17th - 18th June 2018
There is an amusing and eclectic choice of bars and restaurants on the islands. One of which is over the long causeway south of St. David's Island (the island which is home to the airport) at Blue Hole Hill called The Swizzle Inn (left). This popular bar/restaurant is famous for serving Bermuda's national cocktail the 'Rum Swizzle'. It consists of dark rum & sickly stuff and looked quite revolting. I never tried it. The other favoured national drink is the 'Dark 'n Stormy'; another dark rum and ginger ale concoction which I did try and which is, indeed, revolting (according to me!). I stuck to beer, wine and rum &soda.
Inside (right), the pub is festooned with business/visiting cards and foreign bank notes. I added to the collection. The food there is quite good and 'relatively' inexpensive with very jolly staff.
By the by and before I forget, another watering hole we used to frequent in St. George's, and which provided excellent food and wine, is 'Wahoo's Bistro' on Water Street, on the waterfront. The owner is a vastly amusing German (I think) called Kaiser Wolf (I think) and he is a great host. Delicious Weiner Schnitzels amongst other things on the menu. He kept us going with 'freebie' Jagermeisters. Worth a visit if you're passing by.
There are some mighty impressive stalactites and stalagmites on display. You go down about 150 steps and the underground lake is, we were told, 55ft deep. I did both caverns. The second, called 'Fantasy,' which is, frankly, much the same as the first but the name encourages you to pay for the extra visit!
Then on to one of two golf courses which are situated adjacent to one another. As mentioned previously, I think, there are 7 golf courses on this small island; 5 of which are of International Competition standard. The first I visited was Tucker's Point south of Castle Harbour. Difficult to get a photo of a golf course (too big) but rest assured these are beautifully manicured and challengingly contoured courses. The other being Mid-Ocean. Left: The elegant Clubhouse bar at Tucker's Point.
Right: Even a few pets were appropriately kitted out.
Left: The girls were always willing to pose with interlopers.
..........and they came in all shapes and sizes. Difficult to tell which was front or back in some cases.
Left: A rather serious and well dressed marcher.
I went back for the return trip. Same as before but in the opposite direction. They didn't seem any the worse for their lunchtime refreshments. Perhaps the music from the billion-megawatt speakers on the floats had become just a little louder.
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| A colourful Carnival Queen |
Many, if not most, private houses in St. George's display a 'BEWARE OF THE DOG' sign. The curious thing is I never saw, or heard, any of the dogs in question. I have a sneaking suspicion that they were bluffing! I contemplated calling in at one of these houses and announcing myself as the 'Local Official for Canine Affairs' and asking, politely, to see their Dog Licence and to check that their guard dog was in good health; perhaps including that the Town Council is conducting a survey of the dog population. Needless to say I didn't get round to doing it...but it might have proved interesting.
There is an amusing and eclectic choice of bars and restaurants on the islands. One of which is over the long causeway south of St. David's Island (the island which is home to the airport) at Blue Hole Hill called The Swizzle Inn (left). This popular bar/restaurant is famous for serving Bermuda's national cocktail the 'Rum Swizzle'. It consists of dark rum & sickly stuff and looked quite revolting. I never tried it. The other favoured national drink is the 'Dark 'n Stormy'; another dark rum and ginger ale concoction which I did try and which is, indeed, revolting (according to me!). I stuck to beer, wine and rum &soda.
Inside (right), the pub is festooned with business/visiting cards and foreign bank notes. I added to the collection. The food there is quite good and 'relatively' inexpensive with very jolly staff. 
They have a Dress Code (left). I think I passed, although I'm not sure what 'baggies' or 'skullies' are and I made doubly sure that my underwear was well concealed. No mention of disgraceful socks and shoes with shorts, so I got away with that. Bare feet?!
By the by and before I forget, another watering hole we used to frequent in St. George's, and which provided excellent food and wine, is 'Wahoo's Bistro' on Water Street, on the waterfront. The owner is a vastly amusing German (I think) called Kaiser Wolf (I think) and he is a great host. Delicious Weiner Schnitzels amongst other things on the menu. He kept us going with 'freebie' Jagermeisters. Worth a visit if you're passing by.
After the Swizzle Inn, I swozzled out and set off on my scooter to investigate a couple of the smart golf courses in the area. On the way I passed a sign pointing to the Crystal Caves, so I decided to investigate. Apparently, in 1907 a boy lost his football down a hole in the ground and decided to go down, by rope, to retrieve it. He made the discovery of the first of two limestone caverns which are now a popular tourist sites. Goodness knows how he managed to get out. It is, without lighting, pitch dark down there (as was demonstrated) and flooded.
There are some mighty impressive stalactites and stalagmites on display. You go down about 150 steps and the underground lake is, we were told, 55ft deep. I did both caverns. The second, called 'Fantasy,' which is, frankly, much the same as the first but the name encourages you to pay for the extra visit!
Then on to one of two golf courses which are situated adjacent to one another. As mentioned previously, I think, there are 7 golf courses on this small island; 5 of which are of International Competition standard. The first I visited was Tucker's Point south of Castle Harbour. Difficult to get a photo of a golf course (too big) but rest assured these are beautifully manicured and challengingly contoured courses. The other being Mid-Ocean. Left: The elegant Clubhouse bar at Tucker's Point.
I found out that they are rather expensive to play, and I know bugger-all about golf.
