Monday, October 22, 2012

Bermuda Baby

Phone File 2015

I got a wake up call at 10AM that if I could be dressed and ready in two hours I could go to Bermuda for four days. I couldn’t. I was in New York City and I was needed on Eastern Long Island and my car was in the middle of Long Island. There was just no way. Heart broken I declined. Hung up the phone, flopped down in bed with my mind racing and my heart sinking. I moped and whined until the breath of fresh air I used to refer to as a "punk" pushed me to call back and take it anyway. We’ll find a way. And $130 cab ride later we did.

Sitting in the cab hungover and unshowered speeding up the FDR my mind was reeling, filled with excitement and shock. I was calling my catering company to cancel on my jobs for the week and attempting to draw away the hangover written all over my face, doll up my bed head and deodorant up my sleep state. I was still waking up and feeling beyond grateful that I let this “punk” into my life. I had it backwards. I am the punk. He is the calm one, problem solving the situation while I am the runt, whining and moaning of woe is me. Thanks to his generous encouragement and cab fare in just a few hours I would be on the beach in Bermuda.

Phone File 1897
We arrived unscathed to blue waters and pink houses. Our hotel was literally at the waters edge. We walked the resort until we found our building. Orange concrete against the ocean backdrop, chickens skirting around the lawn. Our rooms a bit old fashion beachy feel with wicker furniture and floral duvets. I tossed my poorly packed suitcase on the bed, flung open the door to my terrace grinning from ear to ear to toes to guts. I am here. I am on adventure.

Phone File 1862
I laid on the bed and taking in that I woke up in the city looking at the Hudson running past pigeons to catch a cab and now I was looking out to the blue ocean, chickens chasing each other feet from my room.
Phone File 1921
One hiccup in my hastily thrown together adventure was that I was packed for 60 degrees in NY, not 90 degrees in Bermuda. Luckily there was a bus into town I could take for a few bucks and twenty minutes to try and find some sandals. The first night I walked the resort in the dark finding gems to scout out in the morning and forced myself to sleep.

I slept soundly from the crash of adrenaline and was ready to take on the Island when I woke.  I bought a bus ticket from the front desk and headed to street bus stop. Public transportation in a strange place always feels like a gamble. When the bus or train shows up, even if it's scheduled to, I feel like I've won. It's really here! You really came for me!! Victory for everyone!
The bus was tall, the driver daring, the streets narrow and windy. We'd swerve around the a corner brushing against the shrubbery of someones lawn and somehow squeeze past a pedestrian at the same time. A few of these precarious turns and we were at my stop. Victory again.
Phone File 1852Phone File 1851Phone File 1850Phone File 1849
Being the furthest thing from a fashionable twenty something I was not too ashamed walking the beach town in old black loafers, jeans and a sweater in 90 degree weather like a goon. To ease my already relaxed attitude I found the fashion here (albeit mens fashion) wasn't too far off from the fab look I was rocking. High socks and shoes.
Phone File 1856
Like everywhere.
Phone File 1861
So I didn’t feel so weird in my work shoes and jeans after all, but it was sweltering so the hunt for flip flops continued until I found some bright yellow ones for ten Bermudian bucks. When in Rome.

Phone File 1956
My phone plan is meager and doesn't work internationally so I didn't want to stray from the hotel for too long, but I needed to find food and thinking this was my only day in town I wanted to explore.
Hungry and hot I came upon a shop for breakfast of blueberry smoothie and bran muffin. It was all organic fruit, no added sugars or dairy and the people were super friendly.

Phone File 1859
I quickly realized how expensive this place was and remembered the bus stops running around dusk so I went to main road to watch and wait for the bus. I made the mistake (that I invariably always make) and didn't pay attention to the ride out or where I got off the bus so I had to stalk the buses as they zoomed by and eventually caught one at a stop and hopped on. I had to switch at a stop and got on again to head to the hotel. There was eclectic crowd at the bus station that leaked onto my same bus and I found myself staring. I couldn't help wonder why so many different people were there and mostly how the heck they afforded it. 
This was my first full day here and I was feeling good. I went to the restaurant hotel for dinner and wound up chatting a gentleman next me who was there by himself to golf. I've come to really enjoy eating by myself. People watching and occasionally meeting someone else on their own and exchanging small talk of what we're doing there.

Phone File 2012

That night I walked around the resort complex in the dark. Almost lonely, but mostly numb from the chaos of the day before. It’s tough to keep my head up sometimes. To get up sometimes. Catering at twelve dollars an hour with 40k+ in loans in my future weighs down my momentum, but I was financially stunted. It has to be done. Some bricks on your cape, superman. Fear is a great motivator. Shame might be a better one for me. The summer of funemployment behind me I was still struggling feel like a productive member of society.
The next few days I walked around exploring the woods and beach of this slender island
Phone File 2007
Phone File 1997Phone File 1987
Walking across bridges way too narrow for pedestrians
Phone File 1970
Finding nature paths
Phone File 1961Phone File 1954
Water outlets
Phone File 1929Phone File 1935
and lizards
Phone File 1916Phone File 1914
Putting my feet in babling brooks
Phone File 1942Phone File 1953
and resisting temptation to jump off of things
Phone File 1940
The beautiful water and sky keeps my attention for a few hours, but my heart is still homesick for Ireland. At least I am scribbling this on the stoops of a cave in Bermuda and not in the room of my parents house. It is hard to be so dependent, but sure it is where I am. It ain’t so bad.
Phone File 1898
But so about this cave
Phone File 1873

No comments:

Post a Comment