We Remember, Near and Far

November 11, 2013 in Hamilton Bermuda.  I am sure a few people are wondering, so I will say that yes, Remembrance Day is observed in Bermuda.  Despite being a small country, Bermuda has been as involved as it can be in the wars of the past.  In the First World War, in 1915, it was Bermuda who sent the first unit of volunteers from the Colonies to the Front Line.  Bermuda sent troops in the Second World War as well -- and although it is a small country with a small population, per capita Bermuda had more people in uniform than anywhere else in the British Empire.  I think that said that Bermuda offered all that it could. There are almost 3000 Bermudians named on this monument for their service in World War I and II.


The Bermuda War Memorial

Bermuda has also played a role as a prized naval base as far back as the American War of Independence.  In World War II there was a sizeable US military operation in Bermuda -- functioning as mail screeners, translators, and code breakers.  After world War II and up to 1995 there was both a Canadian and US Military base on the island.  Bermudians are still conscripted for a period of 2 years into military service, and many Bermudian families have loved ones who moved to Canada or the US and actively serve and served in the campaigns of these larger countries.  So today I stand on foreign ground on this little rock but share a sentiment common to us all.

Remembrance Day.  From early childhood the significance of November 11 is taught in our schools.  In the weeks leading up to Remembrance Day our teachers focused on the History lesson and wove November 11 into the Art and English curriculum as well.   We were taught to donate for a poppy and to wear it as a symbol of pride and respect.  Through our childhood poems and drawings, we tried to understand a lesson of humanity far beyond our capacity.  We learned to respect veterans.  To remember that they gave their lives for our freedom.  On November 11 we would put on our winter jackets and boots and walk the short distance from the school to the Legion to observe the parade of veterans, to bow our heads in silence, and witness the laying of the wreaths.

The Cenotaph in Bermuda

Neither my Uncle nor my Grandfather ever participated in one of those parades that I knew of...but I knew they had been a part of "the war."  My Grandfather, Frank Monette, was a pilot in World War II.  A photo of him in uniform hung in his house the rest of his life, and one of the few details I know is that he was involved in an escort flight for Winston Churchill.  My grandfather returned home, continued to farm, and raise his family.  My great uncle, Lloyd Elliott, was an infantryman sent to Italy and Africa, and returned home only after losing a leg.  He never displayed his medals, never married, never again fit social norms, and as I understand it, scared a few people.  Today we are familiar with post traumatic stress disorder.  50 years ago they called him crazy and society didn't give him many chances.  I won't say that I am always the best judge of character, but when I was little my so called crazy uncle was one of my favorite people.  I noticed that he preferred to sit off by himself and mutter away while the rest of the family engaged in lively banter after dinner...but I also noticed that he was always happy to see us, to share a meal, that he always patted me on the head on the way past or acknowledged me even though i was the littlest and "runt of the litter" at that time (hard as that is to believe now).  He continued to farm, and now that I am an aunt, I can tell how very deeply he loved my siblings and I even though he didn't have children of his own.  He gave us wonderful gifts, but more importantly, he sat up in his chair and dismissed the ghosts around him when we walked in the room to ask us about things that might be important to a child -- what did you learn at school today, what books are in that bookbag today?  I knew he had a kinder soul than the people who had shut him out, and I knew he had to be a hero because he went to war.  They do say children see things more clearly than adults sometimes.  Both men have been gone now many years.  I never knew either of them beyond my childhood.  But now as an adult I see what some of those missing pieces were that I sensed as a child.  We focused on the veterans in front of us, and tried to show them through our presence and with our humble words and drawings that we thought they were brave, and strong, and that we were very proud of them for fighting in that war...and maybe the one before it too.  We tried to show that we were sorry that many soldiers had died.  What we could not understand at that age was that beyond the people in front of us, there were many more who had survived but lost themselves...maybe their faith, maybe their confidence, maybe a limb, a livelihood, a future.  They didn't teach us in school that the survivors must have nightmares, and that coming home did not magically restore them to the person they were or the life they had.  They did not try to teach us about the grief a generation of parents, widows, and fatherless children were experiencing.

