Dear Blog
Jain wrote email stories to describe our adventures and impressions and with the limited Wi-Fi available we sent them out each day. We encountered some technical issues and some of you received our stories and some did not.
For those of you that missed us, we will compile the stories, add a few pictures (often requested) and send you a link to the booklet.
Jay Gunsauls, Editor
Dear Blog
Thursday Nov. 5th Costa Maya
We pulled into Costa Maya right at 7:00 a.m. Today is a “Blink and you’ll‑miss‑it stop” since we sailed away at 1:00 p.m. It’s a short day by design — this seven‑day itinerary has to hoof it all the way back to Galveston, which means tomorrow is a full sea day spent crossing the Gulf.
So, at 8:00 a.m., we headed out for an early morning walk down the long Costa Maya pier. It’s a surprisingly pretty stroll at that hour — hardly anyone around, vendors quietly opening their shops, birds doing their gentle tropical‑bird thing, and the whole port easing into the day. Costa Maya has everything: a swimming pool, a beach, a bird aviary, shops galore, and plenty of cruisers. But before the crowds spill off the ship and start lollygagging, it’s calm, clean, and almost serene.
We noticed a few passengers trying to cram in an excursion, but with the ship leaving at 1:00 p.m., everyone has to be back onboard by noon. Translation: no lingering, no dawdling, no “just one more margarita.” Watching the last‑minute sprinters make their dramatic return to the ship is one of our favorite forms of entertainment theater. Cruise ships run on strict schedules, “all aboard” is real, and the gangway goes up on time. They’ll wait for ship excursions, medical issues, or port authority orders — not for someone who lost track of time at Señor Frog’s.
After a great lunch on the pool deck, I stretched out with my latest Karin Slaughter book — a gritty crime story with usually ridden with the eternal truth that bad things happen to good people. Add that to my pre‑cruise Broadchurch Netflick series rewatch — a murder series not just who did it, but the emotional wreckage it leaves behind— and suddenly the ship started feeling like a floating crime drama.
Reading that stuff absolutely changes how you see people on vacation — every sunburned passenger suddenly has a backstory, every lounge‑chair hog becomes a morally complicated villain, and every pier runner looks like they’re sprinting for their life. LOL.
We ended up having dinner at “Ondt by Scarpetta”, the Italian restaurant on board. The funny thing is we originally thought the restaurant was named after Kay Scarpetta, the crime-solving Medical Examiner from Patricia Cornwall’s novels who happens to loves to cook Italian specialties. We have since learned that “scarpetta” is actually a term for using bread to soak up every last drop of sauce on your plate. Maybe we’ve been reading too many crime thrillers.
“I treat everyone like they’re innocent until my imagination proves otherwise.”
Dear Jay Gunsauls
Wednesday Nov. 4th Belize Harvest Caye
At 8 a.m., we pull into Harvest Caye, Belize — NCL’s private island. Yes, it’s technically in Belize, but let’s be honest: this is not the “real” Belize. It’s a purpose‑built, 75‑acre resort designed so cruisers can relax, swim, and eat in a perfectly controlled “bubble”. Or, more accurately, it’s designed so NCL can keep everyone comfortably under its wing and encourage passengers to spend their hard‑earned vacation dollars right here, because everything on this island costs extra — unlike other cruise‑run islands where your ship card magically buys you drinks and lunch.
That said, Harvest Caye is undeniably pretty and peaceful. The centerpiece is a massive resort‑style pool that’s roughly the length of a football field and about half as wide, shaped into a very convincing “lake with a swim‑up bar.” It isn’t heated, but in 88‑degree Belize weather, “not heated” translates to “refreshing. There’s also a saltwater lagoon for people who enjoy water sports, and a 7‑acre beach.
For the adventurous, there’s snorkeling at the Belize Barrier Reef second only to the Great Barrier Reef in Australia. This is, of course, something we also will not be doing. We already have our 20‑year‑old memories of snorkeling the actual Great Barrier Reef, and that’s plenty. At this age, the only thing we’re diving into is a lounge chair, and frankly, we’re quite good at it.
We had a perfectly pleasant day. We swam a little, read a little, and then took a short wander through the Wildlife area, gawking at parrots and toucans. We, like most people, like to gawk at them because they are colorful, they talk, pose well for photographs. It feels tropical and gives us that “we’re on vacation” feeling. We stepped into the butterfly enclosure, which was charming enough, and then very intentionally passed the snake pit because it’s an absolutely not.
