To Labour or not to Labor...

In PR land, August is commonly known as 'silly season' due to the lack of hard news it generally generates. Here in Bermuda there's been plenty of silliness to populate the summer season but a surprising abundance of real news centring around a number of labour disputes. You can't blame a worker for picking this time of year when the weather is at its sweetest to wanna down tools.

Unfortunately it is also the time of year when the island is at its busiest with tourists, ready to be inconvenienced and put off for vacationing here for life. Not a great way to go in a struggling economy Bermuda!

There was an eight-week bus strike after drivers were up in arms by the sacking of a colleague who refused a drug test after an accident that injured a passenger. This rather shady grey matter is finally expected to be sorted through arbitration. Then came a strike notice from City of Hamilton workers disgruntled by the sacking of two colleagues. A ban on overtime for dockworkers as a cost-saving measure has led to delays in food shipments that come into Bermuda on Sundays reaching supermarket shelves and restaurants. As if the lettuce wasn't limp enough already! Then it was the prison workers threatening a strike over 'sub-human' conditions as they claim to face more dangerous criminals than ever before. With many of the island's working population off-island on vacay, it begged the question who was on the island and functioning last month. Would the last one to leave the island please turn off the light!!

As we hit the Labor Day holiday on Monday, September 5, most the disputes had reached some sort of resolution. Oh the irony, if they had continued over this U.S. celebration of the economic and social contributions of workers. However it wasn't all best foot forward towards as unions threatened to boycott this very day's festivities, marking the 30th year that the date has been observed in Bermuda. The unions felt it was "counterproductive” to participate in celebrations as they see International Workers’ Day on May 1 to be “the true Labour Day.” I've gone cross-eyed, isn't it counterproductive to strike about something so seemingly trivial in the first place?! Come on people, let's sit down and settle this over a nice tea break. 


All this silliness led me to make the most of the day off rather than spend it pounding the pavements with a placard. I went off to Chicago, which certainly lived up to expectations that it would be my kind of town. Skyscrapers, shopping, sunshine, Starbucks washed down with more than a few cheeky vinos, cosmos and slices of deep pan to the sounds of ja-aa-azzz. I learnt that Chicago is actually known as the 'windy city' for its political uncertainties as a swing state rather than the high winds off Lake Michigan as often assumed. 

Back on the island we're are in the full throngs of dealing with physical winds. We missed the lovely Irene on the way out by a mere few days, only to be greeted by the far too friendly Katia on our return. Luckily she turned out to have more pout than puff for this little island. Now Maria is hot on her heels this week, but it's too early to tell whether her she will strut her stuff this way and make a swing for us with an over-stuffed handbag. Nevertheless I'll be hurricane-force super-glued to the highly addictive www.stormpulse.com once again...

UK VayK

Just about recovered enough from my return from my UK vacation (a week ago!) to write a post. And I'm not even joking. When you live in a paradise far far from home, the whole idea of a holiday being all about a little R n R flies out of the plane window as soon as you take off. Time off becomes all about finding time (and somehow quality time) for ever person you want to see. And with ten days back in blighty, the longest period I've been home since I bumped off to Bermuda in April 2009, achieve it I did, but forsaking my health. Ever since I landed I've been plague by face ache, which, having been mis-self-diagnosed as sinusitis and following a surprise root canal today, seems to have at last subsided.

But alas I did have a faaaabulous time with faaaamily and friends in Newmarket, Cambridge, Nottingham and North, Central, South AND South West London town. It was my first British Summertime in three years and it did me proud with only one minor shower and plenty of pasty pins stalking around the place. I left the island in 90%+ humidity and torrential tropical downpour, so it was somewhat of a relief to experience summer not on steroids.

I was also pleasantly surprised by the upbeat spirit under UK skies. Relying only on the top line news that makes it across the pond, most of what I hear is doom and gloom about redundancies and interest rates, interspersed by the odd Royal wedding to lighten the mood. However, what I was warmly greeted with was a true sense of camaraderie and more union jacks flying high than I've seen in years. This perspective was helped along by my enjoyment of some thoroughly British pursuits - a spot of horse racing, watching some rowing from a pub garden, M&S underwear shopping, a BBQ in an English country garden, a picnic in a park, a drippy 99 complete with Flake, Soho, the Southbank, breakfast at the Wolseley and copious amounts of cider and Pimms on a sunny afternoon in Parsons Green to round it all off.

