59 hours and a Plan -- Bright Lights Big City

So I made it out of Central Park as the sun set on Day 1 in New York, and I consulted my map and decided I could walk back to the hotel from Central Park.  The closer I got to Times Square, the more Christmas decorations I realized I was seeing.  This was the real reason I had to get to New York at this particular time -- the Museums and sights were on my to do list, but after seeing Boston one December and New York last New Year's Eve, I am convinced that nowhere looks more festive than the Eastern US at Christmas.

Perhaps it was just because the light was low enough when I got there, but Radio City Hall was where I saw my first Christmas lights, although I just now realized I should have stuck around the park a little longer to see if any of it lit up.

First lights at Twilight

After that, it seemed like there were lights and decorations every couple of paces outside of every office building.  So this blog will be a bit of a photo blog -- and I know at least one fan (OK, coworker) is looking forward to NYC Christmas decoration photos, so here they are.  There were giant ornaments....

sparkly...we know i love sparkly things

Giant string of lights...

I thought these were really cool

Giant reindeer....

OK, I was so tired AND excited that I can't even level the camera by this point

And then I knew I could take my tired little feet another 10 blocks south to Macy's...because the Macy's window displays at Christmas are almost worth the trip on their own.  So, I paddled along on in my little Sketcher "Go Walk" shoes, guaranteed by the sales clerk to be the safest bet for putting on miles without blisters when I went to NYC last year.  I had not eaten yet, being so happy to be in North America again that I was saving my appetite for a chain restaurant or fabulous hole in the wall place that I could feast in, but I hadn't seen any yet.  That meant I was not able to resist the temptation of Crumbs Cupcake shop when I found it.  Sadly they did not have my favorite, Cotton Candy flavored cupcakes, and the cookie dough flavor did not compare.  I finally settled on the Heartland Grill for some good old American pub food when I was within sight of Macy's.

Macy's storefront

Macy's is decorated inside and out.

The Believe-O-Meter amidst the boughs of holly

There is a whole Santaland area set up, and I think one of the elves was schmoozing me.  Should have gotten a picture of THAT.

Macy's Santaland Entry -- too late at night for all the kiddies, or too early in the season

But the best displays are their window displays.  As you approach the windows you are greeted with the sound of music.  Not traditional holiday sounds, but a unique musical score that belongs in a fantasy winter wonderland movie.  The windows are lit of up with an LED background, and animated with moving characters...fairies (or possibly sugarplums), animals, and a little boy who lay asleep but in his dreams moves about the wonderland in each window.

Window 1 -- a young boy asleep -- notice the sugarplum and wonderland surrounding his slumber

And the displays are interactive -- if you stand at certain places, you can choreograph the window, the snowfall and background tailored to your body movements.

Window 2 -- Wonderland and its creatures beckon to the sleeping boy

Window 3 -- he delights to awaken into this winter wonderland

Window 4 -- he frolicks and makes snow angels beneath bears, bunnies, squirrels and fairies

Window 5 -- lessons from the sugarplums perhaps?

At Window 6 he bids farewell to brightly falling snow

It's an amazing backdrop.  And NYC celebrated it by blockading the nearby street and setting up tables so that people can meet, visit, and sip warm beverages with Macy's as their festive backdrop.  Macy's seems to love Christmas just as much as the rest of us.

From there I made my way back north.  There was not very much on my shopping list for this trip.  A Christmas ornament had been requested by Alison, and Christmas ornaments were all that I wanted to pick for family as well, so it was off to the evening markets at Bryant Park.  They were also having their Christmas Tree lighting and skating rink set up for the season.

Bryant Park Christmas tree, rink, and sight of the night market

Mission accomplished, I headed back to my hotel.  After a long but happy 10 hours of hiking around NYC, I was very happy to get back to my little hotel.  Initially I was a little sad that it was so small.  But when I walked back to its warm little Christmas wreath sign, and was handed a steaming cup of hot chocolate on my arrival, I smiled all the way to my little shoebox, turned up the central heat (a luxury for us Bermuda dwellers who live in stone homes without central heat) and decided it was the coziest, snuggiest (new word), and most centralized shoebox in the city...that hot chocolate went straight to my little travelling heart and lulled me into the best sleep I had had in weeks.  Hotel Mela was actually a nice little place.

Hotel Mela

59 Hours and a Plan -- Central Park

2:30 pm. 5.5 hours into the 59 hour vacation (including the time change).  Guggenheim has been checked off the list, and now Central Park (which was on the wish list but not the mental itinerary) has appeared immediately next to the Guggenheim, which had I done any research or planning I would have already known about...but then the surprise wouldn't have been so enjoyable!

I had a few reservations about roaming into Central Park alone just a couple of hours before sunset.  All I know about Central Park is that it looks huge on the map, and when I was growing up it had an international reputation as a high crime area.  So I did ask at the desk at the Guggenheim if it was safe in this part of the park.  They looked at me like I was insane and said, "Of course, I walk through it to and from work every day."  It didn't take long to realize that Central Park, like the rest of Manhattan, looks and feels very safe.