I continued the ritual throughout high school, but once out in the world I found that observing silence was all that I did.  I regret that today.  And it changed after 9/11.  There is a military base in Edmonton -- home to the PPCLI, Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry's 1st and 3rd Battalions.  When I became immersed in the sport of skydiving, I met many like minded souls who were currently in the military.  In support of them, I found myself at a much larger Remembrance Day Ceremony in Edmonton that I had ever seen in my small Saskatchewan hometown.  Friends like Ian had served in Germany and Cypress.  My boyfriend at that time had served in Bosnia.  John and John had both retired but looked always the solider.  Phil, aka Major Dad.  My uncle Al.  Over the years, friends were deployed to Afghanistan, returned home, and often went back...and back.  Jim, Glen, Jean, Steve, Dean, Chris Thombs, Chris K, Keith, and Billy to name a few.  A friend's brother in law was severely wounded.  The former boyfriend, Chris K, didn't come back.  In those years there was a noticeable shift in the service.  Not only did the crowds get larger, the crowds got younger.  In the services of my childhood, it was school children and seniors who made of up the majority of the crowd.  Now I noticed the bulk of the crowd were in their 20's and 30's, although all ages were represented.  The next year a colleague's husband didn't come back.

Today I remember that war has touched generations of all of our lives.  That there has been an unquantifiable loss, and that grief persists so long as one person who loved and lost someone still stands amongst us.  I see that as child my perceptions were too simple.  I thought the sacrifice was attached to the soldiers who went to war and died.  I didn't understand enough about the surviving veterans and how much it would cost one's soul to bear witness to such violence and horror.

Respect is due to the families who still grieve.  I am grateful to the soldiers of the past, and each of my military friends who have proudly represented Canada overseas...and I am even more grateful that you have come home.  Thank you for it all.  I hope we take today to remember and pay our respects, to brave the weather and show support through our physical presence -- and that tomorrow or very soon after that we let our government know that we support continued funding for veteran affairs services.  I will keep my candle burning again today, the white one representing peace, spiritual strength, healing, protection, and unity.  I will remember.

This time capsule was sealed May 2013.  It contains diaries, memoirs, and service records of Bermuda's veterans.

This Little Light of Mine...

It wouldn't be right to blog about all that is good in Bermuda today while the news reports are pouring in about the devastation in the Philippines and Vietnam is bracing to face this same terrifying power beyond our control.  It seems that there is always a lot to say, and today the most important thing to think about is the aftermath of Typhoon Haiyan (or Yolanda).

There are estimates ranging between 1,200 and greater than 10,000 lives lost.  Knowing how devastating the loss of a single life can be to a family or community, I cannot fathom the magnitude of grief that exists when thousands are lost.  And for those who survive to grieve, many are left without the comforts of home, power, and possibly have lost many who would normally offer support.  The needs of shelter, clean water, food, and medical services are not readily available to hundreds of thousands of people.  Hundreds of thousands of people.

I have never been to the Philippines, but everyone I know who has visited says that it is very beautiful and welcoming.  I have made several friends in Bermuda from the Philippines, and some in Canada as well -- each of them are conscientious and dedicated professionals, as well as being friendly, sweet, kind, and generous.  Many could do nothing but wait for what must have been an agonizing period of time to get word from their family and friends.  While most of my friend's families are safe as far as I know, I know that the ripples of loss and griefs will be making their way around the world today, and to Bermuda too.

I think we all sometimes feel overwhelmed.  With whatever is left in our paycheques for charity, we look at our home cities and see that there is a need for donations for people in our neighbourhoods -- homeless shelters, women's shelters, animal shelters, mental illness, cancer research, food programs, environmental preservation....there are more good causes on my doorstep than there is money in my pocket.  And then there are long standing global issues -- poverty, hunger, health care, oppression, climate change, habitat loss, and more.

