Weekend time
Jun. 16th, 2012 11:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
peterbirksSo, after Greg got in his cab on Thursday night, I came back to my room at 7pm and promptly fell asleep for eight hours. I needed it.
I got up at 3am for the last newsletter of the week, unusually not in a zone that might be called "semi-conscious". I wrote away quite enthusiastically, until at about 4am I heard what sounded like it might be rain. I looked outside, and rain it indeed was -- quite heavy rain. Showers had been forecast, but this looked slightly heavier. FML, I thought. As soon as I get some spare time, the weather turns to shit.
So, that was the morning kind of written off. As it happens I had some work that I could be doing, so the time wasn't wasted. It remained grey the whole day, threatening to rain. About two and a half inches fell in the morning, causing localized flooding. That was more rain than had fallen in the previous 30 days combined and the heaviest single day's rainfall since the previous October.
Later that Friday I did venture out to the town to see if there was anywhere quiet enough to watch the England v Sweden game, but there wasn't. I didn't fancy standing in a crowded pub to watch the game, TBH. The "shouting tribe" of sweaty men cheering on a team is one peer group I never want to join.
So I took a few pictures. Here's the Bacardi Headquarters.
Later that evening, for the first time, there were signs of physical activity in front of the building!
One of the prettier flowers in the Rosedon garden is what I assume is called the "bird of paradise". It's a fascinating example of evolution. I'm sure that Richard Dawkins has it as one of its favourite plants.
++++++++++
Saturday dawned equally grey, but I had an early breakfast and then read The Economist on my Kindle. For a daily newspaper anywhere where there is wifi, plus The Economist, the Kindle is brilliant.
However, the cleaning lady said that it was "a beautiful day" and that I should get out for a walk. I agreed, and at 10am set off determined to make it at least to the other side of Hamilton.
I headed east, with the Bay on my right hand side, and within half an hour was at the end of the bay.
Front Street, Hamilton
Pickled Onion, one of several traditional conference dinner venues.
Flanagan's, a short way up Front Street from The Pickled Onion, and another late-night eatery. About the same as the Pickled Onion, but more aware of its place in the gastro-pecking order.
The Cairo Cafe. Odd cuisine, sort of Middle Eastern, but including chicken wraps and other such traditional Bermudian fare.
A look south across the eastern end of the bay. Three houses that I shall never be able to afford to buy.
Bermuda is an odd place. It strikes me that there is a hell of a lot of money about (per capital GDP is about $97,000), but there's also some depressed areas and, apparently, quite a deal of poverty. You certainly see what might in other times have been called "vagrants" hanging around, presumably most of whom have a drink problem (I saw one eagerly heading to the off-licence holding a $20 bill). There's a high level of gun crime, although not in Hamilton, and as I walked out into the southern part of the island, all of the rich detached mansions had burglar alarm displays that seemed to imply that any attempt to get into the house would probably result in death for the intruder. "Relaxed and slow" it might be here, but the sleepy island is clearly not as safe as the advertising media would have people believe. This is even more odd when you consider what advantages Bermudians have when it comes to getting jobs on the island. Basically if you can write your name you are guaranteed a job if you want it. And yet, there's apparently a recession.
I turned right and then doubled back on myself, so that the bay was now on my right hand side and the South Shore was on my left hand side. I walked to find the Railway Trail and kept on that for about half a mile, and then joined the South Shore Road as far as Elbow Beach, which really is genuinely beautiful and remarkably unspoilt. The downside to that, of course, is that there's not much to do except get sunburnt and to swim. If I was well-covered with suncream I might have ventured a paddle!
As with Gibraltar and Cyprus, Bermuda retains odd echoes of its colonial past. Bermuda is more separate from the UK than Gibraltar, less so than Cyprus, but I suspect that most places that were once part of "the Empire" have this feeling about them.
Although Bermuda only has a population of about 60,000 and is 20 square miles, its odd shape means that getting from A to B is often quite a trek. As I reached the beginning of the South side of the island, a road sign says 18km to Somerset one way and 18km to St George's the other.
The red line indicates the route (roughly), with the return being slightly different from the outgoing.
Oh yes, when I left the hotel I was slightly concerned that I hadn't taken an umbrella, as there still appeared to me to be a threat of rain. By the time I reached the beach just over an hour later, the sun was coming out! By the end, I was annoyed that I had come out in a collarless shirt and without a hat! My neck is, as a result, somewhat red.
The start of the railway trail which I joined at the end of Stowe Hill, having taken a slight mis-turn at the roundabout at the point where the south bit of the island joins the north bit.
A common sight in the southern parts of Europe I would imagine, but unfamiliar to British eyes. A large tomato field open to the elements.
Elbow Beach, by which time the sun wasa thretening to break through. I'd like to get here at about eight in the morning, before the sun got to strong and before any other people had arrived (not that it was particularly crowded, despite it being Saturday). Beautiful sea, protected by the reefs from becoming devastatingly choppy (although the weather can make it a bit frisky at times. Gulf stream warms it, and very unpolluted.
Yes, this place does have its temptations....
I walked back a slightly different way, and took a rather longer route of the railway trail back.
On Southcote Road
Ord Road. The South part of the island is only about 500 yards wide, but it's a hill up for 250 yards and a hill down for 250 yards. In places this necessitates a windy road such as this.
Back on the Railway Trail!
Elbow Beach Station!
The Railway Trail really was a colossal folly of Empire, but it has turned out to be one of Bermuda's great attractions. I intend to walk the length of it one day (well, maybe over two days, as there is a big gap between the eastern section and the western section).
There's even a tunnel!
The obligatory fire engine!
The whole trek took about two and a half hours, but was probably no more than five miles. I paused to take quite a few photos and to check where I was on the map. But, hell, quite tiring enough when the sun came out for the last 90 minutes!