The park is pretty big  -- 840 acres (which is 3.4 km2).  The park is traversed with paved pathways in many directions, has a larger "street" path reserved for cyclists, horses, and park vehicles, and is far more beautiful than I expected.  I entered the park near the reservoir, named the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir.  Decommissioned in 1993, it used to draw from an aqueduct and supply water to Manhattan.  It was named after Jackie O since it was in view of her 5th Avenue apartment window and she used to frequent the area.

Looking towards the Western art of the park across Jackie O Reservoir

The next thing I noticed is that Central Park is filled with squirrels.  These are big squirrels compared to Canadian squirrels.  Tan squirrels.  Black Squirrels.  Very active but super chubby park squirrels.  I thought they were awesome!

Central Park Squirrel

When I looked up from my squirrel photography, I saw a large marker, and thinking it was a war memorial, made my way over.  I was way off.  This is called Cleopatra's Needle.  It is a genuine Egyptian monument, a gift from the Egyptian Government in 1881.  London and Paris also have one.  Cleopatra's needle is an inaccurate term, as the monument actually predates her by a millennium and was created during the reign of Tutmoses III in 1450 BC at Heliopolis.  The New York weather and pollution are not as kind to the monument as Egypt's climate...Egypt's chief archaeologist apparently hinted at taking it back in 2010.

"Cleopatra's Needle"

A little further down the path I came across a peaceful pond, the Turtle Pond, complete with ducks, duck feeders, and duck watchers.  I didn't see any turtles...but they are probably napping in the warmer mud.  The amphitheatre, Delacorte Theatre,  across from it does many summer performances, but was empty and silent on this afternoon.  Fine by me, I was enjoying the quiet of the park -- well, mostly quiet.  Someone apparently decided they could make a buck by marketing a stereo system for pedal bikes -- so rather than the rider using an ipod and listening to their music via headphones, they now pedal past with booming music emanating from the handlebars.  I have gotten old enough to think this is a terrible idea.  I prefer the sound of the ducks.

Across from the Delacorte Theatre, just a guy and his ducks enjoying the day at Turtle Pond

A few feet past the pond I stumbled upon Belvedere Castle.  Belvedere Castle is a cute little castle, designed in 1865 just to be a Victorian style novelty for the tourists.  It has 2 outdoor decks overlooking Turtle Pond and Delacorte Theatre, and the volunteer Conservation staff are usually around to help out with maps and information about the park.  While I was up there I met a lovely couple in their 60's who were touring New York for the wife's birthday.  They asked me to take a few photos and were tickled pink with them.  And they took the only photo of my on my New York trip (other than one other selfie).

Belvedere Castle

Me in Central Park on the balcony at Belvedere Castle

From Belvedere Castle I decided I wanted to see the area called Strawberry Fields.  Strawberry Fields is a teardrop shaped section of the park located between 71st and 74th Street on the West End of the Central Park, adjacent to the Dakota apartments where John Lennon lived and where he was assassinated on December 8, 1980 while walking home.  To get there, I walked through a pretty wooded area with many paths going helter skelter, called the Brambles.

Looking at Downtown across "The Lake" (which is actually in Uptown)

I took a few wrong turns trying to get on the correct side of the Lake so that I would get to Strawberry Fields, but it was a pretty area with a lot more squirrels and a few little bridges with gorgeous views.  In Strawberry Fields I found the Lennon Memorial, a flat Italian donated tile design in the pavement commemorating John Lennon and his message in the song Imagine.  There were crowds of people waiting to photograph themselves in this area -- all of them smiling, which spoke to me of the effect a great musician with an honest and kind hearted message of peace can have across generations and ethnicity's.

The John Lennon Memorial

A quick glance at the map said that I was almost through Central Park and could make it out before dark, although I was no longer too worried about that.  I made my way to the boat house, which has been converted into a restaurant, and saw the famous fountain, passed a statue of Balto (couldn't bear to stay too long -- brought back too many memories of Jaycena as a little girl watching Balto over and over and over), and caught some beautiful images as the light faded near the Promenade.

What is left of fall's colors as dusk and winter approach

What really struck me about Central Park was that I was worried about it being a dark and dodgy place is such a big city -- it is anything but, and really the people I saw were either exercising, relaxing, or just staring at its scenes with absolute reverence.  I imagine if you grew up in NYC where there are so many people and a disconnect from nature, that Central Park is a place for solitude and soul searching.  It was, even for this guest.

A fellow photographer catching reflections

It turns out that the area called "The Mall" has no mall, but it is a wide walking path with vendors along it.  The Dairy is no longer a dairy but the visitor center.  And the skating rink which I expected to still look as it did in the 1980's movie "Splash" has been modernized and was a little less quaint than I expected.  But overall Central Park was a gem.  I was stunned at how gorgeous this city park really is.