There are some statistics that make it pretty amazing that any of us are in the position to give as opposed to be looking for that aid...even in North America.  To paraphrase Forbes Magazine in 2012, 0.1% (yes, ZERO-POINT-ONE) percent of America has 43% of all of the wealth in America.  America has about 25% of all of the wealth in the world.  The way my brain works, I need some math to put this in perspective for me today.  In 2012 when the article was written, America had a population of 313 million.  The global population exceeded 7 billion people in March 2012.  Therefore, 113,000 people, all of them American, possess almost 11% of all the money and assets in the world.  The percentage of people who own that 11% are 0.00000016% of the world's population.  So I guess we are just lucky to be living in the bottom half of the top.  I hesitate to say that the luxury is bestowed upon us by birth right, but if you look at the map below, it is undeniable that despite your own unique and valuable gifts as a human being, what you have has a lot to do with where you are born.  We all kinda know this, but to see  it graphically hits home more for me.

Basically if you live in the red zones, you are much wealtier than most everyone else

So here I am, born in Canada, living in Bermuda.  I am employed, with a roof over my head, shoes on my dry feet, and although I have worked very hard for a very long time, I know I also started out as one of the comparatively few lucky in this big world.  I have regular donations to charities I believe in, but until today the Red Cross has not been one of them.  The tragedy unfolding half a world away calls to me, and they are the organization that one knows will be there.  The damage has been sudden and severe, and if I can help donate a little for a few basic necessities, then I will.  When we wonder how much good we can do as one person against something so big, we just have to remember that numbers matter in this situation too.  For one thing  every unit of money is not the same.  A Peso in the Philippines is equivalent to 0.023 USD...a couple of pennies.  I wondered what $5 would buy in the Philippines, so I googled food prices there.  A loaf of bread is $1.15.  A latte for me versus 3 of 4 loafs of bread.  Now granted the infrastructure has collapsed to it's going to cost more than usual.  I am also aware that aid organizations use a portion of donations to administration, as one must, but those figures should not deter people from donating.  I am not so concerned with what the organization pays their staff, but how much money goes to actual aid.  The American Red cross gets 91% of your donation to aid.  I won't argue whether that's good enough, too much, too little...I'm willing to "bet my latte" and put my faith in the system and hope my donation to the Philippines branch of the Red Cross does some good.  It's the least I can do.

The only other thing I can think of is this.  Over the years I have adopted a personal habit.  I light a candle while I "reflect" or think it all through.  My candle today is white, a gift from Barbara when she visited.  A white candle is said to symbolize peace, spiritual strength, healing, protection, and unity.  It may not make a physical difference, but in the quiet of my own home I offer it as a sign of respect for what has been lost and hope as many begin to pick up the pieces.

Today, this little light of mine is for the Philippines.

It will be in need tomorrow as well.

Centerfield

There's a song in my head today that seems to be a fitting theme -- Trouble is a Friend by Lenka.  Catchy and so true.  Here's a link if you aren't familiar with the song http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QHpvlr_kG6U&list=PL038CEB117B0660F7

She sings "Trouble he will find you no matter where you go...he's there in the dark, he's there in my heart, he waits in the wings, he's gotta play a part...trouble is a friend, trouble is a foe, no matter what I feed him he always seems to grow...yeah trouble is a friend of mine, so don't be alarmed if he takes you by the arm, i roll down the window i'm a sucker for his charm..."