The little roads around this neck of the woods are maze-like, and the signage is, to say the least, confusing. Having popped in at the Rosewood Hotel ($5,000,000 per night or thereabouts) near the golf courses and overlooking this charming little cove (right), I saw a sign pointing towards the Rosewood Beach Club. I decided to investigate. After going round in circles for a while, and asking for directions, I eventually found it and it looked a very pleasant watering hole on the beach. I parked my scooter in the vehicle park.
I then saw that there was an entry kiosk manned/womanned by a hatchet faced female watch-dog where 'members' were being asked to show their membership cards.
So pointless, I thought, and merely a small challenge for us professional 'blaggers'. This place is on a beach for goodness sake. All I had to do was walk further away, go down to the beach and walk along it to the Club, bypassing the kiosk.
It has a pleasant bar and I ordered a beer. I was asked for my membership number to be billed. I said I didn't have one so the charming barman said "well, we don't take cash so just sign this receipt and we'll sort it out later". I told him I didn't have a pen, so he gave me a rather smart silver one. He served me the beer and told me I could keep the pen. I spent a bit of time in the bar watching another World Cup footer match then went back the way I had come. I still have the pen. I will return it when I go back to pay the bill.
Next day was Carnival Day which involved a parade of floats on St. David's island. This is a relatively new event on the island. Although the island is 'British' in history and tradition and still celebrates the Queen's birthday, as they did with a parade in Hamilton earlier, there is a growing appetite amongst the black population to become 'Caribbean' in outlook.
The parade consisted of a mile long convoy of floats blasting out deafening music which were accompanied by crowds of 'revellers' dressed up in colourful feathery outfits. They set off along the route cavorting and posing (for the likes of me). It was a hot day and, as I soon discovered, the few cafés and bars along it did not sell alcohol. It was banned for the day. No beer! A man could die for lack of it under these conditions. Many of the locals had, wisely (they knew the form), set up picnic tables and were presumably well supplied with suitable refreshment. I was not.
Left: There were some very elaborately costumed ladies on display.
The little roads around this neck of the woods are maze-like, and the signage is, to say the least, confusing. Having popped in at the Rosewood Hotel ($5,000,000 per night or thereabouts) near the golf courses and overlooking this charming little cove (right), I saw a sign pointing towards the Rosewood Beach Club. I decided to investigate. After going round in circles for a while, and asking for directions, I eventually found it and it looked a very pleasant watering hole on the beach. I parked my scooter in the vehicle park.
I then saw that there was an entry kiosk manned/womanned by a hatchet faced female watch-dog where 'members' were being asked to show their membership cards.
So pointless, I thought, and merely a small challenge for us professional 'blaggers'. This place is on a beach for goodness sake. All I had to do was walk further away, go down to the beach and walk along it to the Club, bypassing the kiosk.
It has a pleasant bar and I ordered a beer. I was asked for my membership number to be billed. I said I didn't have one so the charming barman said "well, we don't take cash so just sign this receipt and we'll sort it out later". I told him I didn't have a pen, so he gave me a rather smart silver one. He served me the beer and told me I could keep the pen. I spent a bit of time in the bar watching another World Cup footer match then went back the way I had come. I still have the pen. I will return it when I go back to pay the bill.
Next day was Carnival Day which involved a parade of floats on St. David's island. This is a relatively new event on the island. Although the island is 'British' in history and tradition and still celebrates the Queen's birthday, as they did with a parade in Hamilton earlier, there is a growing appetite amongst the black population to become 'Caribbean' in outlook.The parade consisted of a mile long convoy of floats blasting out deafening music which were accompanied by crowds of 'revellers' dressed up in colourful feathery outfits. They set off along the route cavorting and posing (for the likes of me). It was a hot day and, as I soon discovered, the few cafés and bars along it did not sell alcohol. It was banned for the day. No beer! A man could die for lack of it under these conditions. Many of the locals had, wisely (they knew the form), set up picnic tables and were presumably well supplied with suitable refreshment. I was not.
Left: There were some very elaborately costumed ladies on display.
Right: Even a few pets were appropriately kitted out.
Left: The girls were always willing to pose with interlopers.
..........and they came in all shapes and sizes. Difficult to tell which was front or back in some cases.
Left: A rather serious and well dressed marcher.
They marched, danced and cavorted slowly one way from about 11.00am to 1.00pm and then went for a communal lunch on a piece of open ground near the airport. I took this opportunity to go and find a bar for some emergency refuelling.
I went back for the return trip. Same as before but in the opposite direction. They didn't seem any the worse for their lunchtime refreshments. Perhaps the music from the billion-megawatt speakers on the floats had become just a little louder.
Left: Another jolly group.
Right: More of the same. I got carried away and took far too many photos. It was a most colourful display and the participants had obviously gone to great lengths, effort, not to mention expense, to dress up for the occasion.
The whole affair was conducted with great efficiency, charm and happiness and absolutely no drunken or drug fuelled bad behaviour so favoured by some of our debauched Western imitations. Even the smiley local police entered into the spirit of the occasion and were very helpful; in my case when finding somewhere to park and where to go. All credit deserved.
Left: I spoke to this guy. He is a bus driver in real life.
Interestingly, at Wahoo's later that evening, I commented to a local white Bermudian that there were very few white folk attending this carnival. The reply was that white Bermudians are not that keen on what they see as the 'Caribbeanisation' of Bermuda. Bermuda is not Caribbean! Not yet a problem maybe, but potentially the cause of some disquiet.
So that was the Carnival. A jolly day out despite lack of beer. Probably good for me.
I think I will be off on a trip to the capital, Hamilton, next.
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