Sun setting on Central Park's lake

59 Hours and a Plan

Rock Fever.  The term used in Bermuda to describe the condition when one has not left the island in too long.  Symptoms include irritability and an inability to recall all that is good about Bermuda.  Couple that with exhaustion, the all too common ex-pat condition, due in part in my case to the failure of human resources to locate a replacement employee for the one who disappeared, or shall I say repatriated to their old life sooner than expected 4 months ago.  I realized that I had both conditions...plus, it was my turn for a holiday at work.  So I put together a short notice short plan of my own.

First, I booked the week off...actually, I only booked 3 days off, the other ones were due to me, stockpiled from recent hours of staying late and missing holidays while we were short.  Nonetheless, I had 8 days at my disposal.  Knowing that I did not want to miss the St. George's Walk and the Ascot's dinner, and genuinely needed several days of hard core relaxing and forced laziness (possibly even descending into slothfulness), I was able to earmark part of 3 days for a mini vacation.  This was happy news for the cats, who would be trying out a new pet sitting service, Passion Paw Paws and disapprove of all absences from the house.  Vacation is a scornful topic with the cats, and pulling out a suitcase will illicit a sit in -- on top of the suitcase -- for days on end.  So I booked a short trip to New York City.  I would have 59 hours off the rock, wheel up to wheels down on the way in and out.  That doesn't sound like much time, but I once toured my brother Jerry through the best sites of Canmore, Banff, the Columbia Icefields, and all of Jasper in 48 hours.  He will probably still twitch and insist that I am more mountain goat than human in order to get him through it...but I have a knack for squeezing a remarkable amount of stuff into small spaces of time...it's a gift.

So last Tuesday morning I called a taxi, gave each kitty a cuddle goodbye, and headed to Bermuda's LF Wade International Airport.  Equipped with a new download on my Kindle called Flight Plan by Barbara Kingsolver (about climate change of course), a large coffee, and a croissant, I settled in near the gate anxious to start my vacation race.  It briefly dawned on me that I have never been to New York City alone, and maybe the idea of going to NYC to take night photographs alone was a little silly for a farm girl from Saskatchewan.  I banished the thought and decided I would wing it and keep my eyes open and be fine.

The flight to NYC is short, only 2.5 hours, and is usually a relatively reasonable fare as far as airfare goes.  We boarded and departed on time, landing about 20 minutes early in NYC -- yes!  That feeling of elation was quickly squashed when luggage for our flight failed to materialize for another 30 minutes.  When it did, my suitcase also came out squashed.  Sigh.  But I booked it outside to the taxi stand, and alas, the last taxi was taken by the person in line ahead of me.  So I began the wait for a taxi.  It wasn't too long, so I thought we were back on track, but no, there was construction and the drive to Manhattan was in danger of being as long as the flight.  As the precious minutes of my vacation ticked by, I tried to enjoy the slow turn of the scenery around me.  Finally, we picked up speed and were within range of Manhattan.  Somewhere in the middle of Manhattan, my cab pulled over and said he didn't want to fight traffic to get to my hotel, and was going for lunch, and waved a finger in no particular direction and said the hotel is a short walk while tossing my broken luggage on the shores of the foreign curb on some unfamiliar New York City Street.  Hold on, I said, I don't know where we are or where the hotel even is.  With an annoyed glance he pointed behind him again and said "Walk that way, it's down there somewhere."  Fortunately the fare from airport to Manhattan is set at $55.  I was not impressed with this service, so pulled out $60, which started him hollering right off the bat.  "The toll is $7.50, you have to pay the toll fare."  OK, so I pulled out $65 and got him raging "Lady that doesn't include a tip."  I squashed my meek country inside girl and stood my ground "If you can't be bothered to take me to my hotel you get no tip.  I don't even know where I am."  Despite this curbside show, some desperate Manhattanites tried to climb into the cab, but he kicked them out because he was still intent on lunch...making me feel not so bad about the no tip, because clearly he wasn't desperate for a fare or money.  In Bermuda we tip not only waiters and waitresses, but also grocery store baggers, gas jockeys, and of course cabbies.  That is about the second time in my life I have intentionally not tipped someone, but after all of that it was warranted.  So, I wandered down the street, thinking that at least tonight I would be able to hunker down in my gorgeous hotel room, maybe order up a glass of wine and have a nice hot bath.  In the end, the hotel was only a block and a half away, and I did find it, checked in quickly, and opened the room door into the smallest hotel room I have ever seen.  A shoebox, I thought, I have paid a small fortune for a shoebox.  Well, I thought, best make the best of it, and set my luggage down and opened the curtains to check out the view....of the brick wall and black metal staircase.  No worries, I thought, until I walked into the bathroom and saw that it was a teeny tiny room with a shower stall and no bath.  Of course.  I hurried downstairs to ask to have my room changed, but alas the hotel was fully booked and they would not or could not move me.  3 hours into my 59 hour vacation, there was nothing left to do but put on a smiley face and tackle the city for all I was worth, because at this rate I was never coming back.

