Bermuda Final

Dear Blog

Sept. 1^st Tuesday Day 8 Bermuda

 

Today is our last full day in Bermuda before we take the ugh plane ride home — though at least the connection going back is better than the one that brought us here. Small victories.

We decided to spend the day with a day pass at the Newstead Belmont Hills Golf & Spa Resort, one of the easiest ways to enjoy amenities you can’t always access on your own. Yes, Bermuda has plenty of public beaches, but once you get there you still end up paying for umbrellas, loungers, and everything else. With a day pass, all of that is taken care of.

What makes Newstead especially nice is how effortless everything feels. Lunch is right on-site — no wandering around looking for food.

It’s steps from the pool, so you can drift over for a leisurely meal and then slide right back into your lounger. The views are gorgeous, giving you a mini escape inside your escape.

We weren’t looking for just another pool — our hotel already has one. We wanted a quiet harborside retreat with peace, views, and that slow, relaxing pool‑day rhythm. For that, the Newstead day pass is absolutely perfect.

One of the best perks is the private ferry shuttle, an easy eight‑minute ride across the harbor. Newstead sits directly opposite Hamilton, close enough to see the skyline but far enough to feel tucked away. The shuttle drops you right at the Hamilton ferry terminal, giving you all the convenience of the city without any of the noise or crowds. And the weather? Bright, sunny, warm — 82 degrees. Truly the perfect temperature for a final Bermuda day.

One of the real joys of travel is meeting new people and having those easy little chit‑chats. It just works—you're on vacation, they're on vacation, and everyone’s in the mood for a good time. Those quick conversations add a little spark to the day.

Being with your spouse around the clock is great, but it doesn’t mean every moment will be filled with profound conversation. Meeting others along the way brings a refreshing balance.

On our first trip to Bermuda, we hit it off with a couple staying at our hotel. She was easy to talk to, and her man friend was nice, reserved, but genuinely interesting. We ended up going on a sunset cruise together and had a great time. He had that dead‑pan warmth—calm, flexible, and not afraid to give an accurate assessment, which made him pretty funny without even trying. At one point he asked, “You’re not one of those couples we get to know and like, and then never hear from again, right?” We laughed and said, “Probably.”

The funny part was that he looked exactly like the Lieutenant Bogomilt who starred with Eddie Murphy in Beverly Hills Cop.  Who displayed the same type of character, authoritative without being authoritarian, disciplined without being cold,

principled without being rigid, and honest without being harsh.

We asked him outright if he’d played that lieutenant in the Eddie Murphy movie, and he said, “Nah,” but there was a twinkle in his eye that Jay immediately read as a quiet yes. I took it to mean he’s definitely been asked before. And who knows—like he said, we will never know, because we never saw him again.

We chatted with a few people on this trip without ever learning their names—a couple from Alberta, a couple from Indiana, and a British girl who is one of the rare humans who can actually pull off wearing  a thong bathing suit. I spent way too much time misidentifying everyone around her. I confidently decided her brother was her boyfriend, and the older man sitting next to her was her father. Wrong on both counts. But that’s what we do when we don’t know the story—we just make stuff up.

Travel changes the way you see the world, and even more, the way you see people. The older I get, the more I realize that paradise isn’t usually a just a place—it’s a feeling of connection. And the people you meet along the way have everything to do with that feeling. It reminds me of that guy years ago who asked, “Are you one of those couples we’ll never see or talk to again?” The honest answer was yes. But we’ve never forgotten him.

 

Bermuda Day 7

Dear Blog

 

August 31^st Monday Day 7 Bermuda

 

Yesterday we went to St. George, a small, very old town in Bermuda. Many of the buildings have been here for hundreds of years, and you can easily see the island’s early history just by walking around. It’s the oldest English town in the Americas that people still live in. The town has colorful houses, tiny cobblestone streets, and pretty ocean views.

 

There are two ways to get there from Hamilton: by ferry or by bus. We took the ferry over because it’s the more scenic route, even though it takes a bit longer, and took the bus back since there are more return times than the ferry.

 

We actually had to look up how to ride a bus in Bermuda. We’ve been to 125 countries, navigated ferries, tuk‑tuks, bullet trains, and one questionable camel… yet somehow, we still had to Google how to ride a bus in Bermuda. “Uhm… so do we just… get on … how does this work?  We found out the good news: buses and ferries are $5 for adults, and the U.S. dollar equals the Bermudian dollar. Yes, there are cheaper fares and multi‑day passes, but if you’re going anywhere tourists actually go, it’s usually five bucks. So, we just packed some $5 bills.

 

The rules are simple. Stand by the pink pole the bus goes toward Hamilton, stand by the blue pole the bus goes away from Hamilton. Once by the pole, give the driver a little wave and he will pull over, get in and hand over your $5. And don’t forget to say hello to the driver, the internet insists on this.  Then find a seat and sit your butt down with only what fits on your lap — anything bigger and it’s basically “no bus for you”. When you want off, push the “STOP” button, pretend you’ve known how to do this your whole life and don’t forget to thank the driver as you leave.

 

We spent the whole morning wandering around St. George, weaving through cobblestone lanes, tiny alleyways, old churches, and the quiet forts. It really does feel like you’ve stepped back in time. Jay had printed out a little walkabout guide with all the must‑see spots, which kept us moving — at least until we got thirsty.

We wandered into Wahoo Bistro – the perfect spot to grab a cold beer on the deck overlooking the water. We politely skipped their swordfish bites and famous octopus stew and stuck with a frosty Amstel Light.

Then we found a  pink pole and caught the bus to Crystal Caverns. The caves bus stop was where a crowd of people were waiting to catch the bus back to Hamilton so we knew this must be the way to the place. Besides there was a big sign that says, “Crystal & Fantasy Caves – A Bermuda Landmark” and a tall overhead sign reading “Pedestrian Footpath to the Crystal Caves of Bermuda.”  

 

The caves were discovered in 1907 by two teenage boys chasing a lost cricket ball. When you’re inside, you can imagine how shocking it must have been to stumble into something so vast and untouched. The caves are enormous chambers filled with thousands of slender white stalactites, hanging like chandeliers from the ceiling and stalagmites rising from the shore of a crystal clear lake. They look delicate, almost like frozen icicles, but they’ve been forming for millions of years. The caves have soft blue lights that shine on the rock walls. The blue light makes the hanging rock formations look icy, almost like glass. The rocks themselves are white and light gray, so the blue lighting gives the whole cave a gentle, underwater glow.

 

After our tour of the caves we stood by the pink pole once again and took the bus back to Hamiliton where it was officially wine time and we stopped for a bite to eat on our way to bed.

 

It was a good day.

 

 

 

Bermuda Day 6

Dear Blog

August 30^th Sunday Day 6 Bermuda

 

Today we took another early walk around Hamilton before the cruise crowds rolled in. Bermuda is a favorite stop for several cruise lines—especially Norwegian—and every ship docks out at the Royal Naval Dockyard, about seven miles from Hamilton. By taxi or bus, it’s a 45‑minute ride, but as we’ve learned, the ferry makes a quick and beautiful 20‑minute trip across the sound.

 

Most cruises stick around for a couple of days because Bermuda is basically everyone’s dream vacation. So, this morning—before the heat kicked in and the Fanny Pack Brigade marched ashore—we set out to explore Hamilton’s quieter corners. We wandered into hidden alleys, secret nooks, and all the little details that make the city feel like Bermuda’s best‑kept secret.

 

When you wander through Bermuda, the first thing your eyes keep drifting towards are the white roofs. There is a reason for that. The islands do not have any rivers, lakes or other sources of natural fresh water, so every building is designed to catch rainwater. They all look like wedding cakes and homes are painted soft pastel colors, not just for the charm but to reflect sun, keeping interiors cool.

 

“Hidden Hamilton” sits just behind Front Street, easy to miss because most visitors stay on the main drag of shops, bars, and water views. The real charm lies in the unmarked alleys—quirky, art‑splashed passages that reward anyone willing to slip between two buildings and wander. We found unexpected murals, you’d swear no one would bother painting, quiet little pocket of everyday Bermudian life— You’ll see Bermudians chatting, deliveries happening and historic coral‑stone walls, pastel paint peeling just enough to be charming, and stairways that look like they’ve been climbed for a century.  In a word… interesting.

