Happy as A Clam

Once the kitties were fed and a cup of coffee consumed, I wandered into town.  I was supposed to pick up my last paycheque, but it wasn't ready.  So I wandered into the shops to look for a Bermuda specific gift I was supposed to pick up, but the prices were too high so I decided to try at Harbour Nights later.  I went into work and handed in my ID Badge and said goodbye to a few people who were in a meeting when I left the day before, and gave a quick hello to my micro coworkers.  Then I was off with my camera to start doing some exploring.

I went to Palm Grove Gardens, where I have been dying to get back to for a while, but they are only open Monday to Thursday during the day, so it has been hard to do.  Now that I don't have to work, I was free to head over.  I stopped to have a quick chat with the parrots, vowing to bring some almonds the next time.  One little fellow is a talker, who I think says one o clock, bye rob, hello, whadda think about that, and who also surprised me by laughing a funny, old man laugh!  I was hoping to photograph longtails, but I swear they saw the glint of the camera lens and flew a few miles away.

There was a summer camp of kids enjoying the natural pool built onto the property.  They were sharing the water with a few tiny fish, and one little guy grabbed my hand and dragged me along to see "the beautiful thing" over by one of the walls.  Well versed in his fish, he was at a bit of a loss to tell me about this sea urchin, but he knew all about the sargent majors flitting about his feet.  Probably the most awkward place an adult with a camera can find themselves is in a group of strange kids dragging you into their midst and begging you to take their picture.  I was desperately trying to escape when one of the older girls marched up and asked in a haughty voice if i was some sort of photographer and then say she did not want her picture taken and stared me down with all the fierceness that an 8 year old who thinks she has found one of those creepy adults can muster.  The camp adults started looking over as I backed away from this dangerous wildlife, just wanting to be alone in one of my favorite photo spots, while the talkative little cluster of boys stuck to my heels until they finally got reeled back in by one of the chaperones,  Whew, I escaped.  I will never understand why kids always flock to me.

"The Beautiful Thing" the kids wanted to show me

An ocean fed swimming pool on the property

This statue fascinates me because I just can't fathom WHY someone went to the effort to do this

Once free of the kids, I looked around to see what Bermuda had to offer for me today.  What was available to me in abundance was something I had never noticed before in my busy days as a worker bee in society.  I first saw this large, spotted, pretty shell.

I had just snapped the first photo when I got a BBM from Edmonton asking what I was doing with my first day of freedom.  "Photographing mollusks," I replied.  That seems to be a bit of a conversation killer.  But I carried on, fascinated by the thousands of shells clinging to the rocks.  They varied in size from something the size of a pea to something the size of your fist.  And while staring at the rocks a little more closely, I just about fell off the rock I was standing on when I realized something had been watching me back and was now scurrying by at light speed.  My primal fear of insects kicked in, and I was very happy to regain my balance and realize my fellow explorer was not a big scary bug at all.

Another little soul enjoying the view on the rocks that day

Close Up

Seeing this little crab made me happy as a clam!  Well, right up to the moment where my presence caused him to scuttle over to the very edge of the rock.  At that point a gentle wave washed over him, which I thought might be quite refreshing.

A refreshing wave to cool the little fellow off

But then the next wave swept him away and I found myself wondering in horror if all crabs, including sand crabs, can swim, because killing off the cute little subjects I find is not my intent!  I was assured later that they are swimmers.  I went back to the more stationary mollusks after that.  I won't make you look at all of the mollusk pictures I took, so narrowed it down to a few.  The first thing I noticed was that there were loads of them, lined up on the rocks as far as the eye could see, and they kind of look like tiny mushrooms, or the inspiration for The Smurfs village.

The second thing I noticed is that real estate certainly changes how the little guys must experience life.  If I recall, they filter nutrients from the water that washes over them.  But it must take a certain amount of energy to hang on in the rougher waters.  I also remembered a conversation I had with a friend who is a Buddhist.  I am always interested in how different religions view the afterlife, and since Buddhism involves reincarnation, I wanted to hear more about that.  She seemed a little reluctant to go there, but I asked about really bad people, say Hitler, what would his fate be, since all life starts out good, any life would be a reward.  She said the less complicated lives, things like barnacles and mollusks, could spend lifetimes filtering water to earn good karma.  I am sure it is not her intent, but I have never really gotten the idea of the Hitler mollusk out of my head.  I have to say they all looked like mollusks with good intent, sweet actually, but these are the bizarre things that go through my head somedays.

Not sure which is the safest spot

Because life is a constant stream of tsunamis when you are a tiny mollusk

Realizing that my quick outing had been over 2 hours without sunscreen, I knew it was time to head back to the bike and home to the shade.   My little friends were still hollering "take my picture" when I passed by again.  So I did, making sure it was a long distance shot.