_________________
I got up at 3am for the last newsletter of the week, unusually not in a zone that might be called "semi-conscious". I wrote away quite enthusiastically, until at about 4am I heard what sounded like it might be rain. I looked outside, and rain it indeed was -- quite heavy rain. Showers had been forecast, but this looked slightly heavier. FML, I thought. As soon as I get some spare time, the weather turns to shit.
So, that was the morning kind of written off. As it happens I had some work that I could be doing, so the time wasn't wasted. It remained grey the whole day, threatening to rain. About two and a half inches fell in the morning, causing localized flooding. That was more rain than had fallen in the previous 30 days combined and the heaviest single day's rainfall since the previous October.
Later that Friday I did venture out to the town to see if there was anywhere quiet enough to watch the England v Sweden game, but there wasn't. I didn't fancy standing in a crowded pub to watch the game, TBH. The "shouting tribe" of sweaty men cheering on a team is one peer group I never want to join.
So I took a few pictures. Here's the Bacardi Headquarters.
Later that evening, for the first time, there were signs of physical activity in front of the building!
One of the prettier flowers in the Rosedon garden is what I assume is called the "bird of paradise". It's a fascinating example of evolution. I'm sure that Richard Dawkins has it as one of its favourite plants.
++++++++++
Saturday dawned equally grey, but I had an early breakfast and then read The Economist on my Kindle. For a daily newspaper anywhere where there is wifi, plus The Economist, the Kindle is brilliant.
However, the cleaning lady said that it was "a beautiful day" and that I should get out for a walk. I agreed, and at 10am set off determined to make it at least to the other side of Hamilton.
I headed east, with the Bay on my right hand side, and within half an hour was at the end of the bay.
Front Street, Hamilton
Pickled Onion, one of several traditional conference dinner venues.
Flanagan's, a short way up Front Street from The Pickled Onion, and another late-night eatery. About the same as the Pickled Onion, but more aware of its place in the gastro-pecking order.
The Cairo Cafe. Odd cuisine, sort of Middle Eastern, but including chicken wraps and other such traditional Bermudian fare.
A look south across the eastern end of the bay. Three houses that I shall never be able to afford to buy.
Bermuda is an odd place. It strikes me that there is a hell of a lot of money about (per capital GDP is about $97,000), but there's also some depressed areas and, apparently, quite a deal of poverty. You certainly see what might in other times have been called "vagrants" hanging around, presumably most of whom have a drink problem (I saw one eagerly heading to the off-licence holding a $20 bill). There's a high level of gun crime, although not in Hamilton, and as I walked out into the southern part of the island, all of the rich detached mansions had burglar alarm displays that seemed to imply that any attempt to get into the house would probably result in death for the intruder. "Relaxed and slow" it might be here, but the sleepy island is clearly not as safe as the advertising media would have people believe. This is even more odd when you consider what advantages Bermudians have when it comes to getting jobs on the island. Basically if you can write your name you are guaranteed a job if you want it. And yet, there's apparently a recession.
I turned right and then doubled back on myself, so that the bay was now on my right hand side and the South Shore was on my left hand side. I walked to find the Railway Trail and kept on that for about half a mile, and then joined the South Shore Road as far as Elbow Beach, which really is genuinely beautiful and remarkably unspoilt. The downside to that, of course, is that there's not much to do except get sunburnt and to swim. If I was well-covered with suncream I might have ventured a paddle!
As with Gibraltar and Cyprus, Bermuda retains odd echoes of its colonial past. Bermuda is more separate from the UK than Gibraltar, less so than Cyprus, but I suspect that most places that were once part of "the Empire" have this feeling about them.
Although Bermuda only has a population of about 60,000 and is 20 square miles, its odd shape means that getting from A to B is often quite a trek. As I reached the beginning of the South side of the island, a road sign says 18km to Somerset one way and 18km to St George's the other.
The red line indicates the route (roughly), with the return being slightly different from the outgoing.
Oh yes, when I left the hotel I was slightly concerned that I hadn't taken an umbrella, as there still appeared to me to be a threat of rain. By the time I reached the beach just over an hour later, the sun was coming out! By the end, I was annoyed that I had come out in a collarless shirt and without a hat! My neck is, as a result, somewhat red.
The start of the railway trail which I joined at the end of Stowe Hill, having taken a slight mis-turn at the roundabout at the point where the south bit of the island joins the north bit.
A common sight in the southern parts of Europe I would imagine, but unfamiliar to British eyes. A large tomato field open to the elements.
Elbow Beach, by which time the sun wasa thretening to break through. I'd like to get here at about eight in the morning, before the sun got to strong and before any other people had arrived (not that it was particularly crowded, despite it being Saturday). Beautiful sea, protected by the reefs from becoming devastatingly choppy (although the weather can make it a bit frisky at times. Gulf stream warms it, and very unpolluted.
Yes, this place does have its temptations....
I walked back a slightly different way, and took a rather longer route of the railway trail back.
On Southcote Road
Ord Road. The South part of the island is only about 500 yards wide, but it's a hill up for 250 yards and a hill down for 250 yards. In places this necessitates a windy road such as this.
Back on the Railway Trail!
Elbow Beach Station!
The Railway Trail really was a colossal folly of Empire, but it has turned out to be one of Bermuda's great attractions. I intend to walk the length of it one day (well, maybe over two days, as there is a big gap between the eastern section and the western section).
There's even a tunnel!
The obligatory fire engine!
The whole trek took about two and a half hours, but was probably no more than five miles. I paused to take quite a few photos and to check where I was on the map. But, hell, quite tiring enough when the sun came out for the last 90 minutes!
_________________