By early afternoon, we were already strolling back to the ship for a free margarita — a choice many others also made, because deciding between a $15 margarita and a free one is not exactly a hard decision.
Tonight we were off to the Food Republic, a share everything and tapas style restaurant with fusion style dishes that you order on a tablet and are amazed when they actually show up at your table. Way too much food for such a small table. Maybe we ordered twice the lettuce wraps by mistake.
Dear Blog
Wednesday Nov. 4th Belize Harvest Caye
At 8 a.m., we pull into Harvest Caye, Belize — NCL’s private island. Yes, it’s technically in Belize, but let’s be honest: this is not the “real” Belize. It’s a purpose‑built, 75‑acre resort designed so cruisers can relax, swim, and eat in a perfectly controlled “bubble”. Or, more accurately, it’s designed so NCL can keep everyone comfortably under its wing and encourage passengers to spend their hard‑earned vacation dollars right here, because everything on this island costs extra — unlike other cruise‑run islands where your ship card magically buys you drinks and lunch.
That said, Harvest Caye is undeniably pretty and peaceful. The centerpiece is a massive resort‑style pool that’s roughly the length of a football field and about half as wide, shaped into a very convincing “lake with a swim‑up bar.” It isn’t heated, but in 88‑degree Belize weather, “not heated” translates to “refreshing. There’s also a saltwater lagoon for people who enjoy water sports, and a 7‑acre beach.
For the adventurous, there’s snorkeling at the Belize Barrier Reef second only to the Great Barrier Reef in Australia. This is, of course, something we also will not be doing. We already have our 20‑year‑old memories of snorkeling the actual Great Barrier Reef, and that’s plenty. At this age, the only thing we’re diving into is a lounge chair, and frankly, we’re quite good at it.
We had a perfectly pleasant day. We swam a little, read a little, and then took a short wander through the Wildlife area, gawking at parrots and toucans. We, like most people, like to gawk at them because they are colorful, they talk, pose well for photographs. It feels tropical and gives us that “we’re on vacation” feeling. We stepped into the butterfly enclosure, which was charming enough, and then very intentionally passed the snake pit because it’s an absolutely not.
By early afternoon, we were already strolling back to the ship for a free margarita — a choice many others also made, because deciding between a $15 margarita and a free one is not exactly a hard decision.
Tonight we were off to the Food Republic, a share everything and tapas style restaurant with fusion style dishes that you order on a tablet and are amazed when they actually show up at your table. Way too much food for such a small table. Maybe we ordered twice the lettuce wraps by mistake.
Dear Blog
Tuesday Nov. 3rd Roatan
Today we’re in Roatán, Honduras — which has confused several passengers who are wandering around saying things like, “How did we get from Mexico to Honduras overnight?” The answer is simple: the ship moved. People really need to look at a map.
Roatán sits about 40 miles off Honduras, tropical and calm, noticeably safer and more prosperous than the mainland thanks to cruise money. It’s gorgeous, but you have to dodge the cruise‑port chaos and tourist traps. We headed straight to Sol y Mar Beach Club, a quiet little pocket wrapped around a shallow, calm lagoon. Best part: no aggressive vendors doing the “You buy from me?” ambush. Bliss.
We spent the day in our floaty recliners — inflatable tubes with a soft net sling that basically turn the ocean into an 86‑degree armchair. Perfect in calm water.
Jay isn’t into coconuts. After a few childhood years in the Philippines, coconuts weren’t a treat — they were the everything. There’s an ad that says, “people are cuckoo for coconuts;” Jay simply is not.
While we floated, plenty of passengers went off to find Roatán’s sloths, monkeys, iguanas, parrots, and whatever else is out there living its best life. Sloths are cute, slow, very “namaste, I live in a tree.” Monkeys?
Absolutely not. After Africa, I’ve completed the monkey portion of my life. They’re fast, chaotic, and will swipe your food or your bag before you blink.
Back on the ship, we cleaned up and headed to Cagney’s — the usual ritual. Big steak, big potato, the cruise‑world shrine. We skipped the Monkey La La (fresh banana, coconut cream, vodka, Kahlúa, Baileys, chocolate) and went with pinot gris instead.
Overall, a good day. Tomorrow is Belize. As they used to say on Days of Our Lives: “Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives.”
Dear Blog
Day 4, November 2nd Cozumel, Mexico
At 8 a.m. we pulled into Cozumel, Mexico — famous for its beaches, snorkeling, and diving. We’d researched beach clubs with loungers, umbrellas, calm water, limited guests, and a quick taxi ride from the port. Basically, our exact vibe. But by the time we chose one, it was already full.