And that's when it all turned around.  The concierge provided me with a coffee and a map to start my attack, and the general orientation that if I turned right and walked 6 blocks I would hit Grand Central Station, and from there I could catch a 6 train to the first item to check off my list, the Guggenheim Museum.  I did not know a lot about the Guggenheim initially, but once you realize what the building looks like, you will probably recall seeing it in movies -- Bye Bye Birdie for the classics fans, Men In Back for the more modern, and my personal favorite, in Mr. Popper's Penguins when the penguins slide down the spiral ramps inside and create a ruckus.

Inside the Guggenheim...just add penguins and wait for the fun to start

I got to Grand Central Station, bought myself a Metro Pass, and took the escalator to the 6 train...heading to the Bronx.  The Bronx?  Ooooh, I hope the museum is before that.  It was.  I hopped off the subway at Lexington Ave and 86th Street, and walked to 5th Avenue and there it was, nestled in across from Central Park.

The Guggenheim

The museum architecture was more iconic for me than most of the art inside of it -- I guess the most logical to way to look at it is that my analytical science brain looks at modern art, all its jumbles of scribbles or blatant words on canvas, and sees in great detail that they are jumbles of scribbles or blatant words on canvas.  Some are in a pleasing array of colors or layout, but I can never fathom the people standing staring at these pieces trying to divine the deeper purpose.  I dunno. Scribbly lines can be pretty, but they don't speak to me.  And so I perused the Guggenheim collection in 45 minutes, and took more photos of the museum itself than it's displays.  The one exception was this piece below.  Title -- Impenetrable, by Mona Hatoum.  I stopped and stared, it's hazy form reminding me of "The Matrix" or something, and then upon closer inspection seeing that it was barbed wire suspended from he ceiling by fishing line.  The view is different from every angle, giving quasi geometrical illusions, a mixture of a very hard element in a soft and fluid form.  OK, so I found something I liked on display.  And all the scribble fans probably wondered what on earth I was staring at the pile of wire for.  To each their own I guess.

Impentetrable at the Guggenheim

The view changes as you move around it

The skylight in the building was fascinating.  When the Guggenheim was built in 1959, the architecture was initially reviled by some, but time has proven that its architect was quite a visionary.  Although the building is smaller than I expected in real life, it is still very pretty more than half a century later.  The real reason I wanted to see the Guggenheim, however, was to see if the story of its architect was told in the museum.  It is not.  The story on display at the Guggenheim is simply that of the Guggenheim's collection, so I will just pass on the interesting story I learned watching "Mysteries of the Museum" one day.  The Guggenheim Architect, Frank Lloyd Wright, was at the center of a few scandals in his day.  Going through a mid-life crisis in his late 30's in 1903, the married Wright began an affair with the wife of one of his clients.  By 1909 they abandoned their spouses and lived in exile in Europe for a while, until the the lover was granted a divorce by her husband in 1911.  They returned to America and he built an amazing property called Taliesin in Wisconsin.  While Lloyd was at work in Chicago in 1914, a servant from Barbados locked the lover, her children, and some house guests inside Taliesin and lit fire to the house, standing at the doorway and hacking them to death with an ax if they chose to try to escape the fire.  Poor Wright managed to lose this love, divorce twice more, and be widowed before the end of his life.  He also rebuilt Taliesin and named it Taliesin II...which was destroyed by another fire in 1924.  So who knows what inspired the topsy turvy Guggenheim, but I think the building came from the design of a tortured soul.

Skylight in the center of the Guggenheim

The Skylight from another angle

I exited the Guggenheim at 2:30, 4.5 hours into the journey, and cast my eyes to the level of the sun in the sky, and decided to push all the TV crime dramas and murder stories to the back of my mind and get as far into Central Park as I could while still getting out by daylight.

But that is a story for another day...to be continued...tomorrow of course.

The Christmas Boat Parade

The Christmas Boat Parade floated by this past Saturday evening.  This is one of Bermuda's best loved parades, taking place every second December, when the boats are decorated and sail through the harbor in glowing Christmas splendor.  The boat parade is a really neat concept, with people lining up along front street to get a good view of the harbour and the boats as they go by.  There are also some great lookouts available across from town along Harbour Road...or if you happen to have a boat that isn't entered you can anchor in the thick of it and take in the show.  The weather was gorgeous, a perfect night for a parade on the water.

The past 2 winners of the Christmas Boat parade were a Star Wars theme and a Michael Jackson theme.  So as you can imagine, the boats are not decorated solely along the Christmas theme.  There are prize categories for Best Overall, Best for type of boat, for type of sponsor, and many other categories including Best Community Message, Most Fun to Be Aboard, Best Music, Best Crew Costumes, and...Most Confusing Entry.  That last bit explains a lot, like for example why in 2009 one boat proudly paraded by with a Happy Valentines Banner glowing in the night.

