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| Art Credit to Barbara Finsness |
After so much heartache and loss, it has been heartening to wake up with the love of my mom in my heart, and the courage to continue onward- just one day at a time. I had not known, whether I was capable.
While in Bermuda, I have not missed watching television (particularly, the news). I have not missed getting 200 catalogs per day in the mail. I have not missed my possessions. I have only missed my loved ones (including the four footed ones).
Having lived on a small island for one month, I have grown to enjoy minimalism, to appreciate the value of re-using objects, and to respect the value of a drop of water. Most importantly, I have thrived in a country where humanity is the most important aspect of life. Sadly, this gets forgotten, back at home.
My last day in Bermuda could have been bittersweet, but I chose to take it in stride, knowing that I will likely return to this island, before my new Bermudian friends can blink! There are places that make us feel simultaneously alive, yet zen; Bermuda is mine.
This morning, Janie called, and was taking her daughter to town to shop for some birthday gifts. They invited me to a spontaneous breakfast at The Spot in Hamilton. The Spot is a small coffee shop, tucked up on a hill past the Hog Penny and Devils' Isle. It has not changed one bit, since I first came here in 1994. We all had breakfast sandwiches, to hearten ourselves.On the way to town, Jane and I chatted with Georgia about the birthday party she was scheduled to attend that afternoon. How fabulous, to be invited to a surprise celebration for a young man, aboard a boat! (No lack of party venues here!)
All attendees were to come in 'pastel' attire. I was enchanted by Georgia asking her mom for specifics, on color options, as we passed by one pastel home, after another. I would have changed my clothes 10 times before leaving for that party, had I been invited- but chances are, I would have picked pink.
After The Spot, we headed to Gibbons and Company. Jane and I perused the new (sorely overpriced) merchandise at the GAP boutique (within), for her impending Alaskan luxury cruise.
Having no need to buy clothes for myself, I picked things out for her to try on, which was just as satisfying... After our brief shop, we separated ways. I had a few errands to run, and was planning to end my stay with an afternoon on the beach.
Per usual, I was ready to return to Salt Kettle during 'the ferry gap'- the midday break, when the ferry does not run. I will never learn, no matter how many weeks I stay! (I still get into the wrong side of the car, too!)
After a quick turn around at Salt Kettle, I headed to Coco Reef for lunch- a resort that is located next to Bermuda College, adjacent to Elbow Beach.
I was surprised at how quiet it was, by the time I arrived. Everyone had descended the cliff, to the beach.
This would be the idyllic place to end my stay. A place where I could be alone with my thoughts... (and the cute little brown birds, that dive bomb you, everywhere you go, here in Bermuda.)
I sat in the sun, overlooking a pristine swimming pool and the turquoise sea beyond. Utterly stuck in the moment, I absorbed every ounce of beauty that I could, like a ravenous Bermuda-loving sponge.
How fortunate, that visitors can come to resorts like this, on the ocean- to experience the food, drinks and ambience- prior to making their decision about where to stay, on their next trip here.
For those like me, who cannot afford to pay $500+ per night, I can have the best of both worlds- by day and by night. You have to delegate your funds, while in Bermuda!Having been afflicted with a severe case of 'pool envy', since I arrived, I found myself staring at Coco Reef's pool.
I photographed it. I paced back and forth, gazing into it, longingly- wondering what the water temperature was. I wondered why nobody else was in it.
And yes, I wondered what would happen if I decided to "pool crash"...
Unethical behavior in the most ethical of places- what had gotten into me?!
After lunch, I retreated to the ladies room, to suit up for the walk to Elbow Public Beach- a much closer walk, if done along the sea.
Somehow, I wound up approaching the desk manager at the hotel- a nice young lady, named China. (I was amused that she identified herself as "China- like the country", because I have a tendency to self-identify as "Daisy- like the flower".)
I politely inquired how much it would cost, for me to get a day pass, entitling me to options of using the pool, umbrellas, chairs, etc.
Even with a meal and drink, it would be out of sight- over $100. It was already about 4pm. How could I rationalize this expense?
We chatted for a moment. I shared with China that I was writing a blog about Bermuda, and wrote down the web address, at her request.
I then inquired (from somewhere within me, that I did not recognize) what the policy was- 'to punish pool crashers'...
This took China off guard. She had not thought about it- much less someone asking her so blatantly about it.
Not only did I want to pool crash. I also did not want to get caught. And if I got caught, I did not want to be humiliated... or, even worse- feel guilty about it.
China contemplated asking her manager's permission, but realized that is was late in the day to charge me for a pass- and that she had the capability to make my day.
Smiling, she said, "Do you need a towel?"
I cannot remember the last time that I enjoyed a swim so much. I sat under the pool fountain, lounged on the steps, and did laps back and forth- all alone. It was pure bliss.
In no time, I would need to get out, however, in order to also share myself with the ocean, one last time.
Descending down the hotel's steps of beach-worn wood, I recalled the days of drinking island cocktails with my friend, Donna, at a 'tiki bar', that used to be on the sand below. It had been obliterated by a nasty hurricane.
As I walked toward Elbow Beach, I let my guard down (again!) and decided to hop into the sea on a 'private' stretch of beach.
