My First Bermuda Love

I have always believed in love at first sight.  And intuition.  I would like to say that intuition never leads you astray, but I have to admit that isn't always the case.  But it certainly acts as a compass that takes you exactly where you need to be, for all the good and bad that may be on that path.

In 2008 I stepped off a plane at the L.F. Wade International Airport in Bermuda, a day late for my vacation thanks to the earliest Atlantic hurricane on record (which I refused to take as a sign to steer clear of this so called Devil's Isle).  The heat and humidity lit up a smile on my face and the sweet smell of oleander wafted through my senses, giving me an overwhelming sensory cue that it was vacation time, time to relax.  But there was one more thing that hit me, before I had taken my second step on the ground between the plane and the terminal (in Bermuda you still walk down stairs into open air and walk into the terminal to go through customs).  My gut kicked in and a little voice deep inside me said "This is home."  My conscious quickly dismissed this irrational instinct and I took my third step towards the terminal and forgot about it...for a while anyway.

As the car drove from the airport to my accommodations, I took in the heavy greenery, the windy roads, but it was a stunning image of a large black volcanic rock jutting out of the mesmerizing blue ocean that burned into my brain as my first impression of Bermuda.  I could not wait to stick my toes in that water.  On the first morning, I started walking and some helpful local workers directed me to the nearest beach, a little spot called Elbow Beach.  It was love at first sight.  I went back every day, shocked that such a beautiful beach would be so deserted in mid July.  As a local, I know now that most tourists flock to the more famous beaches, preferring to lay side by side in with the other hotel guests at Horseshoe Bay.  And 2 days after a hurricane, the locals were probably waiting for the waves to go down...or they were all at work and couldn't come out to play.  That is a very real problem when one moves to Bermuda after all.  I had the whole beautiful place to myself, almost every day.  Just my footprints on the sand.  No voices to mar the sound of the waves rushing onto the shore.  Just me and a few birds, and the still quiet little voice that i had heard at the airport...silent only because she was gathering peace, tranquility, and memories to use as evidence against logic later on.  One day I did come across other people, and asked if they would take a picture of me on my favorite rock on this rock.  I have always had a weird fascination with rocks, the little ones are unique as snowflakes if you look closely enough, and the big ones are just cool -- perhaps a second career in geology would have been a good idea.  It wasn't the stunning one I mentioned earlier, but it was unique, hardy, and seems to me to be shaped a little like a crown.

My Bermuda vacation 2008

After the vacation when I went back to Canada, the little voice started wearing away at the bigger voices of logic, practicality, and conscious rational thought.  Knowing how to stage a battle, the little voice kept the arguments very simple.  It waited until the end of a good day, and while logic, practicality, and rationality were patting themselves on the back for a solid day of hard work or a weekend of successful skydiving, the little voice dropped down on them like a tiny cannonball and said "meh, that was alright."  And then the little voice hit play on the little memory soundbite of tree frogs singing as the sun set over a thick growth of trees.  I felt an unmistakable stirring -- longing.  The memory of that sound made me long for Bermuda.  And then the little voice hit play on the sound of the waves on those mornings on Elbow Beach and the heart and soul joined in as allies -- I realized I had fallen in love.  One cannot deny the heart, game over, decision made, I was just going to have to move to Bermuda.  Logic, and a few friends, put up a good fight with a few thoughts like "But it's so expensive,"  "You don't even know if you can find a job."  But the little voice just looked around and said "I think I need to start downsizing my possessions for when I move."  And so in September I started lurking online for job postings while dropping of carloads of things at Goodwill.  In January, on my second application, I was offered a job.  Nearly 5 years later, I am thankful for the little voice, as living in Bermuda has given me financial reward, rest, a wonderful experience, and the gift of many new lifelong friends.  While it will be hard to leave Bermuda next year, the little voice spoke to me loud and clear last May, and logic, practicality, and rationality are as nervous about the lack of a plan as ever...but they are learning to trust the little voice to guide the way.

Elbow Beach

Elbow Beach has been a focal point of my time here.  Every Christmas Day takes me to Elbow Beach.  I use Elbow Beach as my target for a walk or run, treating myself to a few minutes looking out over the shore before heading back.  If I make it to the beach to lay about in the sun, it's usually Elbow Beach I head to.  The dive shop is where I did my scuba dive.  I think I will carry the sound of those waves in my mind forever.  I will always love Elbow Beach, the little patch of Bermuda that called me back, and brought me to where I needed to be.

Tranquil, peaceful, beautiful...my first Bermuda love