 On the way back I stopped to take another picture of the pond shaped like Bermuda.

I also found this curious tree, which is still very much alive.

And stopped to smell the flowers -- I always love the pink against the bright blue skies.

After that I grabbed groceries, toodled around the house, and only realized around 7 pm that my house and bike keys were missing in action.  The rest of the night would be spent looking for those and hoping I didn't forget them in the ignition of the bike where a passerby nicked them with bad intentions.  All in all, I got very little that I planned to get done accomplished on day one.  But at least there were mollusks.

Where's the Pogey?

My decision to leave Bermuda was both easy and complicated.  I say easy because part of the deal in coming here is that you are only here as long as the employment sector lacks someone Bermudian with your skills.  You cannot buy property.  And so psychologically, this has always been a temporary adventure, not a move, yet I would be lying if I didn't say it has also felt like a true home these last 5 years.  I say complicated because I chose to leave even though there was still a job for me, and that choice involved more than one factor.  I am getting better at listening to my intuition and following what I want to do and balance that with what i should do.  And I am beginning to suspect I have a nomadic soul.  I have said many times that Bermuda called me here, the sound of waves on Elbow Beach and tree frogs singing haunted me to the extent that I simply had to get myself here.  And so it did not surprise me when a similar moment inspired absolute surety and clarity in my soul that it was time to come home.  That moment involved me in Saskatchewan, having come home for my nephew's high school graduation, remembering that I had put all these nice new patio chair covers that I found in my sister's garage on their chairs for the overflow of guests.  When she noticed, she said she had planned on returning them as she didn't like them enough, and that's why they weren't put out.  It was only later when I heard the crack of thunder that I realized everyone had come inside to avoid the downpour.  This lead to me racing barefoot across the wet grass in my fancy new dress trying to cart multiple bulky padded chair covers to the safety of the garage.  Outside in the thunder, lightning, and rain, my heart stood still for one beat and a little voice inside of me said "home."  It seems home can be many places, at the same time, and that is a lesson I have learned as an expat.  Bermuda is home.  The Canadian Prairies are home.  A patch of land dubbed "Eden North" is home.  Home is wherever your heart tells you that you need to be right now.  And so the decision was made.  I returned and handed in my resignation on my first day back at work.  I gave one year notice, both to help them find a replacement, and to give myself time to everything I love on Bermuda one last go.  To enjoy every holiday one more time, every season one more time.  For example, my favorite tree in the Botanical garden only flowers once a year.  The longtails are seasonal.  One year to say goodbye.

And so, that one year has transpired, the last 8 or 9 months you may have followed through this blog.  My last day of work was Tuesday, July the 8th.  It went a little bit like this.

cake and fried chicken -- delicious!

A tribute to my special but bizarre passion for Mycology

special  cards with special well wishes inside

A nod to my cat lady-ness

A special pink sand necklace in the shape of "Lab Star" and a gift certificate to go to a new camera lens!

A photo filled daytimer to make me weep during the winter months

A super awesome thank you card from the students who enjoyed my long explanations of...everything

And the final team photo

After work was followed by a bit more of the same, but different, and right in the midst of Germany annihilating Brazil in the World Cup Semi Final.

And so, on July the 9th, I embarked on a new venture....being ungainfully unemployed.  Call it an extended vacation, but I am free to roam about the island without a work schedule for the rest of the month!  The Canadian in me needs to say, there is no pogey for me (aside, pogey is a slang word for cash from the government unemployment insurance program when you find yourself without work).  In fact, I am not sure that Bermuda even has a pogey program, but if they did, I would also not be eligible.  Nor would I be in Canada since resigning a job disqualifies you from pogey.  But it would be nice.  Oh well!

I thought that my first day of unemployment would feel like this.

Yes, that is indeed a long tail.

The plan was lay in every day, have coffee, go for a run, go to the beach, go take photos, and repeat daily.  Well, my first day of unemployment looked a little more like this.

Yeah, i opened my eyes to this disgruntled greeting

The cats were kind enough to let me sleep til 9, although sleep may not be the correct term for that period where I am physically in bed unable to move because the mini tiger has managed to fall asleep on both of my arms and she wakes up grumpy so I can't move, and one panther is alternating inserting tiny claws into my back to see where the "on" button is on his sleepy human, and the other panther is belting out a mournful song in cat about the Great Cat Famine of 0730-0830 09JULY2014, a clear tragedy in which he was sure he would die.  And people wonder why I drink so much coffee.