And so it is.  They say everyone comes to Bermuda because they were running away from something (or someone else).  But problems have a way of sticking to you like a second skin, and you are who you are no matter where you go.  I am blessed to know many people and have a lot of good friends.  My problem is that not everybody I like gets along with each other...in Alberta, in Saskatchewan, in Bermuda, or ever.  Relationships, be it friends, family, or romance are complicated, and the larger the group, the more complex it can become over time as things change.  I often wear myself out meeting up with several different groups, popping into several events in one day or evening, trying to make time for everybody, trying to keep track of the important stuff, struggling with when I have said too much, or too little, and basically playing centerfield when the drama starts up.  It's a slippery slope, a juggling act (with chainsaws), stressful, impossible, and in then end I end up exhausted and wondering how I could have handled it all better in hindsight.  That's why the song resonates with me...I care how people feel, which makes me a sucker for getting dragged into a conflict that has nothing to do with me.  But I do it...over and over and over.  Trying different methods makes me think of her singing no matter what I feed him he always seems to grow.  If I try to save feelings I compromise my integrity by saying too little...and usually get in trouble later for it.  Too much honesty can cause a lot of hurt when someone is dealing with a more than they can handle as well.  The only win is to not be there, which most people can manage...maybe by giving less, maybe by giving to less people, maybe by making choices to be in left field or right field.  Playing centerfield sure seems a lot harder.  But that's the position my personality puts me in...to go to the left or the right when needed...to be flexible.  Manage each relationship independent of everything else, find laughter, support growth, and most importantly, just sharing the little moments.  But I gotta say,  I have always hated baseball. I was never any good at it.  And I am not doing much better playing the role of centerfieldswoman in life either.  So bear with me friends, trust that I won't abandon any of you when the chips are down, forgive me when I don't get it right, and the next time you seem me struggling with a figurative line drive to the head, just remember how much I hate baseball.  I'm only on the field because you, my friends, asked me to be there and I value your friendship.

On a better sports note, it's Rugby week in Bermuda!  There is a very obvious spike in the number of good looking, fit, scruffy men wandering the streets of Hamilton and roaming the aisles of the supermarkets.  Yup.  Trouble he will find you no matter where you go, oh oh....  I think tomorrow I will get a bag of popcorn and just sit on the street and watch the new scenery go by.  What could possibly go wrong?

That's it for today, hope you all know how much you matter, and we will keep doing what we do here, home, or the next place -- the best we can.

Those Crazy Pink Buses

The Bermuda Bus Service has been in the news again this week, and again not in a positive light.  There will always be bad apples, Bermuda comes with its quirks, but overall the Bermuda public transportation system is set up pretty well.

All of the buses in Bermuda are a pale pastel pink with a blue stripe.  They are equipped with a front and middle door, the middle door being a wheelchair accessible entrance.  Back when I was riding the bus in 2009 most drivers would not open the middle door as they stated a lack of training on using the ramp.  This made getting on and off the bus a little more awkward than it had to be at peak hours when all the seats were taken and the aisles were jammed with people holding onto the railings or supports from above.  Hopefully that issue has been resolved, maybe somebody out there can let me know (but don't assume 4 years passing guarantees the resolution of an issue).

The common Bermuda pink bus

The main bus depot is in Hamilton on Church Street.  From that location you can take a Number 7 past the hospital and along the scenic south shore all the way to the furthermost point on the route going West, Dockyard.  A number 8 will follow a similar path until the lone traffic light on the route, where it will veer to the right and travel along Middle Road, also ending in Dockyard.  The 7 and 8 routes merge at Barnes' Corner, so if you are going to Dockyard, either will do.  But when boarding a 7 or 8, be sure to look at the destination sign on the front of the bus -- if it says Barnes' Corner or Somerset, that is as far as it goes.  If you want to head towards St. George's, the Number 1 will take you past the hospital, the Botanical Gardens, Spittal Pond, John Smith's Bay, Tucker's Point Hotel and the Crystal Caves, the airport, and finally the town of St. George's.  The Number 3 will take you to Flatt's Village, Devil's Hole, and then joins same route as the 3 at the Crystal Caves.  The 10 and 11 will take you through Blackwatch Pass to Flatt's, Shelly Bay, Grotto Bay, the airport, and beyond.  There are a couple of smaller routes that will take you to St. David's, Spanish Point, and a few other small places.  These 11 routes offer frequent service from early morning til late in the evening in most cases, and are an excellent and easy way to tour the island.