 

August is a great month to visit here. We’ve had classic Bermuda summer days: highs in the 80s, lows around 78°F, and sea temps are at their warmest — about 82°F.  Most visitors don’t realize Bermuda’s ocean is too cold for comfortable swimming for about four months (Dec–Mar), when water temps drop to 63–68°F.

 

A friend asked us, “Aren’t you going during hurricane season?” Technically, we are here during peak Atlantic hurricane season. But direct hits on Bermuda are rare. The island is only 21 square miles, a tiny target in a huge ocean, and most storms curve north before they ever reach it. A direct hit happens roughly every 10–15 years — the last was Hurricane Ernesto in August 2024, so… are we safe? LOL, hopefully.

For travelers like us, the biggest issue isn’t island damage — it’s flight disruption. Even offshore storms can delay or cancel flights thanks to strong winds, turbulence, or unsafe landing conditions. Bermuda’s airport usually closes for hurricanes once every 1–3 years. And honestly, compared to today’s general air‑travel chaos, delays can happen anywhere, anytime… so our thinking is similar to what Alfred E. Neuman might say, “What Me worry?”

 

In the afternoon we wandered down to the pool, watching the usual parade of newcomers drifting in and out. This hotel, like all other hotels is a revolving door of personalities. And while I’m grateful it’s “adults only,” you could definitely argue that a few of these folks are stretching the definition. We skipped the Saturday night pool party. The music was too loud and the ‘adults’ a bit too much.

 

Tomorrow is a big one.  St. George awaits, and we will need all the energy we can get.

 

P.S. A friend wrote me a response to yesterday’s story, “So buy a cute villa on the beach and I’ll be sure to visit. Happy sipping… On your way home I can get you booked in my yearly room at the Betty Ford clinic.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bermuda Day 5

Dear Blog

 

August 28^th Saturday Day 5 Bermuda

This morning we went to breakfast at Huckelberry’s, set right on the front porch of our colonial manor hotel, circa 1906. It is a lovely spot. I ordered a croissant, and the waiter mentioned they’re known for having the best in town—the chef comes in at 5 a.m. to bake them fresh. It was good, similar to the pizza we had the night before: maybe the humidity made it a bit more pillowy and slightly sweeter. Still really good… but at the end of the day, it was just a croissant.

After breakfast we headed for the pool and suddenly caught myself wondering why I’m writing about croissants. Then it hit me; people like us go on vacation for simple reasons, relaxation, experiences and food.

The other day while relaxing by the pool we started chatting with a couple. The husband asked, “Are you guys going to “Intrepid?” And added, “I hear it is fine dining at its best.”  I honestly didn’t know how to respond. Fine dining…Me?

To me, fine dining means upscale luxury and chef driven menus. That’s not really us. And we don’t think of ourselves as ‘Foodies’ either.  Foodies seem to chase quality and curiosity. Jay and I are casual diners, we like familiar dishes, but we want them served in a place with a ‘vibe’, a view, a setting that feels good.

Last night we opted for La Trattoria. Yes, Italian. We’d eaten there three years ago and remembered how good the pasta was. This time it was just okay—restaurants change, but it didn’t quite feel worth the price we paid. And the vibe was different too. When we first sat down, it felt like a nice, quiet spot… then more and more families came in with kids. It’s definitely had become a full‑on family restaurant.

Before our Italian night on the town, we stopped in for a little rum tasting at Gosling Brothers shop. Jay liked the “Family Reserved, Old Rum” and learned how to order it online. I was surprised that I liked it too, and I never drink rum. Gosling Brothers say, “Try it and you might buy it.” My philosophy is, “I’ll try it but @ $75 a bottle, I’ll probably pass and keep drinking wine.

Since our last trip, the town has understandably grown. There are more luxury high‑rises, new office buildings, and a noticeable number of upscale boutique shops. Near our hotel sits a fairly large market called Miles—a specialty grocery store that honestly takes your breath away. The care they put into displaying their unique foods is incredible. You walk in and immediately reach for your camera. The fruit is arranged beautifully, and every section in the store (that is—about the size of a Trader Joe’s)—is thoughtfully curated with unusual items, from crackers to deli goods and everything in between.  There’s definitely a market here for these kinds of specialty goods—and yes, they’re expensive. Jay pointed out that the two steaks were priced at $60, but given their size and quality, you couldn’t find anything comparable at home. It makes you wonder who can actually afford all this.

 Sure, there are plenty of well‑off people—businessmen in their Bermuda shorts and socks heading to work, living in beautiful condos overlooking the bay. But when you’re out walking, you also see regular working‑class folks, and even some people who don’t seem to be working at all. It’s hard to imagine how everyone manages to live here even though the normal person doesn’t shop at Miles, they shop their local market that on Monday and Tuesdays we hear they are given a 20% discount. The guys at the rum‑tasting shop mentioned that when they go on vacation—like to Florida—their money goes much further, and they really splurge.

As the day wound down, I found myself thinking about our rum tasting, our pricey Italian dinner and all the things you splurge on when you’re off away. It struck me when you are traveling you are caught up in the fun, the flavors, the scenery while locals are probably dealing with real world concerns. It is reminder that no matter how attractive a place is for tourists; life keeps happening underneath the postcard.

 Like Scarlett said, “I can’t think about that right now. I’ll think about it tomorrow.” After all I am on vacation.

Bermuda Day 4

Dear Blog

 

Day Four Friday August 28^th Bermuda

 

We headed to the beach today, keeping up our Bermuda tradition of visiting Long Bay Beach at Cambridge Beaches Resort & Spa on the west end. Getting there was easy — a quick 20‑minute ferry from Hamilton to Dockyard, then a five‑mile taxi ride that seemed longer due to traffic on a two-lane road with road‑repair projects.

 

We discovered this beach years ago completely by accident. Back then, we took a bus from Hamilton to Daniel’s Head, expecting postcard perfection. Daniel’s Head is gorgeous — we just happened to arrive at the one sad corner with a broken‑down snack stand that looked like it hadn’t served a sandwich since 1998 Not exactly the image you would see in a Bermuda brochure.

 

So, we did what any determined vacationers would do: we spotted a beautiful coastline in the distance and started wandering. We strolled through quiet little streets for about a mile until we stumbled onto this stunning resort and it’s even more stunning beach. We spent the afternoon swimming, lounging, and having lunch at Breezes restaurant right by the water… only to discover later that the beach belonged to an exclusive resort and technically wasn’t meant for non‑guests. Oops... but in our defense, it was too beautiful not to enjoy.

 

This time we made proper lunch reservations at Breezes restaurant, and yes… we headed straight back to their private beach. It remains hands down the most beautiful beach we’ve ever visited anyplace in the world. The water is stunning turquoise, perfectly calm, warm and you can walk nearly a hundred yards before it even reaches your waist.

 

We spent the whole morning basking in the sun, swimming and floating around then wandered up for lunch overlooking the bay with a frozen margarita in hand.

 

The beach, as always, was perfect—though one thing stood out. I didn’t see a single butler serving drinks to anyone in the water. Years ago, Jay had a drink delivered to him while he was standing knee‑deep water. It was one of those little touches that made the service feel extraordinary. They don’t do that anymore, you gotta walk ten yards to the bar yourself. Devastating right?

 

Back at the hotel, we wandered over to the Wine Down event on the hotel’s pool deck —supposedly a popular event featuring an hour and a half of tasting fabulous wines, but we ended up being the only ones in attendance so we opted out and went in search of dinner.

 

Clarabell’s restaurant is a popular spot in Hamilton that just happens to be right in our hotel. They are famous for their pizza, and we can confirm the reputation is earned. It’s wood-fired and the Bermuda humidity is said to work magic on pizza dough hydrating. It rises airy and stretchy, never dense or chewy. It was delicious and our best meal yet. But let’s be real it could be the humidity, or it could be the fact that we were eating pizza in a bar in Bermuda on vacation. LOL

 

Hamilton is famous for having an endless supply of great local places to eat — with one quirky exception. Bermuda doesn’t allow foreign fast‑food franchises like McDonald’s. The island passed two laws, including the Foreign Restaurants Act of 1977, specifically to preserve Bermuda’s unique character, protect small local eateries, and keep its signature “Old World” charm.

 

There’s one loophole in Bermuda’s “no franchises allowed” rule: the island has one KFC — a lone, survivor that slipped in before the 1977 ban and was grandfathered in and yes, it’s said to be shockingly popular. Locals lovingly refer to it as the forbidden chicken.  Tourists take photos like it’s a landmark.