The atmosphere on the Southbank was particularly sparkly as for the Festival of Britain they had lined it with bunting and recreated the seaside with a few tonnes of sand and a fairground complete with helter skelter and candyfloss.

The only thing to dampen this summer splendour was the news of Amy Winehouse's death while I was in town. You either love her or hated her and loved her I did and my happy memories of catching her intimate Somerset House gig in 2008. But even that almost seemed like another symbol of the time of great excess lingering over from pre-credit crunch being put to rest to make room for this revival of Cool Britannia ignited by the countdown to the London 2012 Olympics.

That said, this account may have been slightly differently had my trip been scheduled a week later to coinicide with something entirely different being ignited all over London - riots. Nothing like a bit of anarchy as the archnemesis of the great and good in the land of hope and glory.

Everyone always asks me what I notice has changed after so long away and I have to say not much. What is always striking though is the amount of people that dissect the same place without colliding. Something you never notice till you spend most of your time on a relatively deserted island. When you are in the Big Smoke day in day out you develop some kind of inbuilt homing device to allow you to select the exact angle at which to cross a train station concourse and the conviction to stick to your chosen course no matter how big and burly the obstacles are that try to play "Chicken" with you along the way. The batteries in my own station survival SatNav are definitely dead. I couldn't count the times I said sorry for getting in people's way en route to my Gatwick Express train, it certainly wasn't the hardest word that morning.

One thing that is most definitely new is a piece of Turkish culture that has made its way to British shores - the fish pedicure. You may or may not be familiar with this concept but basically it is where you stick your feet and in a bucket  of water containing tiny fish that nibble away the dead skin from your weary soles. The fish pedicure was everywhere I went - Newmarket high street, a shopping centre in Cambridge, a spa in Elveden Forest in deepest Suffolk. Everywhere and totally unexpected.

On arrival back to the island's airport I was disappointed not to be greeted by the usual steel pan musician. Sunday must be his night off. So what's new in the triangle?? Well we've got our own skin eating water life it appears - Sea Lice!! The talk on the BDA streets was all about how the annual Non-Mariners festivities (basically a big excuse to blag your way onto a boat, raft up to other boats, float and drink) was marred by the arrival of an outbreak of jellyfish larvae that get caught up in swimwear and sting like a bi-atch. Not quite as relaxing as being gently nibbled and exfoliated but we don't like to be left out from overseas trends.

Another international craze that has finally made it here in recent weeks is Planking (the art of being photographed imitating a plank in unusual situations in case you didn't know). The best I've seen so far on zee island is the planking on the statue of national hero, Johnny Barnes...

The Chief of Police was less enamoured to see a off duty police officer outed for planking on a police vehicle. He quickly issued a statement along the lines that despite appearances the police were busy on the streets of Bermuda trying to keep the public safe.

No time for planking for the Police in London this week that's for sure. Sad, sad times.

Bermewjan language lessons

Leading on from last week's lesson in what it is to be Bermudian, this week I'm revealing the mysteries of how to talk like an onion (Bermudian). As you'd expect of something that comes from the Bermuda triangle, the local accent is indeed a mystery.

A regional dialect of the English accent, it has been described, according to Wikipedia, as "one of the most severely under researched varieties of English." Rarely heard outside of these 21 square miles, it is difficult to place to the untrained ear and almost impossible to mimic. I've tried, but then that doesn't really say much as my Welsh sounds like it's straight out of Mumbai.

I found this random clip of a Bermudian being interviewed on YouTube and I'd say this is fairly typical of the voice of these parts...