In no time, I made the acquaintance of a fun loving couple from Boston, who also suffers from Bermuda fever. We chatted, non-stop, for about 20 minutes and many waves, before we all got out of the ocean, to be prompt for evening plans.
Back at Salt Kettle, I changed for cocktail hour. Suzie, Don, Becky and I sat on the front lawn, enjoying wine and casual conversation about important things, such as injuries from falling coconuts.
Having told Herry (the resident Heron) of my imminent departure, I was shocked to see him fly over the house, and land on the roof- near the garden, where we were all seated for cocktails. He does not typically stray from the back of the property, where he is fed squid on a regular basis.
Suzie knew that I had a soft spot for the heron. She also hates getting the smell of squid all over her hands! She told me that I should feed Herry this last time, and so I did.
With great finesse.
Throwing squid overhand on to the roof, I seemed to lack quality depth perception. Suzie shouted, "Oh my God! You have shish- kebab'd him!", bursting into laughter, as the squid nearly knocked Herry down- his beak allegedly being impaled...
The next try, I undershot- slapping a stinky piece of squid on the side of the house. Suzie was in fits! Herry could not see the morsel, so the squid nugget would remain there- cemented by heat and humidity-making the whole front entry wreak of fish! We laughed!
Needless to say, we (John!) had to retrieve the nugget of squid, that was plastered to the house.
After cocktails, everyone dispersed. Jane was tired. Suzie was tired. I could not decide if I should eat in, or try one more new spot. I opted to get a ride with John, over to Newstead- for a bite of Tapas.
Interestingly, the two restaurants at Newstead are not owned by the hotel; they are both individually owned. Beau Rivage is an upscale French restaurant, boasting a famous chef and high accolades. Situated right at harbor side, it looked very enticing. Yet, I did not feel like having a fancy meal by myself this time. I opted for the Tapas restaurant, situated immediately behind Beau Rivage.
When I walked into Zanzibar, and was the only customer on a Saturday night, I was curious. Although feeling a bit odd, my little voice said, "Do you really want to spend $15 on a taxi, to go somewhere else, right now?!"
I tried to look out at the sunset, but heavy shutters obscured my view. How very unusual, for an island property on the water. Perhaps the waitress had forgotten to open them? I felt very closed in, as if not in Bermuda. And it was my last night...
Not wanting to leave the waitress without any tables, I stayed put and fantasized about what I would do with the restaurant, if it were mine.
Bermudian theme. Lush colors, beautiful paint. Barbara Finsness and Calypso textiles. Mirrors to enlarge the space. Driftwood sculptures. Retro travel posters, and original local artwork. Windows that would open to greet the sun and breezes. Ambient music. A limited, but fabulous, fresh menu. I would not change the pink lanterns, though! They reminded me of sea shells.
As the sun set, I knew I only had a certain amount of time to safely walk back to Salt Kettle, without losing my way, or endangering myself.
The walk back, along Harbour Road at dusk, provided me with a few moments for closure. The sun was down, periwinkle clouds were high, and the tree frogs were all around me. I walked, facing oncoming traffic, and made sure to scale the wall, as headlights approached! Harbour Road Survival skills 101.
Back at the guest house, all was quiet, which made for a bit of melancholy. I hit my pillow, knowing that I still had a few hours left on my beloved island with my new friends.
I was up with the sun on Sunday, maximizing each ounce of time, fueled by French Roast. I finished packing my bags, and was delighted to have farewell visits from both Larry and Kate!
Larry apologized for the lack of time we had to spend, due to his high season schedule. Kate brought me some hair appliances, that I had forgotten at her house. I even got to see Brad- the tour guide, who has had my Talbots jacket since Easter!
At 10:30 am, it was time to depart my island. Hugs, kisses and gracious thanks were given to the three Lowe siblings, who so fervently embody their mother Hazel's legacy!
As we turned onto Harbour Road, headed East, I asked my cab driver, "By any chance, do you have any SOCA?" He popped in Byron Lee, providing me with my preferred exit soundtrack.
Check in was a piece of cake, as usual.
As I approached the Customs Officer, however, I prayed that she would not order my bags to be opened. Having been in Bermuda for a month, I would likely be a prime target! I had a roll of duck tape with me, just in case... (to tape my bag, not gag the Customs Officer).
I was also sporting my Royal wedding fascinator- for a wee bit of distraction. How could someone who wears a gigantic pink flower in their hair be smuggling contraband?
The Customs Officer said, "What was the reason for your stay?" I told her that I had recently lost my mother, and that I had come to Bermuda to heal my heart.
I told her that I had also written a blog about Bermuda, while I was here. She asked me for the name of my blog, and typed it into her computer, on the spot. "I see it, right here! Well, I am going to get reading!"
A flawless dismount for a nearly flawless trip(medical bills, aside)!
As our jet began to roll down the tarmac, I wistfully asked the gentleman seated next to the window, if he would please raise the window shade.
He said, "Oh! You want to get one last glimpse of the island?"
He then proceeded to block my view.
Welcome back to New York!
Until next time, Bermuda...
Smitten as ever,
D.
It's been an enjoyable ride for those of us reading as well as you writing! Welcome back to the States!
ReplyDeleteThank you!!
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