 

After our pizza we strolled down the block to Harry’s bar and had a cocktail, enjoying one of the best marina views in Hamilton, appreciating the modern, relaxed setting that felt upscale without being formal, exactly our kind of place. Then we made our way back to the hotel, which was a short easy stroll.

 

It turned into one of those easy vacation days where you swim, eat, sip, wander, drink, repeat — because honestly, isn’t that the whole point of being away?

 

So, you are asking about the weather? Let me put it this way: it’s warm, very warm, it’s humid. Even the locals are fanning themselves and comment, “Yeah it’s a bit much.”

 

But one dip in the pool or one cold drink gets you thinking, “Why don’t we live here?”

 

 

 

Bermuda Day 3

Dear Blog

 

Day three August 27^th Bermuda

 

Our room is small but cozy, tucked upstairs with a nice view of the garden and pool at the Rosedon Hotel. It’s furnished in a beautifully appointed colonial style, and the whole property is wonderfully quiet. Being an adults‑only hotel is a real bonus — especially when it comes to enjoying the pool, with no kids yelling “MARCO!” “POLO!” every 3 seconds.

 

We headed out early and went for a morning walk along Front Street and the waterfront. This is what I would call the postcard stretch, good for photo ops. Ferries were coming and going, joggers were out, and the city was just waking up.

 

We stopped at one of Bermuda’s most‑photographed spots, the Birdcage. This is the blue‑and‑white traffic tower where Bermuda’s “dancing traffic cops” once directed cars. Traffic lights eventually made the job unnecessary. The Birdcage name comes from Geoffrey “Dickie” Bird, Hamilton’s first City Engineer. In 1962, he designed the raised, covered tower to protect officers from the sun and rain — and since Dicky Bird built the cage, everyone just started calling it the “Birdcage”.

 

We wandered through Queen Elizabeth Park, enjoying the cool shade of the trees and the quiet benches tucked beneath them. From there, we strolled past City Hall and the Arts Centre with its pretty little courtyard, then continued to the Cathedral of the Most Holy Trinity. We passed on the 155‑step climb to the tower—spectacular view or not. By then the day was warming up and our thirst was catching up with us.

 

Looping back toward the water, we went looking for some “Johnny Bread” a slightly sweet Bermudian treat. It’s not the traditional Bermudian breakfast of cod fish, potatoes, hard boiled eggs, avocados, bananas and tomato sauce the locals line up for, but that sounds a bit too much for us. We stumbled into bakeries offering the usual gooey, sugary jelly-filled gut bombs. They did look dangerously scrumptious, but we shared a rare moment of restraint.

 

We spent the day wandering around and “shopping”—not actually buying anything, but you’ve gotta look, right? We walked through the Hamilton Princess & Beach Club, the one everyone calls the “Pink Palace”. It’s right across the street from where we’re staying, gorgeous, and wildly expensive at about $1,200 a night. We were perfectly happy just strolling through and taking it all in.

 

We spent part of the afternoon stretched out by the pool, reading — me with Resort to Murder, soaking up all that Bermuda‑resort mystery energy, and Jay with some Jack Reacher literary masterpiece he seems obsessed with. Stretched out poolside, we ordered a cold beer and a glorious pile of french-fries instead. That’s vacation- doing exactly what feels right.

 

For dinner, we crossed the street back to the Pink Palace and settled into a waterfront table at Restaurant 1609. The harbor was glowing, the breeze was soft, and the fish tacos were genuinely terrific. Afterward, we headed out for our sunset cruise.

 

We adore sunset cruises and have taken them all over the world—Africa, the Caribbean, Spain, Greece, and probably a few places I’ve forgotten. If a boat leaves at dusk, we’re on it. There’s nothing better than sipping a rum swizzle, listening to live island music, catching the guide’s lively commentary, and watching Bermuda slowly light up as the sun slips away. Unfortunately, we waited and waited …no boat, no other passengers. No rum swizzle drinks, nothing. I guess they cancelled it probably because there aren’t many tourists in town right now or maybe the full moon scared everyone off, so we wandered down the street and let the moonlight lead us to a nightcap while enjoying the most beautiful full moon ever.

 

Tomorrow is another day in Paradise and we’re going to the beach! After all, it is Bermuda.

Bermuda Day 2

Dear Blog

 

August 26^th Day Two Bermuda

 

After a four‑hour layover in Atlanta — plenty of time for coffee at the Delta Club — our flight to Bermuda was smooth and uneventful. Bermuda airport is small, calm, organized, and impressively efficient. That’s saying something.

 

We grabbed a taxi to our hotel in Hamilton. There are only two ways to get around here: taxi or bus. Bermuda doesn’t allow visitors to rent standard cars but 2-seater mini-electric cars are available, or you can rent a scooter. Taxi drivers here don’t drive fast — there’s literally nowhere to rush to. The whole island moves at vacation speed. Even if they wanted to drive crazy, the roads are too narrow, the curves are too sharp, and someone’s grandma is always puttering along on a scooter.

 

We chose The Rosedon because it’s small—only about forty rooms—and has that true “boutique” feel instead of the usual giant hotel box. It’s a colonial‑style manor house with gardens, a pool, and three restaurants so popular that tourists staying elsewhere come here to eat. The staff greeted us warmly and even walked us to our room. They were friendly, polite, and made us feel like genuinely welcome guests. Now that’s saying something.

 

After settling in—which took maybe ten minutes because we packed light—we wandered around the grounds and decided it was officially wine time. So, we walked the short block and a half into downtown Hamilton. It’s the charming heartbeat of Bermuda.

 

We headed straight for the Hog Penny, a cozy little pub tucked right downtown, the oldest dining establishment in Hamilton and said to be the original inspiration for the Cheers Bar in Boston. We’re hoping—maybe even counting on—finding a ploughman’s lunch on the menu. During our trips to Great Britain, that simple meal has become a favorite.

 

A ploughman’s lunch is basically a charcuterie board without any of the fuss —No brie, no salami roses, no artistic drizzle. It’s honest, rustic pub food: a big hunk of sharp cheddar, crusty bread, pickles or chutney, pickled onions, and maybe a few slices of cold ham. Simple, hearty, and completely unfussy — the kind of meal a farmer could finish in five minutes before heading back to the fields.

 

Our server told us they used to offer it, but tastes have changed and the menu has shifted toward more modern British pub dishes. A little disappointing for us, but understandable — Things evolve — because apparently nothing can just stay simple anymore.

They still serve British favorites like kidney pie, shepherd’s pie, and bangers and mash, though none of those are really our go‑tos. So, we decided to try the prime rib sliders with Cheshire cheese and Branston pickle — a classic British condiment, similar to chutney but with that unmistakable sweet‑tangy pub flavor.

 

Since it was Wednesday, the whole area was gearing up for Harbour Nights—when Front Street closes to traffic and turns into a summer street festival with food booths, craft vendors, live music, dancing, and that reggae‑calypso beat we remembered from our last visit. This is what is called Gombey (GUMBEE), Bermuda’s own traditional performance style. Think of pounding drums, sharp whistles, and a mix of reggae and calypso rhythms, all wrapped in bright, eye‑popping costumes. The dancers move with this powerful, African‑inspired energy—loud, colorful, and impossible not to watch. It’s one of those things that makes you feel like you’re really in Bermuda,

 

We decided to head upstairs to Pickled Onion, right above the Hog Penny, and watch all the Harbour Nights action from above. We would love to show you some pictures, but our phone ran out of battery so you will have to come here yourself for the experience.

 

See you bright and early tomorrow.

 

Bermuda by Jain

Dear  Blog

August 25^th Day One Bermuda Here We Go!

 

We’re off to Bermuda. As usual, we started the trip at the Peppermill—well, technically we didn’t stay there last night, but we had a free room and our flight didn’t leave until 7:30 p.m., so why not spend the day by the pool and then take off? That was the plan, and honestly, it worked perfectly.

 

Why Bermuda? We’ve visited twice—first for a two‑week stay and later on a cruise—and both trips left us with the kind of memories that make you want to return. The beaches are gorgeous, the sand blush‑pink, the water that unreal turquoise that looks like someone polished a gemstone. The resorts are clean, refined, and calm. Everything feels safe, upscale, and beautifully maintained. In a seashell: Bermuda is quieter, more polished, and more serene than many Caribbean destinations. It has all the beauty without the chaos—no wild nightlife, no crowded beaches—just a peaceful, elegant place to unwind.