It is generally presumed that it is the most fun to be on board one of the floats, but it is definitely easier to see everything from a stationary spot.  My confession for this blog is that I was unable to attend the boat parade due to a prior commitment -- Christmas dinner with "The Scots at Ascots," a seasonal gathering with some very good friends, most but not all are Scottish, all are wonderful friends, and so I let the boat parade slide to spend an enjoyable evening with great food and better company in a seasonal celebration with lots of Scottish accents.  See this link if you don't know what that sounds like (yes it's the elevator skit). http://www.youtube.com/attribution_link?a=tRhnNS5bIa7EUwKQ-gCcOg&u=%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DMNuFcIRlwdc%26feature%3Dshare

However, I could not let the boat parade pass without commentary, so will introduce the blog guest photographer, Mr., er, well, the fabulous travelling Phil Gee, who consented to my thieving of his photos from his facebook page, no doubt while having a pint on his NYC vacation.  Despite living in Bermuda for over a decade, the last place one should ever look for Phil is on the island.  Anyway, in addition to having a rather astounding camera lens, Phil also has a pretty good eye so hope that you enjoy his pictures of the 2013 Boat Parade (I assure you they are better than mine would have been).

The fireworks finale over the boat parade with Hamilton in the background

A Bermuda Pink Bus

My personal favorite -- a business idea for cage diving...but i see "Jaws"

And the winner for best overall at the Christmas parade!

So the winning entry is a casino theme reminiscent of Las Vegas.  To those not versed in the boat parade, a Christmas theme has not won any of the Christmas boat parades that I have seen.  The story behind this boat is that gambling is illegal in Bermuda.  When cruise ships come to Bermuda -- they must close their casino's while docked in Bermuda or in her waters -- even the insulated passengers cannot gamble while on Bermuda's turf.  The idea of opening up gambling as a tourist attractant has long been a contentious issue in Bermuda, strongly opposed by many community orientated groups and churches, as well as many politicians.  Yet, the Corporation of Hamilton has leased its waterfront property for 212 or so years to a developer with a large casino included in the plans -- to be fair the government is challenging the authority of the city and a legal dispute for control of the waterfront is underway as I type.  But the topic of declining tourism and economy keeps bringing the issue to the forefront, and a government has announced that a referendum on the issue will be announced.  Yes, I did mean to say they announced that it would be announced, because that's how politics goes down here.  We will see where that leads, but whether it was for support of the idea, just the flashy lights, or appreciation of the social commentary through boat art, the floating casino won the prize for 2013.  A sign of things to come I suspect.  Thanks again P. Gee for the shots!

So it looks like I missed a good show, although I was part of another decent one down at Ascots.  Thanks to Angelo and the staff for a great meal, and keeping us well looked after until the wee wee hours of the morning.  I wouldn't have missed throwing on the sparkle dress to consort with my kilted and tartan clad friends for all the glitzy boats in the world.  I wanted to upload a few phone snapshots, but it appears as there are some winter winds rolling in -- nothing severe, but enough to knock out all the cable channels at the present, and since my internet is through the cable provider my ability to upload anything more than text is also gone.  Nope, cannot publish either, this may have to wait til tomorrow.  Thanks for a nice last Christmas Dinner with Scots guys :)

St. George's Christmas Walk

So many times I hear people say "Christmas is for the children."  And while it is true that it is the children who eagerly await Christmas morning and remember that day as the sentinel event of the year, Christmas takes on a much longer and more engaged process for the adults.

When I think back to my happiest Christmas mornings, I have shifted from remembering my own "Pac Man" themed year (yup have both dated myself and reconfirmed my nerd status) and requests for Loretta Lynn records (oddly I liked Country and Western music as a young child), and have finally forgiven my sister for the year she woke up early and opened all of the presents under the tree just to make sure I didn't get anything she wanted.  (I swore to my 4 year old self to always sleep near the tree after that.)  Nowadays I remember the excitement of Christmas morning through my niece and nephew's best years -- the year Jordan found a hamster cage and supplies from Santa and looked up in wide eyed horror as he realized that Santa must have forgotten the hamster (his mother quickly slipped the hamster from her hand in her housecoat pocket and pretended to pull him out of the Christmas stocking saying "Oh you missed something at the bottom of your stocking.")  Relief and joy overtook him, and while that lovable little rodent would keep him awake scurrying in his cage at night for the next several years, the "Christmas of the Mouse" is one of my favorites.  When Justyne was about 3 years old the only thing she wanted for Christmas was a silly wall plaque from Canadian tire that you could push a button on and the fake mounted fish would sing carols.  We had to listen to it all day.  Kristyne spent the whole Christmas in a doll box, the box being the only thing of interest as a one year old.  Janelle and Shantelle were captivated with Disney Princesses, and then of course our Jaycena who seemed to have been born loving horses.  Uncle Jerry got her a rocking horse her 2nd Christmas and she rode that stationary horse half way around the world in her Grandma's kitchen that year.  Through the Lego, the Harry Potter, and all the trends, there was always horses.  What I wouldn't do for another Christmas like that.

