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.