A quick check explained why: four cruise ships in port, roughly 19,000 passengers pouring ashore. With that kind of crowd, we decided this was the perfect day to stay onboard. It was the first stop of the cruise, and I’d bet about 89% of guests were heading out — which meant the ship would be wonderfully quiet. And it was.
Cruise ships offer every kind of activity imaginable: shore excursions, theater shows, thrill rides (roller coasters, water slides, race tracks), deck parties, dance parties, exercise classes, trivia, bingo, spa time, pools, hot tubs, karaoke, casino games, and even napkin folding. Yes, we actually did that once. It was a long cruise.
The variety exists because everyone has their own idea of fun. I know this better than most — five years running a senior center, three years managing a YMCA, and later building a community education program for a college. We offered all the non‑credit “fun” classes: gardening, Tai Chi, ballroom dancing, computer basics, even how to plan walking trips on historic footpaths in England. Higher ed can get a little snooty about anything outside academia, but my program earned real respect because it filled a need and brought in serious revenue. Plenty of people already had their degrees; they just wanted to keep learning and explore new interests.
After all those years, one truth stands: everyone has their own comfort zone and curiosity. Give people options, and they’ll drift toward whatever speaks to them. No right, no wrong. But some choices do make you quietly think, well… what the hell.
So, what kind of fun did we choose today? Pure poolside bliss. I ordered Diet Coke, Jay went for the Bahama Mama (which is practically an activity by itself), and we split a juicy burger with fries delivered right to our loungers. We sat there soaking in the views across the water, eating our burgers, and enjoying the quiet. Honestly, it doesn’t get better than that.
Tonight we went to Le Bistro, the upscale French restaurant where we go when we want to pretend we’re elegant. It’s French and moody and the French Onion soup is delicious. I chose to let the snails remain exactly where they belong, on someone else’s plate.
Blog
Sunday, Nov. 1st Sea Day
Galveston seems to be an old gulf harbor town that is a little worn, a bit gritty but surprising likeable for its attempt to be like New Orleans.
Yesterday when we sailed out, it struck me that leaving Galveston is not what anyone would call beautiful. You start off surrounded by a massive cruise terminal, endless parking lots, warehouses, and every piece of port machinery known to mankind — very industrial, not scenic.
But once the ship makes a long, slow turn toward the Gulf, everything shifts. The channel stretch is so much nicer than the dock: more coastal, more open, and full of wildlife. Pelicans were literally flying right alongside us like they were our personal escort team. And then, the moment you clear the channel, it becomes a completely different world — wide blue water, warm Gulf breeze, and yesterday we lucked into a golden sunset. We watched it from the Observation Lounge, panoramic windows glowing, sitting in a comfy chair with an equally comfy glass of wine.
Today is a sea day we will be cruising through the Gulf of America to Mexico some 600 miles to reach our first port, Cozumel. As I have probably said a zillion times, I like sea days they are relaxing, you pick and choose when and where you go and door chose to do nothing and read that $20.00 book you picked up at the thrift store for a buck. It is the sea days where you really begin to appreciate the cruise ship and an important part of the cruise, the food.
We’ve been cruising for about 20 years, and it really feels like cruise‑ship dining — and even nice restaurant dining — just isn’t what it used to be. Back on our first cruise, the waiters would march in at the end of dinner with baked Alaska under silver lids, parade through the dining room, stop at each table, lift the lid, and Wa-la — flames, drama, the whole show. It felt special. It felt memorable.
Now? Prices are up, quality is down, and that “wow” factor has faded. Everyone’s dealing with the same problems: rising costs, staffing shortages, and menus built around safe, cheap crowd‑pleasers. So, everything ends up tasting… fine. Not bad. Not great. Just okay. Both cruises and restaurants aim for “no complaints” instead of excellence, which is why the food feels mild, predictable, and a little boring.
Excellence is expensive. Mediocrity is profitable.
So, what did we have for dinner last night? The popular dishes everyone else probably ordered too. shrimp cocktail, the lamb chop for Jay, steak for me. These days lobster or ‘surf and turf’ is not offered every night on a cruise; it is only available at the specialty restaurants you pay extra for.
This morning Jay ordered Eggs Benedict — very fancy — and it arrived beautifully plated. He loved it. But honestly, when you break it down, it’s an English muffin, an under‑cooked egg, a slice of ham, and a sauce someone had to whip into existence. The only truly “fancy” part is the hollandaise, which is basically warm butter beaten into submission.
