Waiting For My Man or Purgatory in Paradise

Here was the plan. Have a massive party. Sail away from the dancing to Bermuda.  Ondine crewed by James, myself and a bunch of his squash buddies. The squash players also heading to a tournament on the island. Another squash friend would fly to Bermuda with the kids.  James would play in the tournament, and our adventure would begin on a high note.

Well we had the party. Then Mother Nature felt that it was important that we understand from the outset how our relationship is going to work. She is in charge.  A seasonally unusual off-shore storm blew in.  We had to wait it out. For a week!  I ended up flying to Bermuda with the kids. While James scrambled to find crew and waited for a weather window.

So here I am in Bermuda waiting for my man. My mind is filled with images of woman waiting on rocky cliffs for their sailors to return.

Of course, these women are waiting in cold, unforgiving European or North Eastern landscapes, not an island paradise.

Bermuda is beautiful and (mostly) warm. We are doing are best to be “on vacation”.  We have been to the Aquarium/Zoo.  We have taken a bus into town, which is quite an undertaking. You need to have hard-to-find tokens or exact change.  In our case seven dollars in coins per trip.  (It was an emergency we had to get more Horrid Henry stories and a bucket and spade.) We’ve seen the cave at Grotto Bay and eaten at The Swizzle Inn.  I have sampled both local cocktails, The Dark & Stormy and The Swizzle. (Dark and Stormy gets my vote.)

But the waiting is hard. There is something about waiting for our ship to come in that adds a certain anxious listlessness to everything we do.

We are anxious about what is happening on Ondine. (Snatched sat phone calls and track me updates indicate everything is fine.)  We are anxious for Ondine to arrive and for our life on board to begin. The waiting seems to sap us of energy and leave us exhausted  (the kids have been getting in a lot of last minute Hanna-Barbara).  It doesn’t help ones sense of inertia that doing anything in Bermuda is breathtakingly expensive  (we’ve been eating a lot of popcorn).

The thing that seems to help the most is also a Bermuda’s greatest asset: it’s beaches.

We had our best day when we finally got it together to make it to Shelly Bay. The small beach is a short but terrifying walk (Bermuda has no sidewalks) from the Brightside Apartments, where we’re staying.

There is nothing like a beach to soothe an anxious soul.

Now I have gotten hold of a book of bus tickets (who knew bus tickets could bring such freedom and joy) we are planning to spend what time we have left waiting on the beach.

Update: He arrived safely!  Before I could post this. The family green is happily reunited. Ondine is anchored in St. George’s Bay.

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