The Story Behind the Travel Photo: Bermuda Adventure With a Stranger
- Feb 23
- 6 min read
Updated: Feb 25
I was trying to be as normal as I could while visiting Bemuda, but when you're in a country for the first time, when you're a travel blogger, when you're a travel photographer, when you're a content creator, it's hard to walk around tying to blend in with the locals while you're carrying a camera. And I don't mean just my phone but a full-fledged camera.
It was our first time to Bermuda and we decided to stay for three days. It wasn't long, but then Bermuda isn't cheap. And it can have a decidedly short travel season, so we wanted to go in the summer. Many people think Bermuda far down in the Caribbean, but since it's actually more north, almost parallel with the Carolinas, you'd be surprise about the weather: it can be about 64º F (18º C) in the winter. Certainly much warmer than those of us from more northern areas, but not actually tropical. And then there is always the threat of storms and hurricanes, which makes the cruising season limited. No matter, we were here and we were going to see as much as we could, while saving a little for a second trip.
We started our journey by taking a ferry from the Royal Naval Dockyard to St. George. From there we caught a bus to Hamilton, not named for Alexander, by the way, who was born in St. Nevis, but rather for General Henry Hamilton. It was a workday, mid-morning, July. People nodded as we passed by, but they were going about their daily lives, ducking out of office buildings for a quick coffee and then quickly going back to work.
We walked around seeing the normal sites: libraries, churches, museums, government buildings. There was some shopping: the typical touristy merch but there were some local stores, too. Bermudians (what many locals call themselves) dress well: prices were high. In fact, prices were high with many things, as is the case of island nations. Everything has to be brought in by plane or ship from the mainlands, whether merchandise is coming from America or Europe.
I quickly decided that the wardrobe I had packed was good enough, but I do like to see what others are wearing to help guide my choices in the future. And as for the Bermuda shorts: yup, they are definitely the national dress there, even for work. Stylish short pants, fashionable long socks, classic shoes, short sleeved shirt and a hat to protect yourself from the sun and you're good to go. The pants/shorts are well cut, classic, always in fashion, which accounts for the high prices (along with the fact they they're imported). Once you buy your clothes, they will last you for more than a few seasons.
It was while we were sitting the Hamilton, Bermuda City Hall, that a local woman approached us: are you visiting (thank goodness she didn't call us tourists)? Yes, we're from New York and we were just looking at the bus info to get us back to the ship. We wanted to take the bus because we would be able to see more of the island on the way. We didn't mind calling a cab, but we also didn't mind taking the bus: we still had some time before our excursion in the evening.
What time is your excursion? I can take you back to the dockyard and we can see some sites along the way, she said. Two hardcore New Yorkers looked at each other. Really, did she think we were that gullible. She caught our look. I'm originally from here, but I used to live in Brooklyn for a while. Ok, now she's trying to lower our defenses, be friendly and talk about something we have in common. But then, something clicked. We kept talking, we bonded a bit and before we knew it, we looked at each other and said, Maybe this is possible. Hazel (not her real name) looked trustworthy. Then she showed us her work ID. I work for the government, I can't do anything wrong.
Now, as a result of our traveling, we have spoken with locals so many times that we knew that under the surface of those musical accents, the broad smiles, the welcoming atmosphere, the friendly vibes, many island nations have tough criminal codes. As one person explained to us, being on a an island creates a sense of isolation, you're stuck with one another. You have to try to get along: moving to another city and state is not as easy to do like it is in the USA. Running away from your problems after creating havoc or trying to start over is expensive, although curiously enough, I have yet to meet anyone who lives in the Caribbean or other island nations close to the US who does not have a relative that lives in New York or Florida. Petty crimes occur, of course, and yes, tourists are a definite target.
Hazel was trustworthy. And she wanted to duck out of work. She went inside City Hall and clocked out and then went to get her car. And then, simply out of the goodness of her heart and because she just wanted to make new friends, she gave us a personal tour of some of the sites to see in Bermuda.
In the back seat, I started fumbling in my bag to see how much cash I brought we me for the day. Like many other travelers, we use cards to buy goods and services, even though there may be some fees, it's just faster and safer. But just like at home, there are times when you need cash: some public transportation, street vendors, small souvenir stands, even some highly recommended eating spots.
We chatted, we connected, we laughed, we enjoyed ourselves. It was unquestionably the craziest thing we had ever done while traveling. Accepting complimentary food, beverages or upgrades in a location was one thing: getting in a car with a complete stranger simply based on instinct is another. We lived like a Bermuda local for a few hours.
And before you ask: no, we probably would not ever do this again. It was a once in a lifetime incident, one of those stories you tell when reminiscing, right up there with dropping your old school iPod off a cruise ship or missing a plane in Italy. I don't know what possessed Hazel to approach us (she had never done anything like that) and what possessed us to accept.
Hazel snuck us into a restricted Bermuda resort where a friend of hers worked. While she chatted with her friend, we saw a little of the resort. And snapped a photo, of course. And we were able to see the famous Gibbs Hill Lighthouse, which would be stop on a regular bus tour. We decided to climb it on another trip.
Soon, it was time to get back to the Royal Dockyard. Hazel graciously took us all the way to the Dockyard, instead of back to town, which would have been more convenient for her. We would have been content to have taken the bus or even the ferry back, but she wouldn't hear of it.
We had now become fast friends. We exchanged emails, snapped a selfie and reluctantly said goodbye to our local tour guide. It was a fantastic adventure.
Meanwhile, for the evening, we had booked an excursion to the Bermuda Triangle...another story for another day.
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