I did get a quick "congratulations of becoming a BUM" email, where BUM stands for Bermuda Unemployed Medical staff, a crew which is currently in Bali on their quest to tour the world without working for as long as possible.  While they are very keen to have me join them and teach me how to live 6 months with one change of clothes, wash underwear in the sink, and eat deep fried bugs, I graciously declined both because my meager savings will barely get me to Bali and pay for the medical treatment of the stroke if they tricked me into eating a bug (boys never grow up), and 3 cats don't fit in a backpack.

I am out of time today, I need, yes NEED, to get to the beach, but I will post about my first day off very soon.  Have a great day yourself!

Abbot's Cliff

Absolutely one of the hidden gems of Bermuda.  It is one of those places that isn't big, and there isn't much to see, but you could sit for a very very long time before you tired of the view.  Here.  Let me show you what I mean.

Up at Abbot's Cliff

To get to Abbot's Cliff, you follow yet another unmarked trail.  There is a road, I think its called Abbot's Cliff Drive.  More noticeably, you will see a big grey street level marker that says "Abbot's Cliff" at the entrance to a subdivision.  This is an uncommon feature in Bermuda so it will stand out.  Every house has a name, and most taxis will ask for the name of your house and place it mentally rather than a street address.  So a named subdivision is not the norm.

When you drive or walk to the top of this road, it becomes obvious you are heading into peoples driveways or private property,  The best directions I can give are to watch for an abandoned car at the start of a faint dirt path.  To your right will be a reddish house, quite large and sort of dug in compared to where you are standing, with a field of banana trees running along behind it.  I think have finally learned what a banana tree looks like, although the fact that there were bananas on them was the most obvious sign.  Walk past the field and just follow the path.  It will go up a hill, and splits in 2 directions, either way will get you to the viewpoint up top.

A view not everyone sees

We remarked that some of the best spots on the island are the ones that few tourists, and relatively few locals, frequent.  Most of the best places I find I am usually enjoying along with a wonderful dose of solitude.  On this day it was another adventure with Siobhan, and we did just sit and watch the scenery go by...literally.  First we watched the approach of a little boat.

We watched the longtails soaring -- I will need way more time to go over those photos though.  I pulled out the zoom lens to get a peek at some of the secluded homes which are on an island  surrounded by the bigger island.  How cool would that be?

But overall it was the calm waters and view of a quiet little Bermuda that made the day!

After Abbot's Cliff we headed into St. George's for lunch.  We decided to try what used to be Blackbeard's, but has been renamed the Beach House and is under the St. George's Club hotel management.  Directly across from Fort St. Catherine, this quaint little spot offered wonderful food and a great environment.  Shibby's lobster roll was a way healthier idea than my idea of the St. Catherine Sandwich, an innocent enough ham and cheese....that was deep fried and drizzled in honey.  There are not enough miles on Bermuda's roads to wear off the sin of eating that!  All in all, another great day on the island!

All You Need Is Love

It seems the Beatles were the grandiose philosophers of their time.  And it seems they got it right for the most part.  All you need is love.  And in another bit of wisdom, they didn't clarify it with a bunch of adjectives and rules and concepts,  Just plain old love.

Love it seems comes in many forms.  And everyone finds it, one way or another.  Sometimes the best loves are not the first kind you think of.  As I have learned, sometimes love wakes you up at 4 o clock in the morning, every morning.  Sometimes, well in fact every time, love eats your flowers.  Love can meet you at the door, share your dinner, and sometimes puke on the carpet.  Yes, today I am talking about one particular little love, the JJ cat, who passed away one year ago today.

JJ, like most pets, loved with 100% of his heart, and unconditionally.  It didn't matter how many times I rejected his 4 am affection by playing dead or hiding under the covers, he would persistently bounce around on top of me and pull at the covers with his paws until he was able to bestow his pre-sunrise greeting of purring love on my sleepy self.  And any reluctance on my part did not deter his exuberance at trying again the next morning.  Nothing made him happier than a cuddle, or being carried around.  If i didn't think to do it frequently enough, he would climb onto the shelf, cupboard, or ledge nearest me, and just leap out across the room when I got within range, and burrow in purring.  There were many days I did the dishes or housework with a 12 pound black fuzzball draped over my shoulder.

On a good day, it was made better by my little friend, happy to share all my time at home, purring away next to the fireplace, the computer, or perched next to me on the couch,  On a bad day, he stuck even closer.  I used to joke that a good cat can absorb at least 2 Litres of tears.  He never complained if I got his fur wet if I needed a good cry over something.

