It's that time again. Summer heat is here. And so the comparisons begin from my folks in Dubai & Bombay thinking that they're the only ones suffering the from the heat and that it's just exclusive to them. Just so y'all know, Cayman is just as hot as Dubai & Bombay. How do I know this? Check out the weather map on the left.
It is often difficult to stay away from saying things that are stereotypical. Or thinking it, for that matter. Especially when it comes to a particular race. Growing up in Dubai, I'd often hear my parents talk about workplace politics that involved a particular race (let's call them Race X from now on) and try as they might to avoid it, the inevitable common thread always revealed itself. Years later I now find myself working with Race X and so far I have been great at keeping the stereotypical thoughts at bay, especially considering I myself belong to a particular race. Until recently, that is. That common thread with Race X has not only revealed itself, but it has begun to fray, making it very difficult to keep an open mind while I work with this particular group of people. While from their perspective it may seem that this particular trait might be harmless, it is one that seems to be creating obstacles at work and negatively affecting workplace efficiency. I can now understand the government’s motives on placing restrictions on whichever expatriate race it is that is found on any given island in large numbers all in the name of wanting to promote a social balance.
Seems like everyone got this viral flu/cold/cough that's been going around. And I mean EVERYONE! Family & friends in Canada & the Middle East seem to be sick just as much as friends and co-workers here in Cayman. How do I know this? Well, there's Facebook that lets you know the intricate minute little details of one's health status, it's easy not to keep track of how every one's feeling.
Which makes me wonder...would you rather be sick on a Caribbean island, a desert or a freezing, wintry, snowy climate like Canada. Bear in mind that with today's Global Warming kicking up a scream, the desert's climate is much like a cross between the Caribbean and Canada. It may not snow but it definitely has been raining and it definitely has been chilly. Would you get better faster in a warmer Caribbean climate, bearing in mind that your recuperation environment is kept stable with the a/c running OR would you get better faster in a Canadian climate, with the heat running constantly that you feel like you're in a sauna. OR would it depend on motivating factors like: Caribbean climate = beaches = wanting to get better faster so you can hit the beach; or Canadian climate = -20 deg C temperatures coupled with snow = making you NOT wanting to lug your butt to work, giving you an excuse to stay in longer?
Which is it?
Christmas celebrations in the Middle East can vary depending on where in the mid east you are. Some are, believe it or not, a little liberal than most. Saudi Arabia for instance, does not tolerate any other religions. My uncle, TigerBeer often watches Christian services on TV and will on seperate occasions also sneak in some liquor to celebrate the holidays or just any weekend. Alchohol is not permitted in the Kingdom.
But like I said, not all Muslim countries are that conservative. Growing up, most malls in Dubai had Christmas trees, lights and Christmas décor. We were not allowed, however, to put up any stars. In India, having a lit up paper made star hanging off the balcony outside one's home is an integral part of Christmas décor. These Christmas stars really are beautiful, one more elaborate than the next, some even depicting the Nativity scene. This was something I missed during all those Christmases in Dubai. The reason it was taboo was not because it was Christian but because of the fact that the star also represents the Star of David. The Star is to the Jewish people, what the cross is to Christians.
Back in those days my mother worked for a government institution. Every time we'd call her at work, and were put on hold, a lovely little tune played, probably preselected by one of their phone tech guys. It's a tune that has been ingrained in our brains, because that's how often we'd call Mom while she was at work – and that's how often we were put on hold, especially when we kids were misbehaving. Time out was a tune we had to listen to. Of course, back in the day we didn't know the name of the tune, nor the words.
Fast forward to many years later and much older, and rifling through a hymn book at Church where I turn to the required tune and as we begin to sing it, it hits me. THIS IS THE NAMELESS TUNE!!!! Oh! I looked over at my mother with eyes wide open with recognition, then delight and finally satisfaction and began talking.
This nameless tune now had a name and the lyrics went like this:
What Child is this who, laid to rest
On Mary's lap is sleeping?
Whom Angels greet with anthems sweet,
While shepherds watch are keeping?
This, this is Christ the King,
Whom shepherds guard and Angels sing;
Haste, haste, to bring Him laud,
The Babe, the Son of Mary.