 

Flying to Bermuda — or honestly anywhere these days — isn’t exactly fun or easy. We ended up on red‑eyes, which I’m not a fan of, but they are cheaper and at least you skip the big daytime crowds. The layovers, though… totally terrible. Still, going from RNO to LAX to ATL and then on to BDA isn’t the worst routing out there but comes close. And really, Bermuda is off the East Coast and we’re on the West, so what can you do?

 

When people think of Bermuda, a few familiar images usually pop up: Bermuda shorts, the Bermuda Triangle, Bermuda onions, the island’s British ties, and the notion that it’s not exactly budget‑friendly. Here’s what we’ve actually seen.

 

Bermudian men really do wear Bermuda shorts as business attire — long socks, polished shoes, and a sport coat. It’s British formality adjusted for warm weather.

The Bermuda Triangle—often described as spanning Puerto Rico, Florida, and Bermuda—is mostly a legend. It doesn’t appear on any official map, and there’s no scientific evidence that this busy stretch of ocean is any more dangerous than any other. Still, the stories endure, fueled by curiosity, fear, imagination, and the thrill of the unknown, because we like that stuff.

 

Bermuda onions were a big deal back in the early 1900s—famous worldwide and shipped everywhere. These days, they’re no longer exported. With only 21 square miles to work with, the island needs its land for homes, hotels, and golf courses. And after living in Washington state for twenty years, we can confirm Walla Walla grows the same sweet onion… for a whole lot less.

 

Bermuda maybe under Britain’s sovereignty, but Bermudians run their own country. The island takes pride in its British roots— you see it in the left‑side driving, the colonial architecture, even the occasional afternoon tea. But ask any Bermudian, and they’ll tell you they’re Bermudian first. They drink more rum than beer, their food traditions lean West African and Caribbean, and their identity comes straight from the island itself — its history, its rhythms, its personality. It’s not something handed down from the Crown.

 

And yes, Bermuda is expensive, is currently ranked one the most expensive places in the world  It’s a tiny island that imports almost everything, has limited land, high wages, and a very high standard of living — it all adds up. But is a trip here worth it? Absolutely It’s peaceful beauty and the price feels justified by the experience. We’d stay for a month if we could… but we’d have to sell the house, and our cat would be out of a home.

 

Bye for now — we should be touching down this afternoon around 2:30 p.m., provided the Bermuda Triangle doesn’t rise like a shadowy legend beneath us and rewrite our flight path into something far more… memorable.

Sedona

Blog

 

Day Six Grand Canyon Trip

 

This morning we drove up to the Sedona Airport for breakfast and a panoramic look at the whole valley. It’s one of the few places where you get the full Sedona skyline without breaking a sweat. Sunset is the most popular hour, but we’ve heard it becomes a packed spectacle. Morning, though—that’s the sweet spot. 

From our hotel it’s only about 2½ miles to the airport, but the road climbs 500 feet in a single mile—so, yes, it’s a haul. We drove up and parked in the upper lot by the Mesa Grill so we could soak in the views first, then wander in for breakfast. 

We walked across the road to an overlook with classic 360‑degree postcard views—the kind that make people stop mid‑stride and let out an “ahhh.” After Jay takes a million photos—because that’s what everyone does now, just keep shooting and sort it out later—we head for the Airport Mesa Grill for coffee and breakfast. We grabbed a table on the patio and watched little planes drift in and out of the airport. It feels like you’re sitting on a balcony above the world — red rocks in every direction, the soft buzz of takeoffs just beyond the railing. Pure Sedona, and yes, we were fully in vacation mode.

 

Sedona Airport holds a special place in Jay’s memory. In his 20’s as a firefighter in El Cajon he worked his days off at Gillespie airfield as a pilot/flight instructor and occasionally flew passengers for hire. On one flight, the passenger became aggressive, pointed a gun at Jay and insisted on a change in destination. The passenger forced Jay to land at Needles airport near the Colorado river. Jay exited the plane and the passenger took off with the plane in an easterly direction. Jay knew there was a federal Flight Service Station at the opposite end of the field. He ran the mile and burst into the office, out of breath, startling the officials and described his experience and the operators put out an APB to all airports and law enforcement agencies within 1,000 miles and a deputy sheriff in Sedona captured the plane and pilot when he landed there. 

After we got back to the hotel, we wandered over to lounge by the pool. Since our place is on the smaller side, we’re allowed to use the pool next door at the upscale Los Abrigados Hilton — just a two‑minute stroll from our room. Plenty of people go there for the whole luxury‑spa‑day experience, but for us, a simple dip was the perfect cool‑down. Turns out the pool is salt water — supposedly healthier, though it’s never been my favorite. No matter what anyone claims, salt water always stings my eyes. 

After washing off the salt water, we wandered over to Oak Creek Brewery & Grill for their infamous happy hour. The place was loud and loose, full of people. This spot is known for its Seven Dwarf shots, everything from Doc (fruit punch) to Grumpy (Gold schlager with a graham‑cracker rim) to Happy (chocolate and caramel vodka).  The folks here looked like they’d already sampled a dwarf or two.

I stayed loyal to my six‑dollar wine, though I’d absolutely try the Happy shot if it were after dinner. 

When the sun finally slid behind the red rocks, we made our way to El Rincón, a Mexican restaurant that has a quiet serene courtyard. It was a nice way to end our day and our trip. Thank you for coming along. 

Tomorrow, we head home to our cat, who will pretend she didn’t even notice we were gone.

 

Sedona AZ

Dear Blog

 

Day Five Grand Canyon Trip

 

 

This morning we decided to stick with two easy walks right in Sedona. There are countless hiking options in the area, but we didn’t feel like moving the car, fighting for parking, or tackling anything strenuous — especially with temperatures heading into the high‑80s before noon.

 

Our first walk was the Los Abrigados walking route. It’s a gentle, scenic, creek side stroll that winds through landscaped paths, small bridges, and shaded areas along Oak Creek. It connects the resort area to Tlaquepaque Arts & Shopping Village and offers pretty red‑rock glimpses without feeling like a wilderness hike. It’s about a half‑mile and very peaceful.

 

The second walk was the Sedona Outlook Trail. This one is also about a half‑mile — a short, gently sloping path that leads to a wide, open overlook with sweeping views of Sedona’s major rock formations. It’s the kind of spot where people pause to take photos, breathe in the air, and just soak in the panorama. A friend suggested the Pink Jeep Tour so we strolled over to check it out but the moment we saw a jeep pulling out stuffed with eight people on bench seats, we opted out, anticipating 94 degree heat played heavily in that decision.

 

In the afternoon we did some winetasting.  We walked to the Art of Wine. It is said to be a trendy and lively place, but we wound up being the only ones there. The Sommelier instantly felt like an old friend sharing her travel stories with us. We ended up staying two hours.

 

In Sedona you’re never short on dinner options, but we decided to try our luck at Hideaway House. Since it was Father’s Day, we headed over early. The restaurant sits on a hillside with big open‑air patios that look straight out toward the red rocks — not a dramatic cliff‑top view, but something more intimate, cozy, and close to the canyon walls. We managed to snag a patio table around 5pm, just as the warm canyon glow started settling in. Sunset hits around 6:30, so the timing was perfect for those soft golden views Sedona does so well.

 

The menu at Hideaway House leans into comfort‑forward Italian with a home‑style twist — fresh‑made breads, hearty pastas, vibrant salads, and creative specialty pizzas, all served with those relaxed Sedona views. But honestly, we realized we didn’t need the whole menu. We decided to share the Garlic Cheese Bread Blossom, the meatballs, and a glass of red wine — and that was perfect. The bread blossom comes out as a warm, fresh‑baked loaf packed with garlic, melted mozzarella, and parmesan, served with their house‑made marinara for dipping. The meatballs were juicy, tender, and cheesy, exactly the kind of comfort food that fits the setting. That’s it.

 

Tomorrow it’s supposed to hit 97 degrees so the odds of doing a lot of walking are slim. We’ll probably hit the pool instead.