To try and put it into words, it falls somewhere between the British, American or Caribbean English dialects. It's key distinguishing features are the switching of the Vs and Ws, "wedding" becomes "vaddin" and "words" become "vurds." Vowels are elongated e.g. "Vhaaaat" (What??) or "voooman" (woman), the use of a and e sounds are interchangeable and the thinking word is "um um" instead of the British "eeerrmm."

Confused yet? Luckily a couple of helpful Bermudians brought out a Bermudian dictionary, "Bermewjan Vurds." See vhaaaat they did there?! Upon reading it, it is easy to see how a foreigner talking to Bermudian could become a little lost in the triangle.

Here's some of my favourites:

1) AX = Ask "Don't ax me, I don't know vhy it's like this, that's the vay it is"
2) BEER/BEAR "Polar beers are dangerous not chilled"/ "I'll have another bear, make it a coalwun"
3) Catcherself - "You bess catherself before it vreck yourself"
4) Chryl-up = impregnate (who said romance was dead?)
5) Dahn = not up
6) Dur = not hur
7) Lacks-tristity - pay your bills or you'll have to make do without lights and a/c
8) Maynayze - I challenge you to find a Bermudian's lunch order that doorsent include the vhite stuff
9) De Pawn = the Atlantic Ocean  "I'm gonna cross de pawn for my summer vacation"
10) Vanasdee = Wednesday

Got all dat gaarls and byes? Make you pant (gives you no mental respite) dawn it! I've said it before and I'll say it again, Bermewja really is another vuuurld...

Proud to be Bermudian

There's a song that, unsurprisingly, is getting a lot of airtime on the local airwaves out here in the triangle at the moment and it's called "Proud to be Bermudian." Feast your ears on this, it's a real grower...

So as I hit the snooze for the third time the other day and this came on the radio it got me thinking what does it mean to Bermudian. And yes, it is Bermudian and not Bermudan as Microsoft Office spell checker would have those of you not in the know believe. For almost every other race, there is a stereotype, but little ol' Bermuda doesn't have one of those. So I'd thought I'd put together a useful little profile for y'all, consisting of part verified statistics and part casual observation. Some here begin'eth this week's lecture.

So if you were the average Bermudian you are more likely to be black than white (the ratio at last count was 60:40) and female (it's 52% to 48% male). You'll be aged between 35-39. You're probably not married as the number of marriages has fallen by over 30% in the last decade, but if you do get married it'll more likely than not be before your 40th birthday. It is quite possible that your a single parent.

Your household income will be in the region of $53,000 a year and make your way to work from your home in Pembroke - the most densely populated parish. You probably work in a restaurant, hotel or shop.

Now for some more anecdotal statements. I bet you drive around in a Kia Sportage and whether you drive a car or ride a motorcycle, you'll be skilled in the art of holding your blackberry in one hand as you go.

You'll spend comparitively less time at the beach that your expat counterparts.

You are most likely to be a Christian and be found in church on Sundays and you also live by the Christian spirit by volunteering for a charity or maybe even founding one. Bermuda has a staggering volunteer population.

You're likely to be obese as a result of considering mac n cheese a side dish or one too many trips to KFC, and maybe even diabetic. Whatever your weight though I reckon you still take part in one of the many charity walks (there is one pretty much every weekend) and if not your at least sit and watch from the comfort of your fold out chair. You like sushi, particularly the tempura kind that comes with special sauce.

You call in regularly to radio talk shows or write to the paper to voice your opinion.

You'll be sporting Louis Vuitton arm candy regardless of your salary, your heels will be at least six inches and you experiment with nail art.

Sadly you probably know someone who has been shot with the escalating gun violence on the island.

You'll probably die in the April of your 79th year as a result of a circulatory disease or neoplasm.

Heroes, Heroines, Elmo & a Pirate

Here's a conundrum for y'all.... what do Elmo, three kites, soca music, a pirate, BELCO bird (the local energy company's mascot) and a lone jazz saxophonist have in common? Why of course, they were all part of Bermuda's Heroes' Day celebrations today at Fort St. Catherine's beach. To be honest I don't think it's supposed to make sense so I won't waste any time trying to explain it. But it was something to do on an overcast public holiday and I even managed to get some new tan lines. Bonus. 