In addition to buses, ferries supplement the public transportation, and this can be a nice way to see the island from a different perspective, or shorten your trip between Hamilton and Dockyard.  Another ferry will go from Dockyard to St. George's.  The ferry is a much faster way to get to your destination, but the schedule is less frequent, and reduced on weekends and holidays.  You can usually saunter up to a bus stop and during daylight hours and expect a ride within 15 minutes, but the ferries are about once and hour and shut down for 3 hours mid-day...so if you want to take the ferry, check the schedule and plan to be there in advance.

To navigate Bermuda by public transport,  first you will need a map.  You cannot get one at the main bus terminal, but you can get one from the smoothie and coffee shop on Front Street called Juice N Beans.  I know it sounds strange, but as best as I can tell, the bus service decided to cut the free schedules and have people look it up using their home computers and smart phones.  A pro-tourism group started printing them and handing them out with other brochures at the smoothie coffee shop.  You MAY be able to get them at the ferry terminal Visitor Information Center on Front Street, but last time I had guests and tried to get one from the bus terminal they certainly didn't offer up any information.  In one of those conversations like the ones making headlines this week, the conversation went something like this "Hi.  Can I get a package of tokens and a bus schedule please?"  "No!  You can have only have tokens."  "OK.  Are you out of bus schedules?  Should I come back."  "You can't get em anymore."  Having been through this type of discourse before I just took my tickets and went home, and through relaying the story found out that Juice N Beans could help me out with a schedule for my guest.  Or I could print it online.

It's important to know that you cannot use cash for the bus or ferry (the current topic of debate in the news due to a letter to the editor from a tourist who had a very unpleasant experience in trying to do so).  You must have tokens or a pass to ride the bus or the ferry.  You can buy these at the ferry terminal, the bus terminal, hotel lobbies, post offices, and probably several other places I am not aware of.  The tokens will be a 3 or a 14.  A 3 is good for transportation within any 3 consecutive parishes.  A 14 will take you anywhere you want to go.  The 3 is work $3, the 14 is worth $4.50.  A ferry ride is equal to a 14.  Or...make it easy and get a 1,3, or 7 day pass...or a month pass if you stay that long.

Now the next very important lesson about the bus service is the bus stop.  Some bus stops are very noticeable.  So are just a pole on the side of the road.  Keep your eyes open for these.  The poles on one side of the road will be pink, the other side of the road will have blue poles.  Pink pole means no matter where you are you are heading towards Hamilton, or town as we call it.  A blue pole means you are heading away from town.  So, if you are on the west end of the island, a pink pole will take you east.  If you are on the east end, a pink pole will take you west.  Better to just remember "pink pole to Hamilton, blue pole away from Hamilton."

Pop Quiz...do you see the bus stop...and where will it take you?

Bus etiquette dictates that before boarding the bus you allow everyone disembarking the bus to get off first.  This can take a while since people from the back my have to jostle their way to the front before bursting out into freedom.  Then you can board, give your token, and of course greet the bus driver in the customary way -- which is either Good Morning, Good Afternoon, or Good Evening.  Hi, hello, hey there just don't cut water as there is an expectation to use the traditional greetings.  You will generally find you get better service and better reactions this way.  Once on board, just remember that the bus will be driving on the left side of the road...so if you are taking a "blue pole" route away from town, get a window seat on the left to get the best view of the coastline and the beaches.  If you are coming to town and boarded by a pink pole, aim for a window seat on the right.  Most of the bus drivers are extremely helpful, and if you ask them to let you know when to get off for your destination, they do a great job of calling out the stops and point out the best stop for you.  Some take a lot of pride in being good guides and entertainers, and rule their bus as the head of the household -- telling young people to stand and give their seats to older passengers if they fail to do so, commanding respect among the passengers, demanding social graces other parts of the world have let slide.  All in all, in the 3 months that I rode the bus before getting a scooter, I truly enjoyed some of those beautiful views and entertaining rides.  The driver's can help make for a great experience in Bermuda!  And truly, more often than not, this is the case.