Oh satisfaction indeed. Dubai is not the kind of place where it's completely anti-Christian, there are many churches, schools that have been named after Christian godheads and saints. And I believe that all places should be tolerant of all religions no matter where. And not being allowed to put up a Christmas star took something away from me all those years. But while I'd imagine many many Arabs would call in for Customer Service related queries all the while being oblivious to the fact that they were listening to a Christian Carol about Christ the King while on hold – now that's giving me something back.
I wonder if that tune is still played while people are put on hold...
Is it just me or does everyone think up of scenarios that could possibly go wrong when certain details are revealed while conversation with a loved one back home. Is this a sign of growing older, knowing full well that being cautious does not necessarily mean that you're wiser? Or is this something that expats feel more so, when they're cut off from their family back at home? Like as if our presence back home would somehow lend to a 24 hour case of protection of that particular loved one, ironic when you wonder how they managed to stay out of harm's way when you both lived in the same city and yet had different daily agendas. Am I making sense?
Well, let's see, of late, my parents in Toronto could tell me a certain something and WHAM out of now where I am thinking of all these scenarios that could go wrong, which follows up with me telling them to be extra cautious, without saying too much, in the event I'd freak them out. I'd like to point out that I am not psychic but these thoughts inevitably occur at times. Is it just me? Am I on edge? Am I losing it? Wanting to have a sliver of control in this highly unstable world. Maybe it's not a question of control but a question of peace of mind. Or maybe it's just a question of protection, or safety. Safety. That's it! We all just want to be safe. Feel safe. Safety for us, our families, no matter where we are, no matter how far the divide. Feeling safe! Just like everyone in Bombay would like to be feeling right now. I hope my friends & family in Bombay are staying safe. I hope the hostages are set free and this is all resolved with justice rightly served. This is much too sad and much too worrying.
Maybe it's just not me at all...maybe you've been feeling it too. All my expats, all around the world, care to weigh in? I love to know what you think just so I know I'm not going crazy!
Growing up in Dubai, the beaches yielded plenty crabs and clams. All that has changed now as the crabs and clams have dwindled thanks to all that construction that has been eating up the beaches. Back then, when I was a child, the relatives would get together and head out to the beach for an all day and all night beach BBQ event. You haven't experienced the ultimate BBQ until you've hung around us. Orange tarps were put up to shade us from the hot desert sun, little floatable rafts were blown up for us kids to chill in out in the ocean and tandoori chicken, lamb sheek kabobs and marinated pork would be grilling on those old time wood/coal fire grills. We kids were also taught how to dig up for clams. Well, we had to earn our keep, right? Along with our moms, we'd haul in buckets of clams by the end of the day. And once night fell, the head honchos would head out to catch crabs, blue Dubai crabs, as seen HERE. It was very important that this night was a 'No Moon' night, as it was called - because that's when the crabs come out to eat. And buckets of them, our fathers would catch. At the end of the night everything would be divided equally and as soon as we got home, Mom would cook up the clams and crabs in a coconut curry. DELICIOUS! When we moved to Canada, we didn't really eat crabs for a long time, until I found the very same blue crabs in Chinatown and since then we've been inviting those blue crabs to join us at the table.
Here in North America, it's the Alaskan King Crab that is popular. And while the North American way of cooking crabs is very different, and by different I mean devoid of spices, it's true that you haven't tasted crab until you've had it in a coconut curry. What I don't like about the King Crab legs i
s that they come partially cooked and laid on ice and that's no way to go. In my opinion, the best way to cook crab is to add it to that coconut curry when it's raw. In my experience, it tastes better when it's cooked from scratch. I made the Goan/Mangalorean Coconut Crab Curry with King Crab legs here a little while ago, for Hubby's birthday. It was delicious and tasted even better the next day (which is normally the case for crabs when cooked this way). As my childhood friend, Pedro asked me the details on the birthday meal, I began to think about the King Crab legs. They're pretty long and meaty and this left me wondering, what does the actual King Crab look like and what is done with the rest of it. A little bit of research via Google Images, yielded me THIS! And as I went through the images I sent over this particular one to Pedro, he like I was dumbfounded. He more so, because he called over all his co workers who were 'pouring in' to look at it. I am not sure if my family or friends back in India or Dubai have actually seen the King Crab before and so to them I say, check out the King Crab. It's crab like you have never seen before.
