler, a full blown picnic, and chairs for the entire family.
The weather was gorgeous and hot. I was thirsty! Heading up Queen Street, I had a conversation with a handsome Security Guard, who told me what the parade route would be. I stopped into Bulli Social for a quick bite and a Swizzle. After that, it was time to explore and people-watch!
What impressed me the very most about Bermuda Day, was not only the manicured appearance of Bermudians gathered together, but also the National pride in this tradition.There was no overcrowding. There were no mobs. There was no pushing, or lack of space permitting a comfortable path for foot traffic. Bermudians took over the town, and owned it.
I saw very few barricades of any kind, and only random Security guards and police. It was as if everyone knew the rules, and everyone obeyed the rules. There was plenty of room for everyone.
I was planning to watch the parade at the end of Front Street, on Queen Street. However, a wise Bermudian told me that I would be better off seeing the parade at an earlier juncture, rather than the tail end, when participants would likely be tired! I headed up to the corner of Church and Burnaby, and waited with hundreds of others for the parade to start.
And waited... And waited...
Having become accustomed the the 'orderliness of things', I expected the parade to take place on time, and for the parade to be a parade- with one group, following the other in successive cadence.
To the contrary, this parade was executed in fits and starts, which made for a sporadic pulse of excitement. While I know that "comparison is the theft of joy", I have seen the execution of Mardi Gras parades. I had to wonder if the pace of the parade was intentional, so that it would last the whole day?
Once the action started, I was delighted! I could not wait to see the Gombeys!
As I glanced down toward my feet, I saw a young lady, seated in a beach chair, with her grandmother (I presume). My eyes became fixed on the 'Parade Schedule' she had in her hands- there were to be 56 participants, and The Gombeys were to be last!! OH NO...There would be marching bands, civic groups, military troops, motorcycle groups, dancing teams, vintage cars, and even a choo choo train, full of seniors- all prior to the GOMBEYS.
I asked a photographer, who was standing next to me, "Excuse me, how long does this parade go on?" He said, "We'll be here until 6:00!" That would mean four more hours of standing in the heat. My phone would die, and I would not be able to capture the Gombeys...
I needed to make some critical decisions. I walked down the hill, to Devils Isle, and ordered a Dark-n-Stormy, taking a seat in their window bar. I figured that I certainly had time to kill, or at least, time to decide if I would bail on the parade finale?
Marlys decided to wave her wand. Knowing that I had suffered from the heat during my stay, and would be hard pressed to stay out all day on foot, she sent me a sign.
Two sips of my D&S later... an authentic Bermudian GOMBEY appeared, in full regalia, coming down the hill, at a rapid clip.
Without any thought, I jumped up, grabbed my phone and ran out of the restaurant, leaving all of my belongings behind!
Mind you, this is the first time that I have been spurred to run down any street, chasing someone...ever.
I shouted "Excuse me! Excuse me!" Excuse me!", as I chased the Gombey, down Burnaby Street.
A small child signaled the Gombey to turn around. "Can I please take your picture?!", I asked.
He stopped and struck a traditional pose, just for me.
As I headed back to my purse full of money and my iced cold drink, I found myself laughing- at myself. Marlys had sent me a Gombey.
As I walked back into Devils Isle, I heard another tourist ask the Gombey to stop. He replied, "I can't! I've gotta go dance, man!"
I walked down to Front Street, and listened, as an effervescent female commentator announced each of the participating parade groups. It was nice to be at the center of the action, with an announcer, who shared the backstory of the participants.
There was even a section, designated for tourists' comfort, set up by the Bermuda Tourism Authority- so very civilized.
As I made my way toward the ferry dock, I was captivated by a dance troupe of young ladies in turquoise sequins, dancing with Beyonce's signature moves, to "Can't Stop the Feeling" by Justin Timberlake.
It was marvelous!
Having used the same song, as a track for the video entry that I made for President Obama's Foundation, it had a special resonance.
As I left Hamilton, the music and celebration could be heard across the water. I thought to myself, 'this is how they celebrate'... I could do this once a year with my family (and Nina's cooking), if there was an island breeze... I would be in charge of our tent's ambience.
I felt gratified that I had stayed
for this holiday. Unlike the big summer holidays in the Hamptons (occasions when locals retreat), Bermuda puts its best face forward, and comes together.
Back at Salt Kettle, I grappled with whether to go up to Janie's; she was having a pool party. I came to the conclusion, that showing up at the end of a party is not the most polite thing to do. Chances are, they would now be as tired, as I was- from the sun! If only I had known that the Gombeys were not parading until 6pm, I could have spent a few hours at Jane's party... I missed the memo on that.
After a much needed rest in the AC, I contemplated where to have dinner. It was a beautiful night; thus an outdoor venue would be key.
I made a reservation for one, at a true fave- The Dining Room at Gibbs Hill Lighthouse. During this trip, I have had dinner there, three times. I thought about Edwina and Dudley, who had brought me here for Mother's Day.
Being able to sit outside, on a terrace that has few tables, overlooking the splendors of the islands is without compare. Coupled with good Italian fare and wine, this makes for one happy girl.
Something that I have noticed, about dining here in Bermuda, is that hosts welcome me as a single person. They do not say, "Just one?!", when I ask for a table. They say, "One for dinner?"I am respected, on a par with any party of four. They do not shove me in the corner, next to the kitchen or the rest room, in the smallest, least desirable spot. They let me choose where I want to dine (!)- even if the table is set for four!
My favorite table on the mini-cliff was calling my name. After shooting a few photos, I settled in and ordered a drink. I felt very content, and perhaps it was obvious. My 'daisyness' was showing.
At the adjacent table was a family of three. I wondered why they had not chosen to sit where I was! We struck up friendly conversation.
All of a sudden, they said, "We would like you to join us for dinner. Come sit here! It will be fun!"This had never happened in my lifetime...
Oddly, my newfound dinner companions are the owners of The Newstead Resort on Hamilton Harbour- a stone's throw from Salt Kettle. Highly ironic for all of us, they hail from New York, too!
Over an appetizing dinner, we discussed our shared love of Bermuda, the history of tourism, their acquisition of Newstead, among other things.
After treating me to supper, Larry and his family offered me a lift back to Salt Kettle- but not before taking me to Newstead, to introduce me to their infinity pool! I had discussed with them the 'pool envy' that I had been suffering from, during my holiday.
Judging by appearances, Newstead looks like an exquisite property. While previously utilized primarily by business travelers, it is now marketing to everyone with equal zest. The owners offer options for fractional partnership, and have made alliances on the island to better the visitors' experience. This is savvy.
For example, Newstead residents can utilize Elbow Beach (this is equivalent to the value of GOLD for many); in return, Elbow Beach residents can utilize Newstead's golf course.
Newstead also has its' own land and sea shuttles, which make logistics easier to manage. I will need to make a point to try this spot in the near future.
As the sun set, I was tired, but my heart was light, having experienced more of the fabric, that is Bermuda; it is tightly woven.
If only our country could come- even a hair closer- to this kind of unity, civility, and warmth. We could learn a lot from this little oasis...
Wow! I was entranced as usual by the energy, rich detail, and delightful pictures. Ypu put me rigjt there!
ReplyDeleteI wish that you had been with me! xo
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