We had to stop in New York on our flight to Bermuda. I guess everybody got off. I don’t know why. New York was dark and cold and the clouds hung low.
But New York was the place to be in pre-Christmas December. Though people on the plane complained of hotels and shows being sold out and restaurants with long waits.
So why go to New York? We went to Bermuda, which, these days, is not only not sold out, it’s virtually empty.
Yes, if Barb and I had any complaints during our nine glorious days on this tiny fish-hook of an island (actually 180-some islands strung together), it was that some of the time we felt lonely. We stayed at the Greenbank Cottages, and most days we were the only guests.
The little ferry boat that took us from our lovely little home across the harbor to the city of Hamilton was, at times, a private yacht for us. It also stopped at a hotel resort five minutes away, but the resort was closed. And the next stop at the Belmont resort, a large hotel with hundreds of rooms, produced nobody either. The hotel had few guests.
Well, it’s always slow before Christmas, we were told. But in recent years, Bermudians have become concerned that they are being forgotten or that somehow they have gotten a bad rap about the island being too expensive, or having a bad attitude, or just being out of style.
The eight big resort hotels reported during the week we were there that annual occupancy rates have fallen to something a bit more than half. The hotels have lost about $50 million over the past nine years. 1996 was another stinker.
This has led to some soul-searching on the island. Maybe costs are too high. The taxi drivers were turned down in their effort to get a 25 percent raise in pay, the first since 1988, though they got something.
McDonald’s was turned down in trying to open a fast-food restaurant. Fast food would hurt the pristine image, the parliament decided, though KFC has a few locations in Hamilton.
There was lots of talk about bad attitude. Bus drivers should be friendlier, the callers to radio talk shows said.
And Richard, one of our cab drivers, underlined the point. “These people don’t realize,” he said in that distinctive black Bermudian speech, “that we are hurtin’. The tourists are not a bother, like some people think. They are the way we make a livin’.”
This winter the livin’ ain’t easy. That’s one explanation for the so-called crime problem, though overall crime statistics were down. But there were areas, such as burglaries at guest houses, up as much as 200 percent.
So this is a dangerous, desolate place, huh? No. Bermuda remains a bucolic, gorgeous place. If it’s crime you want, you get off the plane in New York. If you want a setting that takes your breath away, you come here.
Expensive? Our accommodation at Greenbank came to about $105 a night, including service and taxes. We had a lovely bedroom, a small but neat kitchen and a bath. And we faced the harbor, a mere five feet from the bedroom window.
Restaurants can be costly in midsummer, but the “dine-around” plan available during winter offers four-course meals in fine restaurants at anywhere from $17 to $40 — the latter at establishments that can be twice as expensive in the crowded months.
There are no car rentals in Bermuda, so transportation can be a problem. You either rent a motor scooter or you rely on ferries and buses. We did the latter. A seven-day pass, offering unlimited rides, sold for $32.50, allowing us the freedom to hop on and off many times a day.
Walking? Ah, here’s a problem that disappointed me. The streets are very narrow, frequently with no sidewalks and no shoulder. Speeding traffic (further confounding by being on the left side) comes at you around every bend. And if you think you can dodge it by diving into the bushes, forget it. Often there are stone walls on both sides of the road. You can get smushed very easily.
However, walkers do have a delightful alternative. A “railway trail” running from one end of the island to the other has been created out of the now-defunct railroad tracks. You stroll or hike down paths with many of the island’s loveliest vistas, going a mile or 20 miles along the path.
The weather during the nine days of early December was, for the most part, lovely. Highs hit 70 degrees, lows were about 62, the breeze was tender, the colors intense and you could see just about all of the island from certain points. The Gibbs Hill Lighthouse was especially rewarding, once we had puffed up the 182 steps to the top.
And once we had made it down those same steps, there was a most charming English teahouse welcoming us for a pot of tea and crumpets and more views. It was perfect, though, of course, we were the only guests again.
But, before I begin to sound like a tourist office promoter, let’s go back to the weather just a bit. The second day in Bermuda, the wind picked up late in the afternoon, the waves even in the harbor began to splash extraordinarily high and the little ferry swayed from side to side.
By nighttime the wind, now incessant, was hitting 50 miles an hour. We called the Bermuda weather telephone number and a nice British gentleman, in calm tones, told us winds would top 70 miles an hour that night. A hurricane this late in the year? No, merely a “full gale.”
The waves from the harbor whacked our windows all night and the winds sounded awesome. But a couple of days later, the sunlight and calm had almost obliterated that memory. We were to get some more rain, but the big winds never did return.
Well, what do you do when you are virtually alone in paradise? You can go shopping in Hamilton, which was festive in the pre-Christmas mode. But bargains are few, at least in the clothing. Still, it’s nice to drop into Trimingham’s, the large local department store, and be waited on by members of the Trimingham family.