Pretty Christmas displays everywhere

But coming back to the present and the original point, as an adult the Christmas season is much more of an endurance event.  Christmas advertising and decorations begin appearing in November.  The adults need to be proactive in their shopping to get the hot items while in stock, and so the stores begin to light up early.  While many despise the commercial aspect of Christmas, I love the big Christmas displays and since stores and corporations are in the position to supply them, it is all OK by me. Christmas cards should be mailed out 3-5 weeks early from Bermuda, as who knows where life and the various postal services will take them before their final destination.  Christmas cards became a new habit for me when I moved here, knowing that I would not get to see each person to say Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.  Addressing and wrting notes in all of those cards is a solution to that little bit of loss that tugs at my heart when old friends and family are so far away at Christmas and New Year's.  Christmas parties and special events are usually weeks ahead of the main event so that the week of Christmas can be reserved for close gatherings of friends and family.  And so, I find that my Christmas season began November 30 with the Caledonia Ball, and is likely to carry on steadily until the New Year.  Friday night was the annual St. George's Christmas Walk.

Scottish Pipe Band playing in King's Square at the Annual St. George's Christmas Walk

This fantastic Christmas event is put on every year by the Bermuda National Trust, with the support of local vendors and residents.  St. George's has some of the oldest buildings on the island, and every Christmas they open their doors for a festive evening to explore the interiors of the homes and businesses in the area.  Most places offer a cider or mulled wine plus some snacks to the guests that go through, so you can leisurely wander the town with a warm cup if the evening is crisp.  Burrows and Lightbourne, a local liquor shop, was handing out samples of desert themed vodka's with names like "Fluffed Marshmallow," "Whipping Creme" "Cake" and "Caramel."  This last Friday was a gorgeous evening, but we still accepted the mulled wine and cider as much out of habit as warmth.  I discovered that there are many businesses I have been unaware of near the waterfront on the western edge of town including a glass artist who makes beautiful grey glassware, a high end jewellery shop, and a surprisingly reasonably priced hair salon.  I walked past "The Carriage House" and mentally added it to my list of places to dine before leaving the island.  A couple of old homes have been converted into Bed and Breakfast's -- Bedford Cottage for example is a small but beautiful accommodation, perfect for 2, with 2 patios and and outdoor fire pit.  Renting for $150 a night, I was tempted to make a booking just to have friends over for a night by the fire this winter.  The Freemason Hall was open and giving out information, as was historic Tucker House, a standing museum of life in the early colonization of Bermuda.

The Cycle Livery had this relic on display for viewing pleasure

People make up a big part of this pleasant night -- traffic was backed up from the airport to the Town of St. George's (a pretty big traffic jam by Bermuda standards) as everyone came out so participate in the walk.  Many little gifts were purchased, and many familiar faces were seen.  Marty and Cherie, who had flown in from Boston for the weekend, another Cherie from work, Phil, Hannah, Liz, Sheneh to name a few.  The ever busy Scottish pipe band performed in the King's Square in town, as did many local dance groups and caroller's.

Looking back at the town near the end of the night from the Freemason Hall

The Christmas walk is both a lovely way to spend a Friday night in Bermuda, a good opportunity to explore St. George's and history, and a night not to be missed in the Bermuda Christmas season.  The National Trust provides this fantastic free Christmas event every year for one night only.  If you missed it this year -- mark your calendar for next year, you won't regret it.

Out Like a Lamb

It is December -- after many terrible disasters in other places the past several years, Bermuda bid farewell to the 2013 Hurricane Season with no more than a silent whisper of gratitude for an almost storm free year.  It feels almost shameful to mark a safe year of good fortune when the Philippines was recently devastated by Typhoon Haiyan, and last year Hurricane Sandy passed us by and battered New York and the Eastern Coast of North America.  It is like feeling slightly guilty, as though the lack storms here allowed nature to conserve energy and unleash powerful beasts elsewhere.

But hurricanes (or typhoons are they are called on the other side of the globe) are a fact of life for many coastlines, including Bermuda.  Officially hurricane season in the North Atlantic is June 1 to November 30 of each year...the peak months of tourist season.  During those six months, a storm can materialize at any time, and so it is always a good idea to have preparations in place -- such as keeping fresh water and canned goods in stock at home in the event of power outages, and landowners should be diligent about keeping trees near the powerlines trimmed to reduce outages.  Most of the time, one can watch the systems online and far in advance form off the northwest tip of Africa and wind their way towards North America via the Caribbean and Bermuda before they cool off and lose their steam as they work their way north to Canada.  Good old Canada...its weather kills off large insects and hurricanes.  But sometimes they can literally pop up overnight.  Keeping an eye on weather systems like "Storm Pulse" or the National Hurricane Center becomes a bit of a habit, and a bit of a sport using them to as guides as to whether you REALLY should run out and get that fresh water and canned food you know you are supposed to have.  Plus flashlight batteries and loads of candles.  Tourists need not worry, in the six month season the island will only contend with a handful of minor storms, each lasting only a day or two.  The odds of one ruining your entire vacation are pretty slim.  You might need to stay inside and dry for one day, possibly two, but the biggest glitch the tourist will likely face is airport delays -- arriving or departing a day late.