My version of the Goan/Mangalorean Coconut Crab Curry. If you do end up trying this out, email me and let me know how yours turned out.
Ingredients:
5 medium blue crabs (preferably raw), each about 500 g OR 1½ lb of King Crab Legs.
½ cup of water
50 g Tamarind pulp (available @ at Kirk's Supermarket/Grand Cayman in the Indian Foods section).
2 teaspoons Ginger-Garlic paste
1½ teaspoons red Chili Powder or Paprika (optional)
2 teaspoons ground Cumin
2 teaspoons Garam Masala and/or All Spice
2 tablespoons Coconut Oil
150 g Onions, thinly sliced
½ teaspoon Salt, or to taste
½ teaspoon Black Pepper, or to taste
300 ml Coconut Milk
2 Scallions (green onions)
Directions:
If you're using the whole Blue Crab: cut each crab into 4 or 5 pieces (snap off legs, and cut the body in half once the shell has been removed and the small stomach sac behind the mouth and the inedible grey feathery gills are removed). Rinse under cold water to clean.
If you're using King Crab Legs (preferably raw & fresh): cut off the spiky points on the leg as these are very sharp. Run your fingers over the legs to ensure no sharp bits have been left behind. Rinse under cold water.
Heat up Coconut Oil and add Onions & sauté them until softened and light brown.
Add ginger garlic paste, cumin, garam masala or all spice (or both!) and red chili powder (optional) & sauté gently for 3-4 minutes.
Add ½ cup of water, tamarind pulp and salt. Bring to a simmer then add the coconut milk and simmer again.
Finally add the crabs and simmer for about 5 - 8 minutes until cooked.
Add chopped scallions at the end after the heat has been turned off.
Serve with rice.
A chilled fruity white wine is a great compliment with this meal. Chilled beer may also be served.
To this day, I have never been able to understand sibling rivalry. I have just one sibling, my younger brother, Newt and there is absolutely no sibling rivalry between us, never has been. As a child he'd always copy me and thankfully he hasn't continued this trend into adulthood because he is way more successful than I. Not only can he solve pretty much any darn computer problem, he's a wiz with math and not to mention his writing style can kick mine out the window anyday. I've mentioned numerous times how he should blog but that's never going to happen.
Although, we'd fight a lot growing up (and sometimes still do), it's all forgotten in the next five minutes. We can never be angry at each other for very long, which is a good thing, because he'd be bored out of his mind. Just a few days ago, I was discussing this post with him, since he rarely reads my blog. And as predicted, he pitched a fit about pasting our online conversation on the blog, but thankfully followed that up with a 'Oh but I liked how you called me a lean mean teasing machine.' (!?!?!)
It's his birthday today and even though we are a year and a half apart, I can't believe how old he is now. I cannot imagine what it would have been like growing up without him, because all his daring boy antics (stupid at times) and all the ridiculous tricks we played on each other made things so much fun. I post this picture of us (him in his leather jacket and all), taken sometime in the 80's. I love this picture because it always reminds me of how much he looked up to me at that age, not to mention how he'd always come running to me to solve his school bullies of a problem. This was also the age where he'd stick to my side as we traveled unaccompanied between Dubai and Bombay, afraid that I might lose him at any moment at the airport or during the transoceanic flight. Stuck to my side, I tell you. So many memories, so little time. Besides, I'd better stop because he hates it when I get all emotional.
Happy Birthday, Bro! I'm so proud of you!!!
I don't know what it is, but I have always been drawn to fish markets. Perhaps it all started way back when, as a child in Bombay, my paternal grandmother would take me to the Kalina fish market with her. It was not too far a walk from where we lived and I loved entering the market, ready to discover what was in 'stock' for the day. I remember the dim incandescent lighting, the blue crabs in weaver baskets (and my grandmother haggling for them), the many rows of and the smell of fish. This continued in Dubai as well, where we were not too far from the Sharjah fish market or the ocean. They say to involve your children in the grocery shopping process - I can see why because back then, a trip to the fish market was always exciting.
It's no surprise then that my very first on island picture of Cayman was the makeshift permanent fisherman's stall. Located by the harbour in Georgetown, this is the place to go if you want to get the freshest catch of the day. Unlike in Bermuda, where the fisherman sell their catch by the roadside all over the island, where you have to watch for signs, because they're not there everyday, Cayman has one designated spot. And this is it. Look at the size of those red snapper suckers!