Grand Canyon

Dear Blog

 

Day Four Grand Canyon Trip

 

This morning we left Williams and headed for Sedona, a place we’ve heard about for years but never seen for ourselves. We’d hoped to take the scenic AZ 89A drive through Oak Creek Canyon, often called one of the Southwest’s most beautiful routes, but with construction and rockfall repairs the two‑lane highway was closed so we had to go back toward Flagstaff and then down I‑17 to Sedona.

 

Jay was disappointed; he’s flown over the canyon many times and remembers how stunning it looks from above. I looked forward to it too although I’ll admit, part of me felt that familiar flutter of nerves. I’ve been on enough narrow mountain roads in Greece and Africa to know that “scenic” can also mean “white‑knuckle.” Gorgeous, yes—but when you’re the passenger staring straight down a canyon wall, hoping no one comes around a blind curve too fast, it’s hard to fully relax and enjoy the view.

 

We decided to stop at a winery before checking into our hotel in Sedona, since check‑in times these days are rarely early, especially during peak tourist season when rooms take longer to turn over. DA Ranch Winery, just about twenty minutes outside Sedona, made for an easy and perfectly relaxing first stop. The “DA” stands for Delta Alpha, a nod to the original cattle bred on the ranch back in the 1800s. Today, the property operates as an estate winery, meaning every grape is grown right on their own land and they handle the entire winemaking and bottling process themselves. They proudly highlight how this approach gives their wines a consistent Verde Valley character—ripe fruit, warm‑climate aromatics, and bold, expressive reds.

 

DA Ranch felt laid‑back. Wide green lawns stretch beneath towering cottonwoods, and the vineyards roll gently toward the red rock hills. The historic ranch buildings and quiet pond give the place a warm, rustic charm. And of course, the wandering goats add a playful touch. This reminded us of our favorite winery ever... Goats Do Roam in Paarl, South Africa where we sat outside on the patio and sampled wine and cheese while watching the goats roam, climb, or nap around us.

 

The moment we arrived, the whole place was alive — a fishing derby on one side, live music drifting through the air, a food truck parked nearby, and wine tasting everywhere you turned. They were also running an Arizona‑style event called the Cottontail Cotton Candy Experience. We watched the cotton candy being spun like magic and tried wild flavors like whiskey‑inspired and Earl Grey. Forget that cotton candy is basically pure sugar with artificial dyes and zero nutritional value. It doesn’t matter — the fun was the point.

 

Once the sugar rush hit, we made our way to our hotel in Sedona. At our hotel El Portal we reserved the Garden room. El Portal is an adobe boutique hotel in Sedona that feels more like a private, arts‑and‑crafts–style residence than a traditional hotel. It’s known for its warm Southwestern architecture and courtyard gardens. Of course, the best part is 2-minute walk to Tlaquepaque (Tiock-a pock-ee) an artsy little shopping village packed with Mexican charm, fountains, courtyards, upscale boutiques, restaurants, jewelry and boho clothes; all the unique gifts you don’t need, until you see them and suddenly you can’t leave without.

It’s Saturday night and the place is jam-packed and 93 degrees. Too hot for a full meal but not too hot for Oak Creek Brewery’s famous fries and trio of sauces, horseradish, chipotle ranch and ketchup. I mean, what else do you need?

Tomorrow we will explore some of the local trails.

Grand Canyon

 

Dear Blog

 

Day Three Grand Canyon Trip

 

The train station sits right across the street from our hotel, the Grand Canyon Hotel, so we packed our daypacks and simply strolled over with our tickets in hand. After checking in, we were encouraged to watch the “gunfight at the OK Corral.” It was a little hokey, but honestly kind of fun — and once the “bad guy” dramatically hit the dirt, it was time to board.

 

Our train pulled out at 9:30 a.m. for the hour‑and‑45‑minute ride to the South Rim. We splurged on the pricer tickets after doing some research; people kept saying the upgrade was worth it for the parlor car’s big windows, comfortable seating, its own bar, and access to the private outdoor platform. Reviewers also mentioned that because it’s adults‑only, the atmosphere is quieter and more relaxed — and I believe it. Watching the crowds of families lining up for the Pullman and Coach cars made me grateful for our choice.

 

Once we reached the South Rim, we had about three and a half hours to explore. We decided to wander along the Rim Trail toward Mather Point, which offers those big WOW, postcard‑perfect panoramic views. The trail is mostly paved, mostly flat, and hugs the canyon’s edge for miles. There’s a shuttle that continues past Mather Point to additional viewpoints, but we wanted to stretch our legs, breathe the air, and take in the scenery at our own pace. With the temperature hovering around 85 degrees, we weren’t looking for anything strenuous, just an easy, relaxing stroll. Yes, there were plenty of tourists snapping pictures—honestly, too many pictures in my opinion. Photos are great, but it’s also nice to put the phone down and simply take in the view.

 

On the walk back, we stopped at El Tovar, the rim‑side historic lodge with big windows, classic Southwestern charm, and its famously excellent Bloody Mary’s. The drink is iconic because it brings together everything that makes El Tovar special: a well‑made, no‑nonsense Bloody Mary, a legendary national‑park lodge, and a world‑class canyon view just steps away. It’s not just a cocktail — it’s part of the Grand Canyon experience. Travelers have been coming to El Tovar for more than a century, and ordering a Bloody Mary has become a tradition, the same way a mint julep belongs at Churchill Downs or a Mai tai belongs at the Royal Hawaiian. People recommend it because it feels like something you’re simply meant to do at the canyon. They didn’t exactly have to twist our arms.

 

 

 

The afternoon flew by, and before we knew it, it was time to board the train for our ride back to Williams. We already knew a “train robbery” was coming—we’d seen plenty of YouTube videos ahead of time—so we were ready for the show. It doesn’t matter what class you’re in; those “robbers” make their rounds and ask for money. It’s all part of the performance, of course, and people happily handed over a few dollars. It’s pretty clear that’s how the actors earn their tips, and honestly, they deserve it for putting on such an entertaining show.

 

Once we were back in Williams, it was time to grab a taco. We headed straight to El Corral, a long‑standing Mexican restaurant right on historic Route 66. It’s well known among both tourists and locals for its tacos, enchiladas, and big combo plates. The portions are generous, the prices are reasonable, and it’s easily one of the most consistently recommended spots in town. We both decided to try the tamarind margarita. Tamarind is a sweet‑tart fruit, and the drink usually comes with a rim dipped in chile‑lime seasoning like Tajín for a little kick. It still has the classic margarita base—tequila, lime, and orange liqueur—but the tamarind adds a sweet‑tart, slightly earthy flavor that’s surprisingly refreshing. It turned out to be a great choice.

 

So, How was the Grand Canyon? “GRAND!”

 

How was the train? “Whew, Whew!”

 

How were the Tacos? “Olay, Olay!”

Grand Canyon Day 2

Dear Blog

 

Day Two Grand Canyon Trip

 

In the morning, we head out to Williams — about 35 miles on I‑40. It’s an easy, scenic drive with ponderosa pines and big open skies. I-40  skips the real Route 66 and Bellemont, where Easy Rider fans stop for a photo op of the Pine Breeze Inn — the spot where Wyatt and Billy get hit with the “NO VACANCY” sign.

Jay and I aren’t huge Easy Rider movie buffs so, like the movie, we just keep rolling on our own terms.

 

Williams, Arizona may be best known as the gateway to the Grand Canyon, but it also boasts a wonderfully preserved stretch of Route 66 — six blocks lined with diners, saloons, motor lodges, quirky shops, small museums with pure 1950s charm. After checking into the Grand Canyon Hotel for our two‑night stay, we headed out for a relaxed stroll. No ghost hunts this time; just soaking in the Americana and the shops that give this town its own unmistakable character. And yes, they’re stocked with all the classics: kitschy Route 66 souvenirs, southwest crafts, western gear, and vintage odds and ends people tossed decades ago but now absolutely need for their collections.

 

We’re not big souvenir people, maybe we’ll grab a T‑shirt now and then. One, it proves to our friends we actually went somewhere and two, sometimes we just need something clean to wear before laundry day becomes real. Still, wandering through the shops is fun. Call it browsing, but really, it’s a mini sensory adventure: textures, colors, and all the novelty goods that proudly show off a town’s personality.