Just after his 16th birthday, JJ died of pancreas cancer.  There was no surgery, no therapy that could be done.  The vet recommended euthanasia 2 months prior, but I decided that as long as he wasn't in pain, and could eat and move about, purr,and enjoy being loved, that he would stay at home with me.  And so every day I headed into the unknown territory of the kitchen and prepared fresh food, made sure he ate and was hydrated, and checked to make sure he was not in pain.  He was very tired, but his eyes met mine with the same love they had for 16 years each day.  There was an added relief when I brushed his fur, as he had become too tired to groom, and when I carried him up the stairs at bedtime so that he wouldn't have to walk up on his own.  So on a Sunday afternoon, one year ago today, while we were sitting reading, he stood up and went to the window, and slumped to the floor.  I rushed over and held him as he took his last breath, grateful to be able to be at his side, for him to be in his home as he left this world.  There is a poem called The Rainbow Bridge, which speaks of a sort of pet heaven, where animals go to frolic and play until they are once again reunited with their owners in the life that follows this one.  I however, had a dream a few nights before he passed, in which my little niece, who has also left this life, was crouched down and calling JJ to her.  However it all works, I know there is a lot of love waiting for me on the other side of this life.  And some of it will be bestowed in purrs.  Til then, I hope he has lot of flowers to eat, Christmas trees to push over, and boxes to play in.  I sure miss him, his quirks, and all the love he had waiting for me at 4 am every morning!  Yup, all we need is love.  In some form.

JJ's last picture

Coney Island Park

I feel a little extra quirky today, so we are going to play a game of "Where's Waldo" that evolved with this picture set as well.  So, without knowing who Waldo is and where we are, here is the first picture....see if you can find Waldo (hint -- he does not have glasses or a red and white striped shirt)

On this particular day, Siobhan and I are exploring another new corner of the Bermuda tourist map.  We are going to Coney Island Park.  Now, this was a big of an exploration just to find it, because the map has a green area showing Coney Island park, with a couple of little cartoon trees, but the map doesn't actually show any roads going to it.  So we drove along looking for a likely road, but when we got to the Causeway we knew we had missed it, so we turned around at Blue Hole Park and turned around.  We scooted back past the gas station and decided to take the next major looking road and just drive til the island ended (which shouldn't take more than a minute or two.  We got to a T intersection and saw a playground, so we knew we were in the right vicinity, but we didn't see the trees nor could we see Ferry Reach on the other side, so we knew we weren't quite where the map said to be.  So we took a right....and into a no trespassing area that proved to be a limestone quarry.  We waved to the no trespassing sign mounted cameras, and carried on.  We followed the road in the other direction and shot out into traffic back on the main road.  I did a quick turn into someones private yard and aimed the scooter back from whence we came while Shibby waved to any onlookers and yelled "we're lost but loving it!!!"  I had to laugh.  And so we went back up the road, and were able to see that it was called Coney Island Road, so it is marked for future reference.  This time we stayed to the right and followed a coastal road down the hill, past an industrial site, and finally reached the entrance to Coney Island Park.  We found what appeared to be a very wide footbridge, and it looked like we would need to walk, as a couple of cars and  bike or two were parked here and looking over to what looked like Coney Island Park.

Standing at Coney Island Park looking back at the wooden bridge we crossed

Of course, I simply revved up the scooter, half closed my eyes, and headed across the bridge.  The boards below thundered and clattered ominously....but we made it!  Soon after, the other travellers crossed....it appears nobody thought the bridge looked very sound.  But the car made it, so it was all good.

On closer inspection, some of the boards look like they are not long for this world

We were rewarded at Coney Island Park with a nice serene view.  This little boat caught my eye, the colors complimented its backdrop.

And do know that you know where Waldo is, or at least that he is somewhere at Coney Island Park, a quiet, off the beaten path spot, can you see him now?

Can you see Waldo?

From Coney Island Park one gets a nice view of the Causeway, a place free from the sound of traffic and people, but not much else.  I think being named after a theme park I expected a scene that conveyed fun, gaiety, action.  What I saw is not a bad thing -- serenity, simplicity, solitude.  It's just a misnomer today.  However, back in the day of the Railway Trail, this was a busy station, and across the pond was the Ferry Reach station, and the Astor estate.  I imagine the bustle of the times make it an appropriate name back then.  This would be a good picnic, or an afternoon with a fishing pole.  We did come across one or two people doing just that.  But literally one or two.

The Causeway (aka road going to the airport)

There might not be official rides at the park, but where there's a will, there's a way!

What about Waldo.  Can you see him now?

Hi Waldo!

A walkway of sorts extends out into the water.  It too is weathered and in a state of decay.  I think that is the theme for Coney Island Park.  Things look abandoned, forgotten, left to fall into ruin.  However, I think there is a quiet beauty in that, and I am glad I laid eyes on it first hand.  There was even a dilpated seatless wooden chair on the crumbling walkway.

Ferry Reach from Coney Island Park

Abandoned boat in an abandoned cove

And so, after a wander around, we said goodbye to Coney Island Park.  And of course goodbye to our new friend Waldo.

Bye Waldo!