And that’s the magic: we would never make this at home. Whipping up hollandaise on a Wednesday morning? Or a Sunday? Absolutely not. That’s never happening in our kitchen.
Maybe that’s exactly why cruising feels indulgent. We get to eat things we’d never bother making ourselves. Too much work, too much fuss — and that’s what makes meals fun out at sea. Someone else is waiting on you, pampering you, reminding you that you’re on vacation and your only job is to enjoy it.
So tonight, after dinner were off to the show Motor City Moves supposably a high energy tribute to Detroit iconic sound.
Tell you about it tomorrow.
Blog
Saturday October 31st Mexico Cruise
Yesterday, after landing at Hobby Airport in Houston, we grabbed a cab and headed toward our hotel. Our driver, Herb, was right on time. We actually found him through online reviews — who knew taxi drivers had Yelp‑style fan clubs? — and he lived up to every glowing comment. reliable, friendly, and apparently the kind of driver who’ll even swing by Buc‑ee’s so passengers can stock up on snacks for the hour‑long ride to Galveston. We didn’t feel the need to stop for Buc‑ee’s sweet tea or that famous Beaver Nugget stuff — supposedly caramel‑coated corn puffs that Texans swear are perfect for road‑trip munching — but Herb still got us to Galveston to the Tremont Hotel without a hitch.
The Tremont House is a restored historic hotel in the middle of Galveston’s Strand District. The rooms are simple, comfortable, and have that “boutique historic” vibe instead of the usual chain‑hotel copy‑paste. The best part is the location — you can walk to restaurants, shops, and the cruise terminal without dealing with shuttles or chaos.
After a free breakfast we rolled our suitcases about a block to the Norwegian VIVA. The ship is beautiful. Our Haven Penthouse is, too. The Haven is NCL’s quiet little bubble: private elevators, butlers, and lounges with their own restaurant, bar, pool, and sun deck. This is what I call a Vacation with a capital V. It costs more — and yes, it’s worth it.
As with any first day on a cruise, people‑watching becomes the ship’s most unpublished activity, everyone does but nobody admits to. The characters are already in full bloom the moment you step onboard.
You’ve got Deck Walker already doing laps with the intensity of someone training for a triathlon. The Chair Napper, asleep in a lounger at 9 AM, 11 AM, 2 PM, the Overly Friendly Guy, determined to learn where you’re from, what you do, your cat’s name, and whether you’ve ever considered moving to Arizona. The Glamour Couple, dressed like they’re attending the Oscars even at breakfast — she’s in sequins, he’s in linen, both wearing sunglasses indoors. Of course, to balance those out the people there are those blissfully unaware that “smart casual” does not mean swim trunks and a tank top. And lastly of course, the ‘I Paid for this cruise lady’ loudly reminding everyone she intends to get her money’s worth while arguing with a bartender about the drink package or always at the concierge desk asking for something, anything.
And if you really want entertainment, head to the buffet. That’s where people‑watching goes from a casual pastime to a full‑blown art form. Every deck, lounge, and buffet line turns into a stage of characters who don’t even know they’re performing — that’s entertainment. Enough said. We’re seasoned cruisers at this point; we know what makes us happy. Give us easy luxury and comfortable surroundings, and we slip into cruise rhythm instantly. Meanwhile, we stay endlessly entertained by the people who haven’t figured it out yet.
It’s Halloween on the VIVA and many guests are dressed up. Some probably won’t look much different tomorrow morning.
See you tomorrow.
Blog
Friday October 30th Mexico Cruise
We’re off again… yes, another vacation, another trip. This time we’re heading back to the future on a short cruise to Cozumel, Roatán, and Costa Maya, Mexico. Sure, we’ve been there, done that — but have we really?
After visiting 130 countries, we love to brag that we’ve “seen it all,” but the truth is… not quite. The more we travel, the more we realize it’s never just about the destination. It’s about the “going”. It’s breaking out of routine. It’s good for us and there is always something new to see, even if you have been there before. Whether it’s just having a simple cup of coffee or a glass of wine in a different place, it somehow feels a little more exciting, a little more enticing, different from your comfortable everyday surroundings at home.
We picked this trip for one very honest reason: we had a $1,200 Norwegian Cruise Line credit burning a hole in our pocket. It was one of those “use it or lose it” situations, so of course we used it. The credit came from an earlier sailing where fares suddenly dropped because a handful of cabins didn’t sell — mostly thanks to a streak of dramatic cruise headlines that made nervous travelers skittish. You know the type: rare events turned into viral panic posts.