All that's left is pick your destination and enjoy the ride!  With the narrow windy roads, hairpin turns here and there, you will likely find it quite an adventure.  I heard an American tourist loudly exclaim once "NASCAR has NOTHING on this woman!"

If you don't love it, there is always the alternative....

The rare Bermuda Pink Taxi

First sight of Devonshire Bay

Considering that Bermuda is so small, it is amazing how many places I have not set eyes on in the years I have been here.  Bermuda is a maze of roads and one never really knows what they might find until they decide to go down one and criss-cross  through all the nooks and crannies in search of a new vista.  I doubt I will have seen them all before I go.

Last week I got an offer to visit my coworker Sue and take some pictures while she was house sitting at Devonshire Bay.  House sitting is quite common in Bermuda -- people with pets normally have someone come to their house and stay there full time while they are away, rather than just dropping in to feed the pets.  It works so well because the animals get the companionship they need, the house is not noticeably vacant, and normally the house sitter is trading up for the week.  The price of rent and real estate in Bermuda is very high, so most of us who have not been granted residency on the island will jump at the chance to stay in a full size home for a week or two and happily leave our apartments behind.  It is also a good way to be able to accommodate guests -- if you have a house sit you can offer friends your place, or the spare bedrooms at the house sit.  I have not so lucky, no one has ever offered to have me and my small herd of cats come and hang out with their pets.  Plus Lexi is not known to be a good playmate for anyone other than me and JJ.  My response was, I have never been to Devonshire Bay, of course I will stop by!

And so on the designated day, I drove about 3 minutes from work and turned down the road called Devonshire Bay Road and voila, there it was.  On the south shore, with calm and gentle waters lapping against the boats and sands, no big waves.

Devonshire Bay

Sue had turned her house sit into Santa's little workshop, and I dare not divulge any details in case of ruining any secrets, but she was building treasures of tradition which was really neat to see.  Sue is Bermudian, and one of those really neat people you meet in life...a fellow microbiologist, who lives on a boat and has sailed all the way to the Antarctic, and was attempting to go round the world but was sidetracked back to work by a broken mast...I always get her travels mixed up...but i think she sailed to Batoga once.  It's not every day you meet someone with this set of cool experiences.  My claim to fame by association is that my trusty Canadian winter down jacket from Mark's Work Wearhouse accompanied her to the Antarctic and met a penguin or two along the way.  My jacket has officially had adventures I am left to envy.

After a quick chat I continued along the path looking for areas to explore.  I noticed a hill to the right of the bay and went to see what was there.  I found another tiny national park, the Devonshire Bay Battery.

Site marker

The site was one of Bermuda's old forts (each parish had at least one armed fort).  Established in 1616 it was used 300 years later during World War I.  Looking into the history I come only one interesting fact.  Devonshire, one of the 9 parishes of Bermuda, is named after William Cavendish, the 1st Earl of Devonshire who lived in the 1500's.  My current residence is in Devonshire, near Cavendish Heights.  As for the history of this fort, it is another part of Bermuda that is lost to the internet's pool of information.  This sign says more than any google search I tried.  Bermuda was originally fortified by the English to fend of the Spanish should they return, and later the French and the Americans were perceived as threats.  The area shows trenching below the hill and boasts a fabulous view of the sea.  That is all that I was able to learn.

I decided to poke my head along the trails on the site, and peek through trees wherever I saw the hint of a footpath, and as always, the greatest treasures are found that way.

Around the corner and through some trees

Peeking though the trees I saw a beautiful glimmer of standing water on the rocky shore.  Well worth the few paces it took to get there.  I spent a few minutes enjoying the view and enjoying the Bermuda fall sun and its early sunset before making the very quick jaunt back home for the evening.  Thanks for letting me know this view existed Sue!

Off the beaten track at Devonshire Bay

THE Bermuda Cathedral

As Halloween has passed us by it seems like a nice contrast to blog about a more secular topic.   There is a landmark structure in Hamilton that most people refer to as The Cathedral in Bermuda.  It is actually an Anglican Church named The Cathedral of The Most Holy Trinity.  It, stands, of course, on Church Street.  The City of Hamilton has a mix of modern and old in its downtown core.

