Bermuda: Parrots, Parrot Fish, Horses, Dogs and The Pink Panther

I had to laugh when I picked up a travel brochure in our Airbnb room that included an “Insider’s Guide” to restaurants and other tame fare. Insider? Yeah, me and 4 million other readers. I prefer face to face for insider information when I travel. Like when in St George’s (The city we recommend most due to its historic district.) hubby and I met the owner of a store filled with sails and rigging undergoing repair. He was gracious enough to put up with our wide-eyed questions about his career. He told us he had built a ship from scratch and had repaired ships for all of his life. Meanwhile,a parrot placidly pacing the floor colored the encounter with the bird’s evocation of sea adventures and dark types like pirates. I found out later that at least the parrot had its dark side, as someone in town told us it had bit their friend on the finger they so foolishly presented in an effort to make friends with it. Note: parrots do not act like dogs.

Somehow the conversation drifted towards food, that staple of conversation between tourists and locals, and when we mentioned our intention to eat at Munchies next door, he said he eats there every day. Now that is what I call insider info about a restaurant. Sure enough if you like fish and informality and are going to St. George’s, then you can eat there overlooking the water and perhaps see parrot fish, a colorful protected species. After we charmed the owner by telling him about our visit with the sail maker who recommended this restaurant to us, he made sure we could see the parrot fish by throwing them some food to attract them to come close up. The fish that are not protected such as wahoo get delivered right off the boat at the restaurant’s entrance which is yards away from the harbor and soon end up in a patron’s stomach.

My spirits were pretty high after talking with the owner of Ocean Sails Custom Canvas and Upholstery, 60 Water St., as it says on his card, and eating at Munchies, but when we went to the Bermuda Historical Society Museum, the curator there said to my husband Steve, “I think you and your mother are going to like this exhibit.” Note I was the only other person present that she could have been referring to. This also triggered an unwanted memory of Steve’s guest visit to an English as a Second Language class I was teaching at Hudson County Community College in New Jersey, and the students asked me questions about “my son.” Maybe they thought we gringos look all alike and its hard to tell how old we are. Humph! At least Steve had a thoroughly red beard and no grey hair then.

You might think our Bermuda trip didn’t go so well, especially when I mention prices at the grocery. Americans will shut up about inflation when they see that a small package of blueberries cost $21.95. And a box of cereal was about $10. Most of the food has to be imported, thus the prices. We had a look at what other shoppers were buying to survive, and we got a large tub of hummus to go with some bread.

But I got a kick out of all the animals we saw, including another parrot, named Jake at the B and B who got to eat breakfast daily in the company of the owner, sometimes to music. One day she was playing a whistled rendition of the Pink Panther Theme Song intended for coaching parrots to imitate it. I kid you not. Here it is if you are skeptical or want to train your parrot: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K5UY_-WDNCo

At the 83^rd annual Ag Show, we saw beginning level horses hesitating to pass beyond a barrier, even one that was level with the ground!

In cars we saw dogs poking their faces out of the driver’s side–no wait, wait, Bermudians drive on the left, but for that one second of forgetting there they were, tongues hanging out and enjoying the mild but humid weather, (temps were in the low seventies but the humidity was 80%) as if saying, “Don’t worry about a thing; everything is under control.” And yes, the views of the turquoise water were magnificent and the flowers and types of trees were so abundant the whole island was like one giant botanical garden.

I could even forgive the son incident even though Steve’s beard now has its shades of grey. Well! As the grand finale of the trip, upon getting off the plane back in Newark and walking down the corridor, personnel poised at the ready with wheelchairs asked if I needed one. I curtly shook my head and hustled down that corridor with my most athletic-looking strides, with Steve mumbling, “You don’t look THAT decrepit or anything”.

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