All of it is tailor‑made for sensational coverage. None of it made cruising dangerous — it just made cruising sound dangerous, maybe to some people. But for us? Well, our philosophy most of the time is you can stay home and maybe get sick or die, or you can venture out and maybe get sick or die. At least on a cruise, you get a balcony and a buffet.
We’re off again — flying from Reno to Houston and then making our way down to Galveston, Texas. “Galveston, Oh Galveston, I still hear your sea winds blowing” …” it’s our big chance find out why Glen Campbell was singing about. At least we’re in first class, which makes the whole thing feel slightly less like a punishment. Bigger seats, a little more legroom, and maybe even a chance at some shuteye. Plus, a flight attendant who actually has time to check on us instead of sprinting past like they’re in a marathon.
Jay will be sitting close enough to the cockpit to pretend he’s “on standby,” just in case the pilots suddenly need help. Back in the 1970s, when he applied to be a Western Airlines pilot, he actually got real 737 training — learning the controls, practicing takeoffs and landings, the whole behind‑the‑scenes pilot routine. Of course, today’s planes are basically spaceships compared to what he trained on… but don’t worry. Jay is fully prepared to save the day with his vintage skills.
So, I’ll end this story not by telling you what we did today or what we ate, but how we’re feeling — in a nutshell, it’s nice to go, because we know when we get home it’ll be nice to return. That’s the rhythm of travel: a little chaos, a little comfort, and the reminder that both leaving and coming back have their own kind of magic.
Blog
Friday October 30th Mexico Cruise
We’re off again… yes, another vacation, another trip. This time we’re heading back to the future on a short cruise to Cozumel, Roatán, and Costa Maya, Mexico. Sure, we’ve been there, done that — but have we really?
After visiting 130 countries, we love to brag that we’ve “seen it all,” but the truth is… not quite. The more we travel, the more we realize it’s never just about the destination. It’s about the “going”. It’s breaking out of routine. It’s good for us and there is always something new to see, even if you have been there before. Whether it’s just having a simple cup of coffee or a glass of wine in a different place, it somehow feels a little more exciting, a little more enticing, different from your comfortable everyday surroundings at home.
We picked this trip for one very honest reason: we had a $1,200 Norwegian Cruise Line credit burning a hole in our pocket. It was one of those “use it or lose it” situations, so of course we used it. The credit came from an earlier sailing where fares suddenly dropped because a handful of cabins didn’t sell — mostly thanks to a streak of dramatic cruise headlines that made nervous travelers skittish. You know the type: rare events turned into viral panic posts.
All of it is tailor‑made for sensational coverage. None of it made cruising dangerous — it just made cruising sound dangerous, maybe to some people. But for us? Well, our philosophy most of the time is you can stay home and maybe get sick or die, or you can venture out and maybe get sick or die. At least on a cruise, you get a balcony and a buffet.
We’re off again — flying from Reno to Houston and then making our way down to Galveston, Texas. “Galveston, Oh Galveston, I still hear your sea winds blowing” …” it’s our big chance find out why Glen Campbell was singing about. At least we’re in first class, which makes the whole thing feel slightly less like a punishment. Bigger seats, a little more legroom, and maybe even a chance at some shuteye. Plus, a flight attendant who actually has time to check on us instead of sprinting past like they’re in a marathon.
Jay will be sitting close enough to the cockpit to pretend he’s “on standby,” just in case the pilots suddenly need help. Back in the 1970s, when he applied to be a Western Airlines pilot, he actually got real 737 training — learning the controls, practicing takeoffs and landings, the whole behind‑the‑scenes pilot routine. Of course, today’s planes are basically spaceships compared to what he trained on… but don’t worry. Jay is fully prepared to save the day with his vintage skills.
So, I’ll end this story not by telling you what we did today or what we ate, but how we’re feeling — in a nutshell, it’s nice to go, because we know when we get home it’ll be nice to return. That’s the rhythm of travel: a little chaos, a little comfort, and the reminder that both leaving and coming back have their own kind of magic.
Dear Blog
By popular demand, we have figured out a way to include photos in our travel stories. The link here displays the compiled version of our stories sent from Bermuda with the addition of photos.
Dear Blog
Sept. 1st 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.
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.
Dear Blog
August 31st 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.
Dear Blog
August 30th 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.”
Dear Blog
August 28th 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.
Dear Blog
Day Four Friday August 28th 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?”
Dear Blog
Day three August 27th 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.
Dear Blog
August 26th 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.
Dear Blog
August 25th 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.
