Could Bermuda in the Off-Season Be Even More Perfect?
Do you ever dream about having your own private island? Of course, I realise it’s a silly question for all but the bottom third of LUSSO readership – the rest of you, indeed, do have your own private islands, and maybe even two or three of them. But for those of you who read this publication hoping to one day move up to a slightly higher economic stratum, where islands are like antique cars and you can never have too many – surely you dream. You dream of a warm paradise where the beaches are unspoiled – by locals, or, far, far worse, by tourists – the roads unencumbered by traffic, and the entire land yours and yours alone. Even better if there are people willing to cook you food, sell you goods, and chauffeur you to and from the airport.
This paradise has a name, and its name is Bermuda in the off-season. Sure, Bermuda between, say, April and September might be a little rough for your tastes. There are other humans there. Even some Americans, and not particularly attractive ones. They’re polluting the beaches, they’re yelling at each other from much too far away to have polite communication, they’re turning jacket and tie dress codes into wet bathing suits and tank tops. It’s not a pretty sight.
But flip the calendar to the Fall and suddenly, with barely a lowering of the temperature, the island, astonishingly, empties out completely and becomes your very own oasis in the Atlantic. Of course, an island owned by an actual recognised world government is never going to be as perfect as one you rule yourself – but, more than almost anywhere else, Bermuda is at least making an attempt. No sales tax, for instance. And, high enough food prices to turn away all but the at-least-slightly privileged.
Want to swim in the ocean? Well, it might be a touch too chilly, but that’s not Bermuda’s fault, and even if the island were in fact your own, you almost certainly still wouldn’t be able to control the water temperature (scientifically-minded mega-rich excluded). But there’s a heated pool behind virtually every villa, and even in the – gasp! – resorts, which, I promise you, in the off-season can almost feel like your own private estates, complete with room service and hopefully little evidence that other people have ever used these same bed sheets.
But if you want to walk on a gloriously empty pink sand beach, and hope to see some humpback whales in the distance, well, the weather is simply perfect (although the whales likely won’t arrive until winter – but arrive, they will – and I don’t mean the Americans!). And if, somehow, walking on a pristine stretch of beach makes you hungry, for a meal that can match just about any on the continent, Bistro J in downtown Hamilton is one particularly, and surprisingly, excellent choice.
I know, the word “downtown” in that last paragraph is frightening you. You’re picturing people, and traffic, and people. Unworthies, perhaps. Not to worry. Downtown is five blocks long, and if you pass one person, you’re going to pass that same person when you’re heading back in the other direction, because you are the only two people on the island. So just pretend she’s a desperate cousin you’ve graciously allowed to stay here in your private getaway, and ignore her.
Perhaps the best proof that Bermuda in the off-season is a perfect place to be, is that there is a website called “Nothing To Do In Bermuda” and it is forced to list lectures at the local college as potential tourist activities.
Yes, this is a place where doing nothing but staring at the sunset is not only allowed, but almost required.
So, readers, stop looking at listings for bargain-basement islands in less-than-desirable locations, just to have somewhere you can be alone. Little rock formation off the coast of Greenland? It’s not worth it. Even if you bring your private chef, and train him how to drive you around in a snow machine. You can have it all, with beautiful beaches, hardly any people, even a supermarket that sells expensive bottles of wine, and weather to make your friends back home awfully jealous. Assuming you have friends. If you’re too rich to have friends, just imagine I said ‘ex-wives’ instead.
Bermuda in the off-season. Your own Atlantic paradise.