And speaking of fish, if you're ever in Bombay you have to try the local fish, available ONLY in Bombay's waters, compared to the rest of India. It's called the Bombay Duck, or bombil and it's the tastiest fish you'll ever sample. Try it fried though - no other way is better. And if you're reading the article in the above link, pay no mind to what it says about the smell or odour of the fish. They exaggerate!
A tribute to my beloved maternal grandmother who passed away 10 years ago, this day.
Lenny P.
Nurse, Feminist, beloved Mother & Grandmother
Feb 9, 1924 - June 21, 1998
A woman with gumption, who could see right through anyone and was not afraid to tell you like it was. Word is that this is where Ms Cute Pants gets her sassiness from.
Loved hard boiled eggs and was often heard saying that she'd come back from the dead just to eat one.
An ambitious woman, she was the first woman in her family to go out and work.
Caught my Grandfather's eye one morning as she was on her way to work. They were married shortly after in 1945.
A nurse who moved to Dubai in the mid 70's to work as an expat and was often sent into interior areas due to her Nursing skills. (Pictured here with a Lebanese baby she helped deliver back in the day).
Had the best bargaining/haggling skills you'd have ever seen. Ms Cute Pants has seen and learned.
Loved her grandchildren dearly and was not afraid to show it.
Was an occasional smoker and so in an effort to mimic her, as kids, my brother & I would buy candied cigarettes, pop 'em in our mouths and pretend to smoke, saying: "Grandma, look we're smoking too." It is perhaps for this reason that she eventually stopped smoking (at least I'd like to think it was).
An absolute no nonsense woman and a firm believer in the adage: Spare the rod, spoil the child.
Would watch many Hindi movies (each a standard 3 hours long), only to proclaim at the end of each one: ah bundle, no? Which basically translated into: 'What a load of crap!' This never varied, even if it was a movie she liked.
Had the funniest phrases ready to use at a moment's notice which I'd not dare repeat here. My mother would disown me. (But if you're really interested, email me).
The best mother-in-law there ever was (and we all know how rare that is).
Was always fun to hang around with.
Suffered a stroke while in her 60's but came back with a bang and better than ever, not surprising given the kind of woman she was.
I dedicate this song to her. She'd blast it on the boom box and sing it to me when I was a wee toddler, complete with hand motions always telling me: 'This is our song'.
It sure is Grandma, which is why I have it on my playlist & think of you every time I hear it.
UPDATE:
A note from my Godmother:
That was a very beautiful tribute indeed to your grandmother. for your list i would like to add one more string of roses by telling you what a generous heart your grandma had. your mom who was (and is) my friend would tell her mom that I never liked the breakfast served in the convent, and I would go to school on an empty stomach. so your grandma would send additional toast cookies with butter for your mom to share it with me. your mom has inherited this noble quality. i do not know if your mom remembers it, BUT I DO. i never forget the kindness of people. we may not write often but your mom is always in my prayers.
My mother's birthday falls in and around Mother's Day. This year it fell ON Mother's day. Being away makes it harder because I'm not able to celebrate it with the usual fan fare. Most expats arrange to have their mom's receive flowers and timely prearranged gifts. It makes up for their absence, slightly, if any. For the past three years, I've had to leave that upto my brother and ensure, with reminders, that it's her big day. What is it with men and forgetting birthdays? Ok, not all men but most men. Anyway, we try to make up for the fact that she's got to share her birthday with the other all important day. But mom's not so much of a stickler for things such as these. In her own words 'I'd rather forget my birthday'.
I decided to post this picture up and share it with you (and I'm bold enough to, since you won't recognize me from it). It's one of my favourites - me showing my bro some sisterly love, while my mom looks on. I've purposely cut him out of the picture, only because he insanely private and will probably disown me, should I post his picture up here, not to mention carrying out his threats of posting any and all unflattering pics of me for all to see. The fact that I'm even talking about him is ammunition enough. So, here's my brother, Newt; me, MsCutePants & our mom - from the good old days. This is also one of my mom's favourite picture. She's forever lamenting on how she wishes we had stayed this way forever. I'm sure every mother feels the same about their children.
