Swimming in Money

Sundays are a quiet day in Bermuda. Unlike The Hamptons, many things here are closed. Bermuda is a highly spiritual place. I have been told that there are 120 churches here- reportedly the largest number of churches per capita- anywhere. 

I looked forward to going to church, having attended services at Peace Lutheran on Easter Sunday. Despite the ample supply of places to worship, there is only one Lutheran Church here; it is on South Road in Paget.

As luck would have it, my cab was on 'island time'. I wound up late to church, but they had not started. Walking in late, I took a seat in the last pew, hoping to avoid any attention! On Easter, all of the visitors were asked to introduce themselves to the congregation. I had hoped to fly in under the radar this time... 

I sat down, and listened to the other visitors introduce themselves. Next thing I knew, I felt the eyes of the Deacon, looking directly at me. He actually pointed to me, way at the back, and said, "And you?" I greeted the crowd of maybe twenty.

Later, when we exchanged the peace, many people remembered me from Easter, as Kristen and I had shared a private prayer with the Pastor regarding our recent losses.

Sunday church services in Bermuda are lovely. Both times that I have attended, there have been 8+ hymns to be sung. 

During the Prayers of The Intersession, everyone in the church has held hands- making a snake-like chain through the pews. 

I was heartened to hear a special prayer for caregivers this Sunday; I felt my mom speaking to me. 

The congregation at Peace Lutheran even sings through communion- it is a special experience to behold.

The Pastor of the church was off the island. Unfortunately, I had a difficult time understanding the visiting speaker, due to his very strong Bermudian accent. Nonetheless, the rest of the service resonated well, as did some lively conversation over cake and coffee, following the service.

I have only recently started to go to church at home; thus, I am not familiar with the cadence of all of the hymns. At St. Michael's in Amagansett, the congregation is so small, that there is no 'vocal leader' to follow, if you get lost along the way. This is not the case, here in Bermuda.  Select voices bellow;  I was fortunate to sit next to the same gentleman that carried me at Easter.  

Following the service, I made new acquaintances readily. I particularly enjoyed a conversation about Bermuda's "Decency Laws". Come to think of it, I am not sure how we got on that topic...?! 

Prior to arrival, when looking for information on what types of foods I was permitted to bring in, I had noticed the immigration rules barring any kind of vulgarity. 

I was also amused to learn that it is against the law to go without a shirt in Bermuda. In fact, you can get pulled over for this disgusting offense! Although, do not worry yourself too much. I am told that the Bermudian police will likely just tell you to "Put your shirt on, man!" 

Likewise, you had better not blast your music, either. It is against the law to play music loud enough for another car to hear it. Wow!

Bermudians have a way of making one feel special. During the coffee hour, I was invited to go on a beach walk with the Pastor's wife, invited to have a picnic, even invited for a ride to the supermarket- at anytime. People treat each other like family on this island- there is no aloofness or estrangement, or behaving as though another human does not exist. 

I have even noticed that my hosts will address me by name (as their mum taught them). It is not merely, "Good Morning!"; it is "Good Morning, Daisy!" or better yet, "Good Morning, Dahhhhhling!"

After church, a nice gentleman offered to bring me back to Salt Kettle- the same person who had given us a ride on Easter. He offered to pick me up next Sunday- how kind is that?

My schedule lately has been as rambling as this fabulous Salt Kettle Guest House.



On Sunday, I did not venture out to lunch until late in the day- to a place that I first patronized in 1994- an adorable little diner called The Paraquet (pronounced 'parakeet'). There I sat for lunch at about 3:30pm, the only diner in the house. I loved being back, because the place evokes days gone by. It is vintage, and just "up my alley" as Marlys would say.


As the sun became less intense, I walked up the hill to Elbow Beach, to end my day in the sea. The beach was hardly crowded and the waves were big. I watched as three little Bermudian kids swam alone with floaties; it occurred to me that I might need to spring into action, because I could not visualize any parents.  


I must have stood in the sea for a very long time- just admiring the crashing waves and relishing being cool. Coming from a coastline where the ocean appears opaque, I cannot overestimate the beauty of being able to see straight to the bottom of the ocean in Bermuda- at least at the shoreline. There is nothing but smooth sand...

A big chunk of seaweed floated by. It reminded me of how my hair looked in Bermuda at Easter. So grateful to have gotten a Keratin process prior to this trip; I am low maintenance now- can get ready for dinner in 5! 

Oddly enough, I noticed something pink floating on top of the water, too. As it came closer, it made me laugh! It was pink MONEY! 

How fortuitous for me, to be standing there, at that moment (despite the fact that $5 is barely enough to buy an Iced Coffee here).

I grabbed the money, and quickly turned to the little boy next to me, who was now swimming alone. "Hey! I think you left something here!" He eyes widened. I said, "I just found this in the sea! Take it, and go buy a toy!" 

I have never seen a child flee the ocean so fast. Warmed my heart!

Back at Salt Kettle, I longed for comfort food. It was decided (by me, myself and I) that I would take the last ferry to town, and have a quick supper at Portofino. 

For the first time in 12 visits to Bermuda, I was all alone on the ferry to town. I enjoyed every minute.

I am beginning to think that there is a physiological reason that I am craving pasta here; perhaps it is missing home?

If one were to equate Portofino with the Hamptons scene, it would be the counterpart to Il Cappuccino. A family run business for 40 years, I have always put it on my culinary calendar, when in Bermuda.

I had a nice discussion with the owner; he had just returned from New York, where he had helped his father renew his Italian travel documents. I shared with him that on a recent trip, his waiters had sung "Happy Birthday" to my cousin Scott on the anniversary of his life-saving bone marrow transplant.

Seated there at Portofino, I had a wave of grief hit me, like a ton of bricks. I began to tear up, thinking of my mom, and quickly took her picture out of my purse. That usually helps- but in this case, it did not.


I left the restaurant at dusk, needing my sunglasses, because the tears kept coming. I pretended to look in shop windows, to avoid being discovered, as I made my way to the taxi stand.  This is where my evening turned. 

I apologized to the cabbie for my emotional state. He told me that- while he could not identify with my having lost my mother, he feared that it would happen to him- all too soon. 

The pain in his voice redirected my attention, as he shared a recent experience of a local doctor telling him, "Your mother is on the way out". 

My feathers stood up; another story of healthcare gone awry. Caregiver to caregiver, and just human being to human being, I told him NOT to give up on his mom! 

In our brief ride to Salt Kettle, I learned what I needed to know. Upon arriving at my destination, he turned the meter off, and I asked him for a pen. 

As chance would have it, my prior hosts' son is the Medical Director of the hospital here; he specializes in Infectious Disease- precisely what this gentleman's mother needed. I also told him about some other resources, including the prospect of a doctor-to-doctor consult from overseas.

By the time I exited the cab, he was getting teary. We both wondered how we had been brought together at a time when I needed him, and he needed me.

It was divine intervention from Marlys. 

When she told me to "spend the rest of my life being happy", she also told me to "go forward, and help people".