The south shore churning before a storm

The geology of Bermuda keeps it somewhat insulated against hurricanes.  To start with...we are a pretty small target to hit directly.  But beyond random luck, Bermuda is surrounded by an extensive reef system which moderates the storm surge and height of the waves that actually hit Bermuda.  When the winds hit the island, the construction practicality of using limestone and concrete for homes rather than wood leaves the homes more resilient in their stand against the winds than in many other places.  That said, I imagine a direct hit by Sandy or anything the size of Haiyan would be much worse than anything Bermuda has yet seen.  It seems as though worldwide the size of storms and level of environmental disasters are increasing.  I twitch every time someone says they don't believe in global warming.

In my hometown in Saskatchewan, we worry about blizzards and tornadoes.  So I had to do a little learning about hurricanes when I got here.  The storm classifications are as follows -- Tropical Depression which has no defined eye and sustained maximum winds of less than 39 mph, Tropical Storm which has sustained winds of 39-74 mph, and finally a Hurricane (or Typhoon) which has a defined eye of the storm and sustained winds of greater than 74 mph.  If I have this correct, the storms turn counterclockwise here due to the Coriolis effect, and the "back end" of the hurricane actually has stronger winds, and so it can make a big difference whether the storm passes to the east or west of us.

There are several hurricanes that are well remembered in Bermuda.  The first was in 1609 and caused the wreck of the Sea Venture, which directly resulted in Bermuda's colonization.  Another in 1712 prompted islanders to change to limestone construction rather than cedar wood.  In 1926 a hurricane directly hit the island and sank 2 British vessels, the Calcutta and the Valerian, killing 88 sailors on the Valerian.  In 1987 Hurricane Emily surprised the island, picking up speed overnight and hitting the island early in the morning, far sooner than anticipated.  There were no fatalities, but people were not prepared and the damages were high.  Notably the roof of the hospital was blown off, a great reason for senior management to rebuild their current palace on the 5th floor.  Hurricane Fabian in 2003 was one of the storms that is remembered as most devastating by today's population.  Fabian resulted in 4 fatalities as people were swept off the causeway in their vehicles by the storm (the causeway is a long man-made bridge that connects the main island to St. David's and St. George's.  As well, power was lost to 35,000 homes, more than half the island, and it took up to a week in some cases to restore.  A week without air conditioning during hurricane season can be rough.

Hurricane Fabian memorial

Same beach when a hurricane approaches

Beach by Astwood on a clear day

There are two natural signs that a hurricane is coming.  One is shark oil -- fishermen determined generations ago that is you keep a vial of shark liver oil hanging outside that it will turn cloudy when a storm is approaching...a barometer of sorts.  The other is to watch the south shore.  As a storm approaches, one can see the surf get rougher days before the storm hits...the beautiful blows turn to a churning opaque sea with more of a greenish tinge as the rough seas dredge up the sea floor.  My favorite place to storm watch is Astwood Park.  Normally you can sit atop the cliffs and watch a calm sea -- as a hurricane approaches the waves crash with a ferocity that sends spray to the top of the cliffs where one normally stands, and the foaming surf completely covers the nearby beaches that one would normally walk or sunbathe on.  If a storm is bad enough, the beaches on the south shore appear totally different when the water subsides.  Stairwells are often ripped out, and the sand can several feel lower, pulled out and deposited elsewhere.

Waves crash over Astwood park from a murkier sea a few days before a storm

If a big one is coming, there isn't much to do but stay indoors with a supply of candles, flashlights, and should it be a weekend, pre hurricane parties are popular as well.  When stranded indoors, the company of friends always helps pass the time.  Having my cats, I usually find myself either at work or home, but I did make it out for a good hurricane moosemeat stew at newfie Steve's one year before it was time to batten the hatches.  Most people don't really sweat the storms...it's part of life on an island, provides much needed rain and drinking water, and clears out the deadwood and sometimes resculpts the beaches.

It is always nice to go out and watch the churning seas before a storm...but to be tucked in safely indoors by the time the rains start to fall.  In 2013, we only had one minor storm that didn't even necessitate staying indoors for the day.  A local book I read when I moved here, "Tea with Tracy" used the idiom "in like a lion out like a lamb" when talking about hurricane season here.  In like a lamb out like a lamb better describes this year, and suits me fine.