As for the actual heroes, three more were named to join, up till now, Bermuda's only hero of Heroes' Day, Dame Lois Browne Evans.  Dame Lois broke many racial and gender barriers as the island's first female lawyer, black female MP and female Attorney General, so I guess she was a pretty hard act to match and indeed it's taken a few years to find some. At an official ceremony yesterday, the roles of trade union pioneer, Dr. E. F. Gordon; political, social and economic trailblazer Sir Henry Tucker and civil rights champion, Dr. Pauulu Kamarakego (Dr. Roosevelt Brown), in shaping modern Bermuda were recognised when they were inducted as national heroes.


Meanwhile, in honour of heroes closer to home, a number of father and son teams came together for the first-ever Father’s Day Barbeque Cook-off, which the organisers hope will become an annual event. A team from Flamz Bar & Grill brought home the bacon. Arguably with their too-hot-too-handle grilling skills, these contenders have done just as much to shape modern Bermuda as any politician, with an emphasis on the hips and belly. 

My hero award this week goes to HSBC (never thought I see the day I'd be saying that) following a corporate social responsibility project that is actually making a difference. Following an in-depth restoration project the bank helped open another acre of the beautiful Cooper’s Island Nature Reserve to the public. When you've only got 21 square miles to explore, another acre of adventure is a welcome addition. The reserve is home to my favourite beach, the imaginatively titled, Long Beach. I've leave you with a long (panoramic) photo in it's honour...

Whirlwind romance

Blogging hell!! Where does the time go? It's been 12 days since my last post and I don't even know how that happened - no vacay excuse or whirlwind romance (despite the title of this post) to blame this time. Just the usual heady cocktail of cocktails by the harbour, gym, tan, laundry, however as this isn't the Jersey Shore, there's also sadly been some work tucked in there. Boo. 


Since I last posted two of my close friends from home have had babies, which has got me thinking that I might never be able to have children. Panic not parentals, I'm joking I hope! Although as this blog is supposed to be my baby and my inability to feed it with posts and tend to its cries for attention has got me a little concerned that I may be a commitment-phobe. 


I am however once again in the throngs of my love affair with my island. We are like a celebrity couple, this time each year we renew our vows of undying love for each other before the winter brings it's inevitable rock(y) fever patch. Since we last spoke, summer has arrived in all its glory. My third, how did that happen?! So I'm fully versed with the way it works. Hence forth, no point ever spending any time on my hair, trying to dry myself after a shower, getting antsy about those pesky ants or even feigning mock surprise to find mould on any item of my summer wardrobe. These pursuits are fruitless and just detract from the pleasure of a warm summer evening's run along the little lanes with their pastel pink walled edged with white icing and passing the sands of time with a good read on one of the many the bitchin' beaches. 

Yes me and Bermuda are back in our honeymoon phase and appears there is more than two of us in this relationship. A lot more than two if this CNN.com article has anything to do with it. It list Bermuda alongside Fiji, French Polynesia, Italy and Bali as a hot honeymoon destination due to its combined "close-knit community feel and exotic flavor". In case you don't believe me (or CNN.com) about the beauty of Bermuda in full summer swing, check out this slide show that the site featured only last month.


This charming honeymoon pic of Lori & Johnny Inguanzo enjoying their honeymoon in Bermuda was entered into Elbow Beach hotel's recent Facebook page comp. All together now, arrrrhhhh!

But before the honeymoon comes the whirlwind romance, or to be more precise the start of hurricane season on June 1. Bermuda's stormy season lasts right up until the end of November and if the forecasts are anything to go by we are in for a rough ride! Multiple sources are predicting a busier than average season. The official US forecast, issued last month by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, was for 12-18 named storms, with 6-10 becoming hurricanes and 3-6 growing into major systems. 


But we're ready for ya! According to local insurer, the Argus Group, Bermuda's residents do a good job of making the necessary preparations to lessen the blow of hurricanes in terms of damage to people or property. The closest we came last year was the mighty Igor but we were lucky that it was downgraded to a Category 1 storm before it reached the island rather than the Category 3 that had been expected. 


