Bermuda shorts
Well, I've arrived back on terra firma after an interesting two and a half weeks in Bermuda. We had a horrific journey over there, which involved being delayed in Lima, missing our connection in Miami, where we had to pay for out hotel, and then getting diverted via New York, which meant we arrived a day late on the island.
Those delays should have prepared me for island time, even if almost three years in Lima hadn't drilled into me the fact that some people simply have a different way of assessing how time passes. Tempus certainly doesn't fugit in Bermuda and we learnt this to our disappointment as we tried to chase up our immigration bid. I don't want to go into too much detail now, because I just get stressed every time I think about it, but we still don't have a visa for me and the accommodation that we are supposed to be staying in may well not be ready before we need it, even though Jon is working his socks off in his new found guise of Chief Officer turned Chief Renovator/Builder to make sure it is.
Aside from the strange other worldy assessment of time that occurs out there in the middle of the Atlantic, Bermuda is a pleasant enough place. Granted, it's the most expensive place in terms of cost of living, you have to pay duty on everything you take into the country -- aside from used clothes and books -- and the cruise ship passengers who invade with a scary frequency think they own the island. But it is very pretty and the people, on the whole, are very very friendly. We met some wonderful people and I think we could be very happy there, so fingers crossed that immigration and the charity Jon is working for come up with the goods.
The island, or islands as they actually are, have a strange mixture of oldy worldy English charm and rather more modern American elements. Many of the houses look colonial and are painted in the bright colours found further south in the Caribbean. The accents are a bizarre mix of English, American and Caribbean, which certainly made for some amusing conversations when we used words they had never heard of. What is nice is that people are genuinely cheery and wish each other a good morning, whether it be stranger or friend.
As I mentioned in an earlier posting, the people on the island are called Onions, which may be because they used to grow lots of them. Anyway, there was a cool restaurant bar on the island called the Pickled Onion and although I couldn't indulge in the kind of drinks that might make me pickled, it was fun. By the way, I particularly like Fairy Godmother's comments about the possibility of our baby being called Onion Barjee if he or she is born in Bermuda to a sailor father.
I was happy to find that the supermarkets -- even if they are going to cost us $250 a week for a rather modest shop - have such things as pickled onions (not the proper English kind though) Jelly Babies and Marmite and other American treats like pickled gherkins, which was great when all of a sudden a couple of weeks ago, I fell for that old pregnancy cliche of needing pickles to eat. I'd had ice cream a couple of days earlier. Aside from that, I haven't really had any cravings, perhaps something to do with the rather nasty bout of food poisoning I managed to acquire somewhere between Lima and Bermuda that stayed with me for almost a week.....nice..
Well, am now at almost 22 weeks of pregnancy and passed the half-way mark while in Bermuda. At almost exactly that point, I began to feel Jelly Bean kicking for the first time, which was very exciting for both me and Jon when he finally managed to feel it a few days later. I know the movements will only get more frequent and stronger, but for now it's nice to have a sign that I am actually pregnant, apart from the expanding tummy, of course.
I go to the doctor tomorrow, only after spending a late night reporting on the presidential debate that takes place here tonight ahead of the elections on June 4...should be interesting, but looks like the former president may well be whitewashing the nationalist former army officer who won the first round so convincingly as he's such a better speaker.
Ho hum...better go and do some work.
Love to you all.
H xxxx
Those delays should have prepared me for island time, even if almost three years in Lima hadn't drilled into me the fact that some people simply have a different way of assessing how time passes. Tempus certainly doesn't fugit in Bermuda and we learnt this to our disappointment as we tried to chase up our immigration bid. I don't want to go into too much detail now, because I just get stressed every time I think about it, but we still don't have a visa for me and the accommodation that we are supposed to be staying in may well not be ready before we need it, even though Jon is working his socks off in his new found guise of Chief Officer turned Chief Renovator/Builder to make sure it is.
Aside from the strange other worldy assessment of time that occurs out there in the middle of the Atlantic, Bermuda is a pleasant enough place. Granted, it's the most expensive place in terms of cost of living, you have to pay duty on everything you take into the country -- aside from used clothes and books -- and the cruise ship passengers who invade with a scary frequency think they own the island. But it is very pretty and the people, on the whole, are very very friendly. We met some wonderful people and I think we could be very happy there, so fingers crossed that immigration and the charity Jon is working for come up with the goods.
The island, or islands as they actually are, have a strange mixture of oldy worldy English charm and rather more modern American elements. Many of the houses look colonial and are painted in the bright colours found further south in the Caribbean. The accents are a bizarre mix of English, American and Caribbean, which certainly made for some amusing conversations when we used words they had never heard of. What is nice is that people are genuinely cheery and wish each other a good morning, whether it be stranger or friend.
As I mentioned in an earlier posting, the people on the island are called Onions, which may be because they used to grow lots of them. Anyway, there was a cool restaurant bar on the island called the Pickled Onion and although I couldn't indulge in the kind of drinks that might make me pickled, it was fun. By the way, I particularly like Fairy Godmother's comments about the possibility of our baby being called Onion Barjee if he or she is born in Bermuda to a sailor father.
I was happy to find that the supermarkets -- even if they are going to cost us $250 a week for a rather modest shop - have such things as pickled onions (not the proper English kind though) Jelly Babies and Marmite and other American treats like pickled gherkins, which was great when all of a sudden a couple of weeks ago, I fell for that old pregnancy cliche of needing pickles to eat. I'd had ice cream a couple of days earlier. Aside from that, I haven't really had any cravings, perhaps something to do with the rather nasty bout of food poisoning I managed to acquire somewhere between Lima and Bermuda that stayed with me for almost a week.....nice..
Well, am now at almost 22 weeks of pregnancy and passed the half-way mark while in Bermuda. At almost exactly that point, I began to feel Jelly Bean kicking for the first time, which was very exciting for both me and Jon when he finally managed to feel it a few days later. I know the movements will only get more frequent and stronger, but for now it's nice to have a sign that I am actually pregnant, apart from the expanding tummy, of course.
I go to the doctor tomorrow, only after spending a late night reporting on the presidential debate that takes place here tonight ahead of the elections on June 4...should be interesting, but looks like the former president may well be whitewashing the nationalist former army officer who won the first round so convincingly as he's such a better speaker.
Ho hum...better go and do some work.
Love to you all.
H xxxx
posted by Peliroja at
1:40 pm
1 Comments:
Hey Han
Keep smiling about the Bermuda situation, I'm sure it'll all work out.
Was very amused that you are blaming poor Jelly Bean on your need to eat pickled onions - but I must point out that this is not a new craving caused by pregnancy - you have had 28 pickle obsessed years!!!!!!!
Take care little cuz xxxx
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Anonymous, at 12:33 pm
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