Or you can go to the beach. Horseshoe Bay Beach, with its pink sand and the rocky corners of its splendor, is so beautiful it can bring tears to the eyes. I think I misted up once or twice as we walked from pristine beach to pristine beach.
Or you can visit the forts. One, at the Royal Naval Dockyard on the west end, is now a shopping mall.
Or you can eat. The restaurants this week welcomed us with great warmth. Especially the Fourways, the splendid establishment where the very English host told me that Ross Perot, who has a home on the island, comes by a lot. So did Richard Nixon and George Bush and some of the Royal Family at one time.
I said: “No Democrats?” And he said, “Yes, many visitors say that.”
We couldn’t afford the Fourways for dinner, but lunch was splendid at under $10. And, since it was raining as we left, the host offered to give us an umbrella to keep. Now, that is service.
The beauty of Bermuda is everywhere. I could walk the tiny maze of alleys in St. George’s — the onetime capital on the east end but now a reminder of the old Bermuda — for days. You go up Old Maid’s Lane, pass Aunt Peggy’s Lane and Nea’s Lane and Silk Alley to the Unfinished Church, an ancient relic of a Gothic temple that was only partly built a century ago.
We ran into a handful of schoolchildren in St. George’s. The boys were dressed in dark blue or maroon blazers with their school crest over one pocket. They wore ties and neat shorts and long socks, much as the businessmen in Hamilton do.
More than 60 percent of Bermuda is black, but the native “onions” (what the locals call themselves, in honor, perhaps, of their most famous product) all seem to share in the relative prosperity of the place. Bermuda is one of the most affluent countries on earth.
One of the cleanest too. No scraps of paper lying about. The homes, of the rich and less-rich, are immaculate and well-groomed. Everyone’s lawn looks like a golf course.
And so there we were, gliding about on the ferry, heading from one charming spot to another. When we did find another tourist, we were anxious to meet and talk and exchange reasons for coming to Bermuda in this, its season of emptiness.
One day, a young man showed up at the cottages. We greeted him like a lost son. He said he had read on the Internet that air carriers were offering very low fares this weekend and so he had come.
We took the young man to dinner, so pleased were we with the idea of company and conversation. We talked into the night.
We three were alone on the ferry ride back but, it was, as ever, beautiful.
DETAILS ON BERMUDA
Bermuda is a self-governing British colony in the North Atlantic, about 600 miles east of North Carolina. It’s a 22-mile-long chain of small islands (20 are inhabited), many linked by bridges and/or ferry. About 60,000 people live there, most near the capital of Hamilton.
How to get there: There are no direct flights from Chicago to Bermuda, but service is available (depending on the carrier) via Atlanta, Baltimore, Boston, Newark and Philadelphia on American Airlines, Continental, Delta and USAir.
Entry: Upon arrival, visitors must present proof of citizenship with a valid passport or a birth certificate or voter registration card plus a photo I.D. A driver’s license is not accepted as proof of citizenship.
Lodging: Bermuda offers about 80 places to stay, ranging from intimate groups of cottages to luxury resort hotels housing several hundred. Standard room rates for the April-October high season run $150-$350 a night. But package deals and November-March off-season rates (as much as 10 percent to 15 percent lower) lessen the sting.
For top-notch luxury, try one of the two Relais & Chateaux properties, the Waterloo House in Hamilton or Horizons and Cottages in Paget. Larger properties such as the Southampton Princess, Hamilton Princess, Marriott’s Castle Harbour Resort, Sonesta Beach Resort and Elbow Beach offer numerous package deals.
For traditional, personalized pampering, try The Reefs, Lantana Colony Club, Cambridge Beaches or Pink Beach Club. Harmony Club offers an all-inclusive package (even the motor scooter is thrown in).
Packages: Apple Vacations and USAir Vacations have packages that include air and lodging. Contact a travel agent for more details.
Dining: Options tend to fall between two extremes — slightly overpriced pub fare and horribly overpriced continental cuisine. Poolside lunches at hotels are light and greatly overpriced, and there is a smattering of affordable ethnic-pizza places. Fast-food chains are practically non-existent (there’s a KFC in Hamilton, though), which seems good until you face a $12 bill for a hotel cheeseburger.
Among the respected high-end places (bring a jacket and tie, guys): Ascots at the Royal Palm in Pembroke for English-style gardens and continental fare; Little Venice in Hamilton for classic Italian; Waterlot Inn in Southampton for Mediterranean; Chancery Wine Bar in Hamilton for an award-winning wine list; and The Plantation Club in Bailey’s Bay for local seafood and produce.
Two good downscale options for chowders, burgers and ploughman’s lunches are The White Horse Tavern in St. George’s and The Frog & Onion Pub at the Royal Naval Dockyard.
Information: Contact the Bermuda Department of Tourism, 150 N. Wacker Dr., Suite 1070, Chicago, Ill. 60606; 312-782-5486 or 800-223-6106, or on the World Wide
Web, http://www. bermudatourism.org.
