The anticipation that comes with expecting a baby rivals the excitement of a child leading up to Christmas morning. You steep in this expectant joy as the weeks count down further and further. Still so crazy to think that we will be molding Christmas mornings one day for our little girl.
As we prepare for her arrival, we know that life will only get more…exciting (which is code for crazy stressful!). With our already busy lives, we wanted to find time for one more trip – a babymoon – for just the two of us before she arrives (I’ve heard that having kids supposedly changes your lives? #rumors). Yet with our packed schedules, full-time jobs, and the spread of the Zika virus, where could we go for a warm, quick escape from the country/the cold/the NYC subway?!
Introducing: B E R M U D A! Little did I know, this beautiful island is less than three hours from JFK and has had no known local transmission of the Zika virus ( check here for more information). We quickly booked our flights to exchange the bustle of Manhattan for the breeze and beaches of Bermuda.
As we landed, the cerulean hues of Bermuda’s waters immediately made an impression on me. Even waiting for our van to the resort they taunted me from a distance, whispering, “come on in…do it, you won’t.” Our van would periodically stop along road hugging the cliffs to let us gaze and admire the beaches that went on for miles, caressing the beautiful blues of Bermuda’s sampling of the Atlantic. Anyone who knows me knows that I am happiest by the water. All the locals told me no Bermudians go in the water before May. Challenge accepted.
I realize now that I’m not much of a “resort traveler”; I’d much rather dive into a country’s streets, people and culture, rather than be confined within the limits of a resort’s curtailed sense of exploration. As we checked in to our suite, I searched for the quickest way to get down to the beach. I turned to my wife. Babe, we gotta go to the water. My wife is from Texas, and she really needs the water above 60°F before even contemplating going in, but she was up for the adventure. We changed out of our black leather and ripped denim into pink shorts and a beautiful yellow jumper would make anyone say “Hold up, they don’t love you like I love you” (I’ll let you guess who wore what 😉 ). Let the adventure begin.
We left the resort and followed the road down towards the beach. Our feet found this perfectly curated path along the road, revealing an expanding panorama of the water. We then found a sign: “Horseshoe Bay”. The sign led us to a path that transformed from slabs of concrete to dunes of sand, touring along what seemed to be a mild jungle leading up to the smell and sound of the ocean. Suddenly the trees cleared, and white sand welcomed us with open arms. We made it to Horseshoe Bay Beach!
The water was absolutely beautiful. As I waded into the ocean, I could not help but close my eyes, take a deep breath and create a memory of where I was. I turned to my beautiful wife, the wind in her hair and a smile on her face. We had made it to Bermuda.
See original post at thefrenchnewyorker.com
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