 

Some of these little shops are packed full of oddball, quirky stuff that make Williams… well, Williams. You’ll even find bison jerky proudly bragging that it’s “sweeter and a bit firmer” than Link’s beef jerky, as if that difference is about to convince you to buy a whole bag. Then you drift into the gem shops, where “special” stones—fluorite, calcite, —light up under a black light if you happen to own a black light.. And of course, there are the plaster mountain‑lion, elk, and black‑bear footprints—perfect for giving your porch a reminder that we’re not the only ones using the porch. And if you have a sweet tooth, Williams sweets are their own adventure: jalapeño or sassafras taffy and prickly‑pear everything jelly, syrup, candy, lemonade and truffles. Prickly pear comes from a cactus fruit and is said to taste like watermelon.

 

And tucked among all that, you’ll find the railroad memorabilia—spikes, replica tickets, bits of metal art. This makes me think of my older brother, who used to pay me and my brother Mike a nickel for every stray piece of metal we found while walking the train tracks in south Sacramento. We’d come back with pockets full of random treasures that had rattled loose from passing trains. He was both a railroad engineer and an artist, so those scraps didn’t stay scraps for long, they became metal wall art. I still remember one piece making its way into an art gallery in Oak Park, in Sacramento glowing under the lights like it had always been meant for a wall instead of a rail yard.

 

Jay loved Pete’s Gas Station Museum. The place began as an old Texaco station, and stepping inside sent him straight back to the days when he always had grease on his hands and an old Ford sitting in the driveway. He and his buddies spent whole afternoons swapping engines, wrestling with transmissions, and learning everything by trial and error — because that’s just what kids did then. Cars meant freedom, pride, and growing up. Walking into Pete’s, surrounded by classic mid‑century cars, vintage pumps, old oil cans, and the same tools he once used, stirred up some of his favorite memories.

 

That evening we had several recommended restaurants, but we ended up choosing Rod’s Steak House, the one I’d read about in the AAA magazine. They’ve been serving since 1946, which felt like a reasonable enough credential to go on. Their motto, “pull up a chair and dig in,” matched the place: straightforward, no frills. A solid spot for a Rib Eye, and their specialty cocktail, the Cactus Fires—a jalapeño‑infused pineapple margarita— The sweet–heat contrast makes it a star.

 

After dark, Williams takes on its neon look. Red, blue, and green signs switch on along Route 66, casting steady light across the street. There’s a faint buzzing from the old tubes, not loud, just constant. It gives the town a kind of low-level background hum that fits the place.

 

Tomorrow is the big event: the train ride from Williams to the Grand Canyon. Yippee‑I‑A indeed.

 

Grand Canyon

Dear Blog

 

Day One - Our Grand Canyon Trip

 

After hitting 125 countries, we finally decided to check out one of the world’s wonders that’s been sitting ridiculously close to home this whole time — the Grand Canyon. We’ve flown over it countless times, but this is our first time actually stopping to admire it like responsible adults. And before you ask: no, we are not riding mules. People call it a “once‑in‑a‑lifetime experience,” but at our age, we prefer experiences that don’t involve handing our lives over to a moody, long‑eared animal. Yes, I know mules are basically geniuses compared to horses, but if Jay didn’t enjoy riding a horse in Africa — on flat ground — I’m pretty sure a vertical drop on a mule isn’t going to be his thing. So we’re taking the train. Smooth. Scenic.

 

The trip kicked off with a Reno–Phoenix flight and a quick connection to Flagstaff. We picked up a rental car and were at our downtown hotel in about ten minutes — right on old Route 66. That whole stretch still feels frozen in time, with glowing neon motel signs, classic diners, and a dusty Old West vibe that refuses to fade.

And get this: Route 66 turns 100 this year. I had no idea until I actually opened our AAA magazine instead of tossing it. The cover was all about the centennial — 100 years of Route 66 “Get Your Kicks on the Mother Road.”

 

Flagstaff feels like a town with two personalities. On one hand, it’s surrounded by stunning scenery — the Grand Canyon and Sedona are practically neighbors — and at 7,000 feet, the elevation shapes everything. Summers stay mild, winters are long and snowy, and the thin air plus intense sun take some getting used to.

But the other side of Flagstaff is less romantic. The cost of living is high, and everyday expenses stack up fast. Its proximity to world‑famous landscapes brings a steady stream of tourists, especially hikers and climbers. And as someone who battled allergies in both Sacramento and San Diego, I can confirm Flagstaff’s tree pollen is no joke. Good thing I packed the Allerest.

 

After settling into our hotel, we committed to the two things to do in Flagstaff we’d already been thinking about back home: walking the historic Route 66 corridor downtown and weaving that walk into a search for Flagstaff’s haunted past. This city is considered one of the most haunted in America, shaped by frontier violence, railroad disasters, and tragedies that left their mark on buildings still standing. Jay and I are drawn to places with that eerie edge. Years ago, we took a Jack the Ripper tour in London and loved the mix of history and darkness. Flagstaff isn’t as brutal as Whitechapel on London East end, but its stories come from real frontier-era heartbreak. Instead of foggy gas‑lit alleys, you get old brick hotels, shadowy back lanes off Route 66, and creaking 1900s architecture. Different setting, but same thrill of walking through history when the sun goes down.

 

Our walk’s standout moments were the hauntings at the Hotel Monte Vista. In Room 220, guests report cold hands grabbing their ankles and the smell of raw meat — tied to a man who once hung meat from the chandelier. Room 305 has a rocking chair that moves on its own every day. And many guests hear the Phantom Bellboy cheerfully announcing “room service” to an empty hallway. At the Weatherford Hotel, we learned about the newlyweds murdered on their wedding night. People staying in that room still hear screams, footsteps, and heavy furniture dragging.

 

After all that, we needed a drink, so we circled back to the Monte Vista lounge — another hotspot for ghost stories. The Phantom Bartender is known for whispering greetings and knocking glasses over. We didn’t witness anything, but the bartender told us her firsthand accounts of being haunted.

 

Well enough excitement for one day sweet dreams to all and to all a good night. Tomorrow we drive to Williams.

 

 

 

 

Homeward

Dear Blog

 

Bahamas Day 12 April 29^th At Sea

 

This is our final day at sea—and the last night of the cruises. Usually, in our experience, the ship marks the occasion with a big farewell celebration in the Theatre. The captain, the officers, and many of the staff take the stage to bid the guests farewell. This is where the crew members who usually work behind the scenes—cabin attendants, bartenders, cooks—finally get their moment in the spotlight. But MSC doesn’t do that.

 

MSC throws a few themed party nights — the White Hot Party, Italian Night which basically is a meal where they serve all the Italian comfort foods and 80’s night. Of course, the Gala night is a night to meet the captain and his officers. On our Gala night we never actually saw the Captain. In fact, we have only heard him a couple of times giving weather updates and nautical reports. I’m pretty sure no one understood — or cared — because of the heavy accent and the technical jargon, it felt like he was mostly reminding everyone that he knows what he’s doing.

 

On our last cruise on the NCL Bliss, we went to their captain’s party, but we never saw the captain, either.  I did, however, shake hands with the Food and Beverage Manager because I felt people were avoiding him, one, because he is hard to understand and two, I thought some may have experienced after effects of eating his Fish Curry.  That was the party I remember Jay and I being cornered with the Cruise Next Manager. The guy was easy to talk to, but then again, charming strangers is literally his full‑time job. The man could sell ice to a polar bear.

 

Tonight MSC theme night is “Celebrate the 80’s”. We didn’t go because somehow a party starting at 10:00 p.m. doesn’t work with our age or mindset, and tomorrow is a big travel day. Honestly, the only thing I truly remember about the 80’s is that it was a very long time ago. I’m not sure what we’re celebrating at this point. It was the decade of hair teased to the size of a basketball, shoulder pads that could double as flotation devices, everyone trying to moonwalk, and Cyndi Lauper reminding us that “girls just want to have fun” — as if that was some ground-breaking revelation.

 

It’s been a good cruise. Our first time on MSC, and after eight other cruise lines, I can confirm: this one has its own… personality. Every ship has its highs and lows. Some things go great; some things go completely off the rails. Like, how does an Italian ship go eleven nights without serving lasagna? How does a Caesar salad arrive looking like it survived a dressing monsoon? And who decided last night’s breadstick dipped in frosting and sprinkles qualified as dessert? And then there’s the Yacht Club — the fancy ‘you’re‑paying‑for‑the-privilege’ area — with zero umbrellas on the pool deck. Meanwhile, we’ve been gifted two bottles of vodka and three bottles of champagne in the room… which, combined, probably cost more than one umbrella. It’s the Bahamas. It’s sunny. It’s hot. This isn’t complicated.