Bibbity Bobbity Boo

It has been a week of blog abandonment.  A combination of plain old busy, bits of adventure, and scheduled laziness have kept me away until now.  In a rare move, I booked a week off work with the express intention of getting rest and a well needed break.  Normally when I take vacation I try to get on the first plane out after my shift ends and land a few hours before the next shift starts, cramming as much as possible into those treasured hours of freedom.  Maybe I am getting old.  Maybe I was just that tired.  But I decided I just needed a week off.

But before all of that -- there was the Caledonia Ball to attend.  A new sparkly dress had been purchased, and we were all gearing up to be working class princesses for a night, Cinderella's waiting for a magical night out.  There was no fairy Godmother for us...no magical wand to tap us on the head and supply us with perfect hair, glass slippers, coach and gown...nope, it was wages spent at a store, the old faithful straightening iron, and Helen came through with Xena, our little car for the evening in lieu of horse drawn carriage.  Being the shortest of us all, I dubbed Helen Bibbity for the evening, leaving me to be Bobbity, and Siobhan to be Boo.  We did clean up rather nice after trading in our scrubs for frocks.  Prince Charming, in case you are wondering, was a no show for the event.  Except for Carol's Keith of course.

The Fairmont was Christmas Ready for the November 30 Ball

The Fairmont Princess in Hamilton was the location, decked out in lovely Christmas decorations already.  A towering tree glimmering with lights and ornaments, festive bows in the lobby, and off to the ballroom it was.  Ready for a night worthy of the Scottish reputation, we clicked along the marble flooring to the ballroom, ready for bagpipe, traditional food and dance, and many cocktails in mind -- for which the Scots also have a long standing reputation for.  As we enterred the ballroom, a hostess greeted us, saying "Are you here for the AA conference?"  We laughed at the alcoholic anonymous reference at the Scottish Ball and said "Of course, who isn't?"  She looked at us, and a few seconds after we passed called out "No, really, this is the Alcoholics Anonymous Conference."  We all stopped dead in our tracks, looked back and said "You ARE kidding right?"  "No, not at all," she said.  The Fairmont, notably, has several ballrooms.  "Oh, ok.  Well, maybe we'll see you tomorrow then," and off we clicked towards the stairwell to the ballroom on the next level.  This time we were greeted by a man in a kilt directing us to the cocktail reception and knew for sure we were in the right place!

"The AA A-List" Helen (Bibbity), Keith, Carol, and Siobhan (Boo)

Note that the AA A-List were the first to arrive at the lovely but still empty cocktail reception

The cocktail reception was in a smaller ballroom, soon adorned with the Scottish Pipeband, who lit into some Scottish theme music as the VIP's enterred (the Govenor and his entourage), and led us to the larger ballroom where we were seated at our tables of 10 for the event.  We had the lovely Beattie, Liz, Rachel, Kim, and Christine as company, although I am remiss to say I am not in possession of any of the group photos taken.  We were treated to a choice of red or white wine at the table, and in short order the appetizer of Haggis arrived.  My first taste of Haggis, and I can happily report that it did not look in any way shape or form like sheep stomach, nor could any part be discernibly identified as such...it actually tasted pretty good...well, actually, i tasted predominantly pepper, but it was a pleasant surprise!  Second course was the Cullen Skink, a really good soup with a strange name -- haddock, potatoes, and onions...no skinks or skunks at all.  The next course was black pudding stuffed quail and veggies.  The little quails looked so small and sad, roasted up for our culinary pleasure, that I had a hard time eating it.  I always feel remorse when my food resembles its original and non crispy form.  I am not sure if it was that quail has  a "gamier" flavour or if that was from the black pudding, but this course tasted a little unfamiliar to me, and being a bit of a culinary wimp, i did not enjoy it as much as the Haggis.  To my delight though, the Tipsy Laird was a trifle...jello custard and graham wafer crust soaked in some sort of alcohol.  Very tasty.

The pip band leading us to the main event

The traditional dancing of ceilidh ensued, and the regulars were more than happy to invite the newcomers in to participate.  This Cinderella is happier watching than trying to dance, but several from the table gave it a go, reeling and turning in a loop of kilt and gowns.  By the stroke of midnight however, Boo and I had the prescence of mind to relocate, knowing that midnight brings a close to the tale.  Sadly however, even on a Saturday Bermuda itself turns into a pumpkin by midnight as well.  The doors to Harry's were long closed and everywhere else was grumpy and closing up shop...so home it was, to remove the glitz and glimmer of the fairy tale that ended just a bit too soon.  Perhaps the fairy tale of living on an island is all the magic this girl can handle anyway.

If one decides to belle up for another ball this year though, there is still the fabulously named Hogmanay Ball on New Year's Eve...also put on to the Caledonia Society.  It should be said that they put a great deal of time and effort into creating a few special nights in the season for Bermuda, and hats off to the group and their work committee for a job well done.  Am glad I was able to experience the ball on my last Christmas in Bermuda.

Boo and Bobbity..princesses for a moment or two