Thistle house, an office building, stands "kitty corner" to the cathedral

It should be said that Bermuda has a lot of churches...one list I found I was able to add up 125 churches spread over the island's 20.6 square miles.  That means there are 6 churches for every square mile on the island, or one church for approximately every 500 people.  The cathedral was designed to seat 1200.  So odds are that you can find space on a pew or two around the island come Sunday mornings.  To be fair, a lot of the population attend church regularly -- 79% of the population claimed religious affiliation in the 2009 census, with only 11% claiming none (the remainder were unspecified affiliations).  One thing I noticed when I moved here is that while the population is religious, single parent families are more common and accepted in Bermuda than North America.  This got me sidetracked and so I pulled up some statistics.  The government of Bermuda states that in 2000, there were 6,328 children in Bermuda in single parent families, and in some demographics 5 out of 10 children would statistically be from a single parent family.  The 2011 census in Canada cites a 16% rate of single parent families.  It's an interesting difference, and from what I can tell it is due to a difference in perception and family structure.  Bermudian families as a unit seem to share in the raising of the child, which is a pretty neat thing too.  Now for a random interesting fact on Canada statistics, in 2011 the official data shows that common law couples have surpassed married couples for domestic arrangements.  I did not know that until I decided to hike up to a tower of an old church in Bermuda.  A topic I should return to.

Despite the attractive modern buildings, and the basic supermarket that stands across from it, the cathedral has long drawn my eye for its Gothic style architecture and striking design.  Officially, the church sites the design as Roman Cross and the architectural style as Neo-Gothic.  All I know is that it's striking.  Made from Bermuda limestone, to me it seems a little less weathered than other churches of similar age that I have seen in the US, where the stone seems to darken with time.  Construction on the cathedral, designed by one James Hay, started in 1886 and was completed in 1894.  Interestingly, it is not the original structure.  The previous church began building in 1844, was completed in 1883, and destroyed by arson not long after in 1884.  The idea of a church arsonist really intrigued me, so I went looking for information about that story.  I found that some of the churches on the island have met a similar fate -- in fact the Old Devonshire Church was wiped out by a hurricane in 1715, was rebuilt and survived another 255 years of history before being torched by an arsonist in 1970.  The name of the arsonist and the full story our our subject, the cathedral, is apparently one of the few mysteries of the internet.  My inability to find more information on this event just proves there is still value in books and libraries...which I cannot reach at this moment and so it will remain a mystery of this blog as well.  The only reference states that the arsonist(s) were never caught, but surely forklore holds some clues.  With such a small population, chances are that at least a few people today know who did it, why, and  how they are descended from the culprit, but prefer to keep it out of the public record.  We all have knaves in our family trees...it's just that Bermuda's family tree looks a little bit more like a mangrove than an oak.

Cathedral of the Most Holy Trinity -- am quite proud of this photo

A few interesting facts that I learned along the way were that the land was purchased for 25 English pounds.  In 1938 the church went to war with the local termites, and in 1978 they took on both the pigeons and the devil himself -- the pigeons were set to be trapped, and the reverend Donald Omand came to perform an exorcism on the Bermuda Triangle.  I can say for certain the pigeons are still here.

I am always drawn to buildings with turrets and towers, wondering what it looks like behind those walls.  I found out last year that this church has a little gift shop, and for $3 you can buy a ticket to ascend to the tower.  I finally made it last week while I was working evening shift.  The ascent can only be made between 10am and 1pm, so sadly no chance for a sunset shot.  The inside of the church is equally beautiful, but it was the view I was more excited to get a look at.