 

But does any of that actually ruin a cruise? Nah, If it did, you’d be miserable everywhere — ocean or not. Nothing’s perfect. A vacation is supposed to be a break from real life — and this one was.

 

But I really would’ve liked some lasagna.

 

I write these stories because they help me stay connected to our experience — they make me pay attention to what’s happening around me, to the people, and to my own reactions and feelings.

 

Thank you for tuning in, reading along, and sharing your comments.

Home stretch

Greetings Blog

 

Bahamas Day 11 April 28^th Ocean Cay

 

 

We’re back at Ocean Cay today, and believe it or not, this island used to be a giant industrial sand mine. It wasn’t natural at all — it was built in the 1960s so companies could dig up aragonite, a special sand used for cement, farming, and glass. When cheaper materials like limestone and synthetic calcium carbonate became available, the mining stopped. The island was abandoned and left covered in rusty machines, oil drums, and debris. It looked nothing like a topical island.

 

MSC took over this island and completely transformed it. They hauled away hundreds of tons of old machinery and debris, rebuilt every beach, planted thousands of trees, and turned the whole place into a protected marine reserve. Today it looks like paradise — but it definitely didn’t start that way.

 

I suspect most of our fellow passengers don’t know this or don’t care about any of that. They just want to sink into the sand with a drink in hand, living their best “give me a beer and a beach chair” life. But then there are the curious ones — the people who love a good story. And even the folks who didn’t care at first usually perk up when they hear this:” MSC removed more than 500 tons of industrial waste to restore this island. “Suddenly, Ocean Cay isn’t just beautiful. It’s a comeback story. And we all love those — the reminder that you can mess up, lose everything, hit bottom, and still rise again.

 

We spent the day on the private Yacht Club–only beach, with access to the Ocean House restaurant, a private bar, and even butler service right to our loungers in the sand. Lying there on the soft beach, admiring the turquoise water and soaking up the sun, it genuinely felt like heaven on earth.

 

The ship stays at Ocean Cay almost until midnight, giving guests plenty of time to watch the sunset and take in the nighttime laser show that lights up the sky behind the lighthouse. But since it was Jay’s birthday — Happy 85 — we decided to head back to the ship for a champagne toast, dinner, and a relaxed celebration.

 

Honestly, a cruise is one of the easiest ways to celebrate someone’s birthday. No fuss, no planning, no stress — just show up and enjoy. And the sunset views from the ship were every bit as beautiful, the perfect ending to a perfect day.

 

We didn’t really tell anyone it was his birthday, mostly because the night before we watched the staff surround a guest’s table singing Happy Birthday like it was the grand finale of the cruise. Jay, like some of you, wants absolutely nothing to do with that kind of spotlight. But of course, the crew knew — they always do — and tonight at dessert they appeared with a birthday cake anyway. Then eight staff members gathered around, singing completely out of key, and we just sat there stunned, laughing. Everyone around us applauded, and honestly… it was such a tender gesture for someone celebrating his 85th.

 

And thank you for all the birthday messages — those are the ones he truly loves, and they made this birthday feel something beautifully special.

Tomorrow is a sea day and our last cruise day.

Nassau

Dear Blog

 

Bahamas Day 10 April 27^th Nassau

 

Yes, we’re back in Nassau. Today we decided to head to a beach club called Margaritaville. We chose this one because it’s an easy walk from the ship, which means we can come and go as we please without dealing with an organized bus excursion, taxis, traffic, or any fussy arrangements. It’s simple, flexible, and exactly the kind of day we wanted.

 

Beach clubs are everywhere these days, and they’re popular for a reason. They bundle everything — food, drinks, music, loungers, shade, and service — into one easy, polished experience. No hauling towels, no hunting for a spot in the sand, no figuring out logistics. It’s simply “beach time.” Sure, beach clubs cost money, but so does going to a public beach once you start renting loungers, umbrellas, and everything else. And on public beaches, you’re also at the mercy of the hawkers — the moment you lie down and start drifting toward a nap, they appear. “You buy from me? You buy from me?” They’re constantly trying to sell you hats, sunglasses, T‑shirts, beaded necklaces, fruit, drinks, or offering to braid your hair or give you a quick beach massage. It’s part of the charm… until it isn’t.

At Margaritaville, there were several day‑pass options, but we went with the cheapest one because the pricier packages included lunch and unlimited drinks — and honestly, do we really need more food or alcohol at this point? So, we chose the budget option which got us a lounger, an umbrella, and a margarita. But because we paid for the beach option, we couldn’t use the pool and go floating down their lazy river.

 

A lazy river is basically a gentle, winding waterway pool that carries you along on a soft current while you float in an inner tube. It’s calm and unhurried — like drifting down a warm, shallow stream in paradise without having to paddle, plan, or think about anything at all. The first time I saw a lazy river was in Puerto Plata, right at the port entrance in the middle of all the chaos — tourists shopping, tourists drinking, tourists wandering around with no idea where they were going — there they were. People floating in a man‑made pool that looked like a gently moving stream. Some were wedged awkwardly into their inner tubes, others drifting by with a beer in hand and sunglasses on.

 

My first thought was, do they have any idea how ridiculous they look? But as I watched them glide past, I couldn’t ignore the serene, totally carefree expressions on their faces. They looked like they had slipped out of the real world for a moment, and honestly, I’ve never forgotten that look.

Jay and I are theater fans, but magic shows aren’t our style. Tonight’s show is Evolution of Magic, performed by Adam Milner. Magicians do sleight‑of‑hand; illusionists rely on technology and “perfected” tricks — basically the difference between quick fingers and expensive equipment. Either way, I’m not a fan of being tricked, fooled, bamboozled, hoodwinked, or otherwise suckered — so we’ll be skipping the show.

 

The most famous magician is David Copperfield, known for making things like jet planes disappear. He has performed at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas for 25 years, and his last show will be two days from now on April 30th of this year. The most famous illusionist is Houdini, whose whole career was escaping from boxes, tanks, chains, and anything else people could lock him inside. He died of a ruptured appendix on Halloween in 1926, but some people still like to pretend he’s alive at 150 years of age— which honestly would be his greatest trick. On some MSC ships they feature a “A House of Houdini” show that is music, singing, acrobatics and sleight of hand in tribute to the great Houdini. Now that’s a show I would like to see.

 

When we got back on the ship we went up to the Yacht Club pool deck. Jay napped and I watched the seagulls. It reminded me of a line from the 1971 movie, Harold and Maude when Maude and Harold are watching the seagulls. Maude says to Harold “Dreyfuss once wrote from Devils Island that he could see the most glorious birds. Many years later he realized they had only been seagulls. For me they will always be glorious birds.” There is something to be said finding beauty in the ordinary.

 

Tomorrow we will be at Ocean Cay again and it’s Jay’s 85 birthday!

 

 

Space Center

Dear Blog

 

Bahamas Day 9 April 26^th Port Canaveral

 

Today we headed out to tour the Kennedy Space Center. I wasn’t entirely sure how excited I’d be. I’m not really a space buff, but even I know that Kennedy Space Center is NASA’s main launch site, not Texas or California. I knew Jay would be in his element and really enjoy the tour. Before joining the Fire Department, he worked at General Dynamics in San Diego on the Atlas booster. The Atlas booster is a powerful rocket stage originally built in the late 1950s, (Yeah, Jay had to explain that to me) He still remembers the day Scott Carpenter and John Glenn stopped by to see the preparations. In 1962 the Atlas booster launched John Glenn into orbit on the Friendship 7 mission.

 

When I was growing up in the sixties, everyone knew the astronauts’ names just as easily as we knew the ball players or movie stars. Armstrong, Glenn, Lovell, Shepard—they were true household names. We’d gather around the old black‑and‑white TV to watch the liftoffs, and it felt like the whole country paused for those moments. These days, people just don’t follow the space program the way they once did.

 

Life moves faster now, and our attention is splintered across countless distractions—from nonstop digital entertainment to the constant churn of news—making it harder for something like space exploration to command the same collective excitement it once did. Recent lunar missions like Artemis II have certainly boosted public interest, but they still don’t seem to match the excitement of the Apollo era.

