A CHANGE OF PACE... Bermuda (Part 164o)

A CHANGE OF PACE… Bermuda (Part 164o)

It only took a few minutes for us to be driven to the center of the village. I thought we’d get out, thank the cabbie, and be on our way. It didn’t go like that at all. As I mentioned in the previous post the driver gave us a bit of the history of Bermuda on our trip from the hotel to the airport. It turns out that it all started in St. Georges… and we were about to get a lesson on it. I know we could’ve just gotten out of the cab and taken off… but, as a teacher, Elle had gotten into it so we sat there and listened. Not a history buff, I will admit it was interesting and, I still remember some of it.

It was settled by the English in the early 1600’s. The area where we were stopped was called King’s Square. A definite effort had been made to maintain it much the way it was  back then. The State House was pointed out to us and it was supposedly the original one that was built. Also in the square we replicas of the stocks and whipping station used to punish those who broke the laws. While we were parked we could see some tourists actually in the stocks and Elle made a point of saying she wanted a picture of me in them. The taxi driver added a bit of ‘flavor’ about the stocks and punishment when he said that while the person was locked in the stock villagers would come by and throw rotten garbage. Another punishment was exhibited and that was a ducking (or dunking) stool. It was originally in place at the water’s edge and the person so sentenced was strapped into a seat at the end of a long pole and then was lowered into the water. All of the punishments seemed pretty cruel to us. I think I remember being told that most the buildings around the Square were built in the 17th century. I asked about some of the antique things displayed around the Square and it was explained that a couple of times a year re-enactments of those times took place and used them. There was a view of the harbor from where we were stopped and it was a focal point for tourists. When told of that my hunger pangs took root and in exiting the cab I asked where the best pub for good English fish and chips was located. He pointed towards the wharf and wished us a safe trip home.

A look at my watch was a bit disturbing… we’d been sitting in the Square for almost an hour and we hadn’t done any sightseeing at all. I wouldn’t have known what an authentic pub looked like but the one we entered seemed like something from olden days. The server was in period dress and spoke with a definite cockney accent. I’d never had fish and chips so didn’t know what to expect. It was OK but not something I’d go out of my way to order. I’d jotted some notes while the cabby was talking and asked the server how to get to a few places on the list. We were asked if we had ‘bikes’ and when told that we didn’t we were advised to skip some of them. That was disappointing because I wanted to visit the fort. We wandered around the village and found that being Sunday most, if not all, stores were closed. (Remember, it’s 1968 and were in a British colony) Making our way to the outskirts we could see a few planes taking off from the airport. It was reminder to keep an eye on the time. Elle was thirsty so we stopped at another pub where I asked about getting a cab. The server looked at me kind of funny like and made an off-hand comment… something like “it’s Sunday” and shook his head. I explained that we needed to get to the airport by around 4:30pm. He asked which lodging we were at and I told him where we’d stayed. He continued to shake his head and told us that on Sundays the taxis only worked for the different hotels and guest cottages. That left me a little concerned so asked about public transportation. That brought fort a bit of a smile. Busses ran on the half hour during the week… approximately every 45 minutes on Saturdays and on Sunday… whenever they showed up. He was kind enough to tell us where the bus stops were located and we headed for the closest one.

I really don’t know how long it took before one showed up. I’m sure it was quicker than it seemed. We were delivered to the terminal in plenty of time to make our 5pm flight. When I went to the counter tossing in I was told there would be a delay… until 8pm. I asked why and got a long winded answer that I didn’t fully understand. Not being a regular flying passenger I was unaware of the congestion (air) around many of the more popular destinations. This was in the day without sophisticated computers to locate and track all flights and the result was too many planes would end up wanting to land at basically the same time. So… the planes had to fly around in circles until their ‘place in line’ was established. Our airline for the return trip was BOAC and corporate decided they didn’t want to waste fuel going around in circles so made the decision to wait so they had a better chance of just flying up there and landing when they did.

When Gertrude, our travel agent, was making all the arrangements I’d asked her to book us out of Bermuda as late as possible to give us more time. I remember her telling me that BOAC had the best food (back in those days we got real meals) and that on a 5pm flight we’d get a dinner. But, now we weren’t going to be leaving for over 3 hours. I’m not going to say I was broke but I hadn’t planned on paying for a meal. Before I could get upset an announcement was made over the PA system explaining that the airline would pay for our meal at the airport restaurant. They asked for a little time to get prepared to feed around 100 people that they hadn’t planned on. BOAC set up a lottery system to stagger the seating so we could all be accommodated and by 6pm the first were being served. Fortunately, we were among the first. Fish and chips don’t go a long way as far as sustenance goes.

By 7:45pm we were all on board and ready to go. The plane taxied out to the runway and we could see the last vestiges of light on the horizon. And then we watched that last bit of light disappear… and we sat… and sat.When the plane started moving a big cheer went up but we didn’t go very far. Finally, an announcement. A line of squalls was buffeting the coast and the center of it was focused on our destination. Elle had never been comfortable on any of the flights she’d been on with me and hearing that news put her ‘on edge’. I never looked at my watch when we finally took off. I just held Elle’s sweaty hand and kept telling her that planes fly through storms all the time. It wasn’t like I was a seasoned traveler but the look on her face told me she needed to re assured. We hadn’t been in the air for long when the stewardess came down the aisle telling us they’d be serving dinner, not what a lot of people wanted to hear. However, the meal we were served at the airport wasn’t all that much and I was hungry. Elle couldn’t even think about food and when the tray came she turned away. It turned out to be a filet mignon… and was pretty good. That was the last thing good about that flight.

To be continued…