After buying my ticket, I entered through a tiny door, and backed out again to the let the couple coming down through -- the stairs are only designed for one way traffic.  Fortunately you can hear whether or not anyone is above as voices echo down the tower.  The climb is stated to be 155 little stairs -- I say stated because my count was 2 off...maybe you don't count the final step that places you on the floor in between or at the top, or maybe my counting skills are lacking.  At least one tourist on TripAdvisor agrees with my count.  The last set of stairs are wooden and straight as opposed to spiral, so the climb, so you won't be totally dizzy when you do get to the top.

teeny tiny windy staircase

My curiosity satisfied, I did get some nice views of the harbour and the city.

One of the turrets, decorative only so far as I can discern

Looking west past City Hall and towards what I think is Somerset

Few photos taken, fresh air inhaled, view enjoyed, I descended the stairs back to more earthy pursuits...namely work.

The Smell of Bermuda

I was working 4-midnight last night again.  It's been a hectic week and the fridge at home was bare, leaving me with few options for a lunch at work, and the idea of cafeteria food was just too dismal.  So I texted a friend who was also on shift and made plans to get take-away instead.  The obvious choice for take-away food in Bermuda is actually curry from House of India...always quick, always delicious.  It was dusk when I hopped on the scooter to make the short trip into town for the food, and I noticed as soon as I turned onto Reid Street the unmistakable smell of hot dogs.  I looked left and right but didn't see anything that could be the source (there are no new york style hot dog carts in Bermuda...there are a couple of "street meat" vendors that operate on front street from more bus-like structures, but they seem to have schwarma's and jerk-chicken poutine more so than hot dogs.)  The hot dog smell really surprised me, and I realized that it was because I am normally used to smelling Chinese food in that area as I drive by Chopsticks.

My next turn was down Court Street, an area I have never really been on a Friday night, as it has a reputation for being a rough area.  I was surprised to smell a rich smoky barbecue in the air.  Court street looked like a block party -- The Jamaican Grill had a tarp over their portion of the sidewalk and were grilling jerk chicken in the open air.  Families were leisurely chatting at the restaraunts along the street, people sitting on the sidewalks, a peaceful, happy vibe in the air.  Very different from the energy of front street, I was struck by the truly Carribean feel of the street as i drove through.  2 doors further down another group had a barbecue set up from what looked like a home-made barrel contraption.  Passing this and going down the hill I began to smell curry from House of India.

On the drive back, I got to thinking that I never smell the food so strongly while walking down the streets back in Canada.  Obviously the outdoor vendors give would be detected, but the to smell cooking from the indoor places like Chopsticks and House of India while driving by seems unusual.  I am sure it is due to the way the kitchens are ventilated or some reasonable explanation, but I like to think it's because the island air is a little cleaner than the cities, and not clogged with as many petro and industrial biproducts.

So when not driving past food places, what does the island smell like?  Some might guess ocean, but to me the ocean doesn't have much of a smell, it is more of a texture.  I don't smell salt, I feel the air as being a little heavier with the humidity, a little thicker, with just a barely discernible sense of moisture that says ocean to me.  Although there is a lot of vegetation, there is not a lot of farmland, so I don't get the rich, metallic scent of earth after it is tilled or rains.  Nope.  Bermuda usually smells like flowers.  I am not a botanist, and my ability to identify plants is pretty limited.  I noticed immediately when getting off the plane the strong scent of flowers.  When I looked around what I saw was Hibiscus, in pinks, reds, yellows, whites, oranges, and hybrid mixtures.

Hibiscus

Over the months of stopping to smell the flowers I never picked up quite the right smell until someone told me to smell the little pink flower nearby -- bingo!  I was told they are oleander (latin name Nerium oleader for all you science geeks).  Oleander is, by the way, the most poisonous plant in the world if digested.  Smells delightful though. The scent carries through the island and is strongest to me in spring and summer.  My favorite non-visual memories will be long walks with the smell of these flowers, or driving the scooter alongside the ocean by moonlight and getting hit with a strong sweet smell that is Bermuda.

Pink oleander

Oleander.  Bermuda smells like Oleander...and sounds like tree frogs.

Oh yes, and the curry take away really hit the spot last night.