 

I guess my most personal connection to the space heroes came from my brother Jay, who somehow ended up picking up John Glenn from the old Sacramento airport. The funny part is that he was only working a summer job at the California State Fair in the Art and Marketing Department. He was supposed to be designing posters and hauling display boards—not chauffeuring one of the nation’s most famous astronauts. But the day when Glenn arrived, every official or important person seemed to have vanished into thin air. Someone looked around, saw my brother standing there in his suit, and said, “You—go get Glenn.” And off he went. We even have a picture of him in a convertible, casually driving one of America’s most iconic astronauts around as if it were just another Tuesday.

 

I remember the big moments in space—like watching Neil Armstrong take that first step for mankind. I saw that monumental moment while I was cleaning a hotel room during my chambermaid days in Tahoe City. Just minutes later, I took a “giant step” of my own on a staircase, slipped with my mop bucket, and ended up in the Truckee emergency room to make sure nothing was broken.

 

Visiting the space center stirred up a whole pile of old memories—way more than I ever expected. And to my surprise, I absolutely loved the tour. After all, this is the place where real rockets blasted off, real astronauts trained, and real missions rewrite everything we thought we knew about the universe.

 

It was a good day, even though every exhibit was packed with tourists and it felt like all we did was wait — and I really hate waiting. I didn’t expect to enjoy it as much as I did. But John F. Kennedy said it best in 1962: “We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do other things… not because they are easy, but because they are hard.”

 

The space center reminded me how far people can go when they dream big. Then, being back on the cruise ship reminded me how important it is to slow down, enjoy where you are, and appreciate the simple moments. Somehow the two experiences fit together perfectly — one lifting my eyes to the sky, the other bringing me gently back to earth.

 

We’re on a back‑to‑back cruise, which means a whole wave of new passengers just boarded for their first four‑day trip. God help us. At least our loud neighbors from the last leg are gone.

 

Ocean Cay

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Bahamas Day 8 April 25^th Ocean Cay

 

Today we’re visiting Ocean Cay, a small man‑made island in the Bahamas that has been transformed into MSC Cruises’ private marine reserve. It’s known for its powdery white‑sand beaches and stunning turquoise water. The island offers more than 75 acres of beaches and natural spaces, with calm, shallow areas perfect for swimming. There’s a long list of activities to enjoy—snorkeling, paddleboarding, kayaking, and guided nature walks. You’ll also find beach bars, dining options, and scenic walking trails to explore. This place is beautiful and truly was the best day of our cruise so far.

 

For years, cruises stopped at crowded ports and busy city centers, which often meant long lines and a day that didn’t feel very relaxing. Private islands changed that. They offer open beaches, a controlled environment, and a truly worry‑free day ashore. Cruise lines invest in them because they can manage the entire experience, avoid dock fees, and keep more guests spending onboard instead of losing it to local shops or outside tours. Even though these islands cost a lot to build, they end up being far more profitable. And the truth is, guests enjoy them too—they’re quieter, less crowded, more private, and built for comfort and relaxation.

 

Private islands take away some of that cultural interaction you get from visiting local towns and meeting people. But let’s be real—at a lot of ports, like Costa Maya, you’re not getting much authentic culture anyway. Even if you step off the ship, the whole area is built for tourists. Its shops, bars, and photo ops, not a true look at local life. So, while private islands cut out cultural experiences, many ports weren’t offering much of that to begin with.

 

Cruises are more of a vacation than a true travel experience. You’re usually not in one place long enough to dive into a new culture or spend real time with local people. It’s fun, relaxing, and easy—but it’s not the same as exploring a country on your own and really getting to know it. That said, cruises are still incredibly valuable because they give you a quick glimpse of a place—its scenery, its vibe, its highlights. Sometimes that little taste is exactly what inspires people to come back later for a longer, deeper visit as we have done in the past.

 

One of my favorite examples of the difference between travel and vacation comes from the movie City Slickers. Billy Crystal signs up for what he thinks will be a fun, relaxing cowboy getaway—only to discover it’s actually real ranch work. There’s that unforgettable moment where he’s being dragged across the dirt by a runaway cow, clinging to the rope and yelling, “I AM ON VACATION!”

It’s the perfect metaphor. We all love the idea of being adventurous, worldly travelers, but the truth is many of us just want a break—a simple vacation, not a life‑changing cattle drive.

 

A similar idea shows up in My Life in Ruins. The main character is a tour guide in Greece who is deeply passionate about Greek history. She wants her passengers to experience the richness of the culture, the stories, the meaning behind the Acropolis. But her tourists have different expectations. They’re in Greece, yes, but they’re looking for the simple joys of being away from home—an ice cream, a stupid fun souvenir, a moment to relax rather than another detailed lecture.

It’s a gentle reminder that not everyone seeks deep cultural immersion. Sometimes people just want a kitschy cheesy souvenir, a sweet treat, or a T‑shirt to take home—because, after all, they’re on vacation.

 

Together, these two films highlight an important truth: we love the idea of being bold travelers, but often what we really need is a break. Travel asks something of us. Vacation gives something back. On this trip Jay and I are on vacation.

 

Tomorrow we will take a tour of Cape Canaveral Kennedy Space Center.

 

At Sea

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Bahamas Day 7 April 24^th at Sea

 

It’s another Sea Day — yippie! Since I’m basically a seasoned MSC veteran now, here’s a fun fact: you’ll never find Deck 17 on this ship. MSC skips Deck 17 because it’s considered unlucky in Italian culture. In Roman numerals, 17 is XVII, which can be rearranged to VIXI — meaning “I have lived,” or more dramatically, “that’s the end of me.” Not exactly cruise‑vacation energy. So MSC avoids 17 entirely, just like many U.S. buildings skip the 13th floor. Superstition exists all around the world. I guess.

 

To get from our cabin on Deck 18 down to Deck 16 to our favorite cocktail hideaway, the Top Sail Lounge, we usually take the stairs. But once you crack the code, the elevators are just as effortless. You just tap your wristband against the panel like you’re unlocking a secret level, pick your deck, and let the ship do the rest. These elevators are smart—almost too smart. Step inside and there’s nothing to press, so you feel a bit lost, but they already know who you are, where you are going and whether you’re even allowed to be there. And if you’re not meant to go there… well, you might find yourself mysteriously redirected to Deck 17 instead. (that was a joke) Of course they don’t always work the way they are supposed to but impressive just the same.

 

Today is overcast and that’s ok cause we had quite a bit of sun yesterday. I decided it was time to test my luck and head down to Deck 7. That’s where the casino is, the lucky seven deck. Since it was a sea day, the place was wide open and buzzing. When a ship is in port or too close to land, the casino must stay closed, which is why sea days are prime time for anyone to strike a little luck.

 

Seven has always had that “lucky” reputation. It shows up everywhere: the Seven Wonders of the World, seven colors in the rainbow, seven continents, seven seas—seven dwarfs. But today, it wasn’t lucky seven for me. It was more like unlucky seventeen, and I walked away empty‑handed. Still, as the seasoned players like to say, “I had fun.” Though, let’s be honest—winning is always a lot more fun than losing.

In the afternoon the staff hosted an exclusive tea party for Yacht Club guests in the Top Sail Lounge. It wasn’t as fancy as the one we had on the Queen Mary last year, but it was beautifully presented by our wait staff in white gloves — a hilarious contrast to the memory of them absolutely letting loose on the dance floor the night before.

The offerings were exactly what you’d expect: scones, mini cakes, cucumber sandwiches with the crusts naturally trimmed off, and those tiny dainty puff‑ball things you pop in your mouth and immediately wonder, What exactly did I just eat? Everything was cute, petite, and very much in the category of things we would never bother making at home. I briefly wished they’d roll out their famous pizza, but I know probably wouldn’t be fittin. Like Mammy (Gone with the Wind) would say, “Just not fittin, just not fittin”. And yes, there was tea. Lots of different kinds although most people opted for champagne or wine because, well, it was 4:00 O’clock. The little petite goodies were surprisingly filling, so no dinner is required tonight.

The evening’s entertainment in the theater was called The Journey. It was a musical voyage by train through places like France, Spain, and Italy — all told through music, acrobatics, and song and dance. The whole thing was surprisingly unique, using technology, set design, and lighting to create seamless visual transitions that actually made it feel like you were traveling from country to country. It was impressive.

 

Tomorrow we will be at Ocean Cay, MSCs private Island.