Well, here I am, in sunny Hamilton, Bermuda. I’ve been here a couple of days, so it’s time
for some first impressions, I think.
First of all, contrary to popular belief, Bermuda is not in
the Caribbean. In fact it’s about a
thousand miles north-east of the nearest recognizable Caribbean island, and
actually lies some 450 miles due east of Cape Hatteras in North Carolina. So it’s a pretty isolated speck of land. And speck is not an exaggeration: the island
(in fact, group of islands) measures a mere 21 square miles in area, and since
from its most easterly point to its most westerly is just 20 miles (according
to Arthur, my local cabbie who picked me up at the airport), it’s rarely more
than a mile across. In many places, the
distance is mere yards, and the Atlantic is clearly visible on both sides. Viewed from the air or Google Maps, the
island has a roughly fish-hook shape, with a scattering of islets around the
perimeter and a larger one settled in the main bay area (so in the curve of the
fish-hook).
Yet despite its miniscule size, there are about 400 miles of
roads – by which I’m referring to proper, honest-to-God tarmacked roads, not
unpaved tracks. Most of them, even in
the capital Hamilton, are very narrow and winding and undulating – it’s a surprisingly
hilly place – and there seem to be few footpaths alongside. My hotel is a ten minute walk from the
office, on the edge of town, and at least a third of the distance is walking
along the side of the road, hugging boundary fences and hedgerows to avoid
being mown down. It reminds me of some
of the lovely Cornish lanes I used to drive on vacations many years ago.
This little rock also houses a population of around 65,000. Again, refer to Google Maps, and this time
view in satellite mode. The entire island
appears to be covered in white dots, as if God has flicked a celestial
paintbrush overhead and scattered droplets of emulsion over the place. Zoom in and you will see that these dots are
in fact buildings – houses, hotels, warehouses, offices and so on. Apart from the beach areas, a handful of
parks and sports grounds, and a golf course or two, there is precious little
free land area at all. So there is very
limited agriculture, no orchards, no potato crops, nothing. There is a small dairy farm and that’s about
it. Everything has to be imported – and
so everything is expensive.
Until 1948 or thereabouts, there were only a handful of cars
on the island, and most of those were owned and run by the government - police
force, ambulances and so forth. There
was a small railway line running around both north and south coasts, linking
Hamilton with the more remote (if that’s the right word) areas, but hardly any
private cars. But as the population
grew, and its offshore banking and tourism industries expanded with post-war
American affluence, the government changed things around a little. The railway was closed down (today the tracks
form a jogging and cycling path around some of the most beautiful parts of
Bermuda), roads were built, and private citizens were allowed to buy cars. But strict limits were imposed that stand to
this day – only one vehicle per household and a 25kph speed limit
island-wide. Given the nature of the
roads, this is no bad thing. Motor
scooters are very popular too, and seem to outnumber cars around the city, and
so are bicycles. Helmets are mandatory for
both, including for passengers on the scooters, and using seatbelts in cars and
taxis is likewise a must. There are no
hire cars on the island, which is just as well, so if you want to get around
under your own steam you need to hire a scooter or a bike, or use the bus and
taxi networks. I plan to rent a bike at
the weekend and explore a bit….which could be fun.
The people are very friendly indeed. Walking around town, between hotel and bank,
or around the shops, complete strangers flash you a broad smile and a jaunty “Good
morning, how are you today?” It all
makes a change from surly London commuters barging past you on the steps of
Bank station, or crazy Warsaw drivers cutting you up on the school-run. Even the beggars here are friendly and
polite: “Lovely day today, sir. Can you
spare me a dollar for a coffee please?” Well,
a buck certainly won’t buy a coffee, but I’d rather be asked politely like that
than some of the confrontations I’ve had over the years, in cities everywhere. I was actually surprised to find homeless
people and street beggars here, given how wealthy Bermuda is, but they exist as
they do everywhere – and if that’s not a sad indictment of 21st
Century Planet Earth I don’t know what is.
Bermuda is a Crown Territory, and its Britishness is evident
everywhere. You drive (albeit
s-l-o-w-l-y) on the correct side of the road.
The road markings and traffic lights and pedestrian crossings are
British style. The buses are the same as
the ones in Oxford and Edinburgh and Gravesend – no bendy buses here (the roads
couldn’t take them). Among the normal
international brand stores like adidas and Benetton there is a Marks &
Spencer, a shop called The English Sports Shop, a Red Lion pub (and of course
the inevitable Flanagan’s Irish Sports Bar).
In the food court at the mall close to the office you can buy delicious
looking chicken and mushroom or steak and vegetable pies – and of course pizza
and pasta and sushi and oodles of fresh fish dishes. There is Weetabix and Colman’s Mustard in the
supermarket. All very homely, apart from
the weather which is much better.
The island lies in the Gulf Stream, so the sea is warm as is
the year-round climate – blue skies and fluffy white clouds and plenty of
sun. But it’s not excessively Caribbean
hot – so far this week around the mid-20s: very comfortable and pleasant. It’s also on the edge of the hurricane belt,
and sometimes catches storms of Biblical proportions (although rarely a direct
hit). That said it will be just my luck to be here for the first hurricane in
years……now that WOULD be something to write about!
What else? Oh, yes –
dress code. Shorts are de riguer here –
the world famous Bermuda shorts.
Everyone wears them, and very natty they are too. They are perfectly acceptable at work,
provided they are a single colour (no lairy patterns or loud flowery designs
here) – the most popular colour is pink, which is the national colour. They are worn with dark knee-length socks, black
business shoes and a normal shirt and tie (and sometimes a jacket or blazer for
important meetings). Many people at the
bank wear them, and I have to say it actually looks very smart in an English
sort of way. One guy there is French, so
of course he has to be different: khaki shorts, a check shirt, no tie, and
sailing shoes with no socks. My
colleagues and I have agreed that in a couple of weeks we too will join in the
fun - they are leaving for home visits
next week so will bring suitable gear with them on their return. I may well invest before then…… A couple of weeks ago I wrote and published a
piece on LinkedIn (advice for new consultants – how to survive life on the
road) and one of the key points is to
blend in with the locals. So shorts it
is – I can hardly not follow my own advice!
So there we go. My
initial thought is this a cool place and I’ll enjoy my time here. There is the obvious caveat that so far all I’ve
seen is a surprisingly shabby airport, the road into Hamilton, my hotel and the
office, and a couple of shops. I’ve not
visited a beach yet – I’m told they are stunning and the best in the world - ,
nor a pub; I’ve not hired a bike or caught a bus. All that is to come, starting this
weekend.
Watch this space….
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