I end with another tribute to Bermuda's island charm to woo wedding guests and honeymooners alike. Either that or a serious statement about the state of the local education system. Rose-tinted specs or prescription reading (and spelling) glasses required, you decide...

Wreckless Abandon

Some news in yesterday's Bermuda Sun that caught my eye (as anything film related does after my work with the Bermuda International Film Festival earlier this year) was that local TV production company, LookBermuda, is going to make a film exploring one of the island's many shipwrecks. The Mary-Celestia, a blockade-runner that sunk in mysterious circumstances during the American Civil War and now lies off Bermuda's south shore, is to be the subject of the documentary, which makers hope will wash up on the likes of National Geographic or PBS.

The wreck is one of Bermuda's most historic as it sunk in 1864 but has been the subject of extra interest ever since January when a corked bottle of wine was discovered in its bow. Some people will go to extraordinary lengths to get their hands on wine from a good year!

It's hoped that the film will really cement Bermuda's place as a must-do for divers and give the tourism offensive some buoyancy. The island is certainly a wreck mecca, with over 500 in its waters. I've been lucky enough to visit two, The Lartingdon and the Cristobal Colon, and it definitely beats the murky waters filled with sunken taxi cabs and pinball machines of Stoney Cove in the UK, where I did my BSAC training. Many of the wrecks are partially intact so you can actually visualise Kate Winslet and Leo DiCaprio once walking their decks. What's also great is that the history of many of the ships' skeletal remains have been extensively research so get an education as you dive (and a nifty certificate after telling the wreck's story so you can impress your friends with how much you learnt!).

Apparently most of the ships met their fate as a result of the 200 square miles of coral reef surrounding the island rather than the infamous Bermuda Triangle's influence.

This got me thinking of other things that have been lost at sea on their passage to Bermuda. Hmmm... sense of style. I've just returned from a much-needed break to Montreal and being in a city once more reminded me of just how un-cosmopolitan I have become in my dress-sense. Now Bermuda is no Banana Republic and has a sophisticated corporate community as an international business hub but still it is a hot and sweaty sub-tropical island after all so standards do drop. There's also a lack of choice and the expense involved updating one's wardrobe locally to contend with. I find myself kicking back in my Havianas most of time (outside of the office that is) but as durable as they are they don't quite cut it in the city when everyone else is donning posh little pumps and it rains for three days straight. I also lack any kind of jacket that isn't of the bright and shiny waterproof kind. I was definitely a fish out of water on the chic Quebecois streets.

And another thing that has failed to successfully wash up on Bermuda's shore is a sense of urgency. Oh yes, spend a week in civilisation and you realise just how much you've got used to being on island time. I'm not just talking about the Atlantic Standard time zone but the laissez-faire attitude of the locals. I noticed this most when waiting for my bus back to the airport at 5am at a stop 5 minutes from my guest house. Montreal peeps know its visitors have planes to catch and everything runs to time, works as it should according to the website and leaflets, and gladly accommodates your luggage. You notice the difference when you land in Bermuda for the first time and can't find any information about how to get out of the airport to save your life and even if you did you realise that the bus timetable was not designed with the flight schedule in mind. All logic and reason was sucked into that triangle along with many a shipping vessel or aircraft (as recent negative coverage of the current tourist bus fiasco will testify!).

Although I have to admit I'm as much a sucker for Bermuda's charm as I am a stickler for improving its inadequacies. You know you're in Bermuda when you pile into a taxi with all your bags, realise you haven't got any money, make the driver wait while you queue for a cashpoint and he still smiles and calls you honey. If you were in London, your bags would be in the middle of a puddle on the pavement. I have to say I also find it a much more pleasant experiencing being lulled to sleep by the chirping of a thousand tree frogs than the sounds of inner city life, inner city pressure - the boom of the street being power washed at 12.30am, the smashing of a Smirnoff bottle outside your window and sirens splitting every moment of serenity. Oh yes, paradise does have is undeniable pull factors...