And I just realized it but, my previous post was my 300th. So Happy 300th to me! Never mind that I failed to mark my 100th and 200th post.
Frequent elections are such a waste of financial resources that could be better spent on education or health care, as has been the case in Canada in the past few years. This is the only country that I can relate to personally, since it's here I reached the legal age to vote. And vote I did. At the Federal Election, no less. I was so pleased. I had cast my vote for the party that, I believed would do the least damage, all plotted beforehand by a process of elimination, for isn't that how things go in the political world. I had even rounded up the family, insisting that we all HAVE to vote. My brother stoicly refused, which angered me so. Arguments ensued. His reasons were absurd. Such passivity. I was not pleased about that.
In Dubai, well, the UAE, as expats, my parents & maternal grandparents had no right to vote. Besides, it was just a mini parliment. In actuality, the country is still ruled by seven Sheiks, one for each Emirate. Nevertheless the parliament exists to....well, actually, I don't know why it exists...
But India, well I remember while living in Bombay, when my paternal grandparents would get ready to vote. One of my friend's mother was a very active member in the political arena. If she wasn't running for that particular term, she'd bring around who she was supporting. He like her, like us were Catholic. Funny how I remember thinking: Wait, so you're going to vote for him cause he's of the same religion as us? Never mind that in hindsight this actually did work out. My friend's mom was actually quite the doer and it was whom my grandparents identified with, who they knew could produce results, when things needed to be done. I'm sure my Hindu & Muslim friends' parents felt the same and voted for whom they identified with. Anyway, the yellow voting cards would come in & off they'd go to vote. They'd return back with a permanent ink dot on their thumbnail right near the cuticle, of proof that they had voted. The nail that would not loose its mark until a month or so later, the spot would reach the fingertip's edge, only to be trimmed off. This marking process was to prevent people from voting twice. Your thumbnails would be checked. That was how it was done back then. (I was actually disappointed when I found out they didn't follow this process in Canada. I was really looking forward to my thumbnail being marked with that black dot). Anyway, when my grandparents would return back from their voting session, it was all hush hush. They wouldn't tell me nor each other whom they had voted for. They probably thought I'd reveal it to my friends or their parents. They were and probably still are firm believers in privacy when it comes to politics. And although I did have an inclination that it might be my friend's mom or her friend, I never did find out.
Come Tuesday, Dec 18th, Bermudians will be lining up to cast their vote for their preferred political party. It's election time. Now, while I won't go into too much detail here, as much as I have been keeping up to date with the news, I do have a couple of things to say. Bermuda does things differently where politics are concerned. The gloves really do come off and sleeves are really rolled up. And politics is very much a topic of discussion on the radio. A couple of weeks ago, an irate caller phoned in one of the radio shows to let the host know that she, along with the rest of Bermuda did not need to constantly have his political choice shoved down their throats at every opportunity, especially since this was not a government radio station. His retort was that he has been fair and has defended actions of both major parties, regardless of his personal party of choice. Her answer therein was that everyone knows where his loyalties lie and it seems like he's influencing his listeners with his political opinions.
The deal is this: In many countries, politics are not discussed on air, unless it's on government radio, or unless it's a specific debate between representatives of both or all parties involved. It's always just the facts that are reported because unintentional as it may be, it's a challenge not to cross that fine line, which inadvertently does get crossed, when said discussions take place on air. These discussions are formed opinions that many times blindsides the population into voting for someone just because they like the on air personality (as an example). That's my take on it, which by the way went through my mind the very first time I, in disbelief, heard this host rendering his political opinions on air.
Alright, enough said. I now end this post on a comical note, says a Bermudian landlord to his expat government employed tenant:
You work for the government, they must have told you who's going to win the election!
!?!?!
I've heard that some people are allergic to bee stings. Now, I've never been stung by a bee (yet) & have no idea what it would feel like or if I would be allergic. You never really know until you've received your first sting. I may have come close to it though. I remember a particular incident with bees while I was in my teens, living in Dubai. Our third & final residence was a third floor apartment with an extra long balcony, that probably stretched about 40 feet in length. A few years into our residence, we started to notice bees hovering outside our windows. About one or two everyday, but their appearances were consistent. We could not explain it. Until that is, we (my father & I) decided to spring clean the corner of our balcony. Stacked behind an old bicycle, some boxes (and other things I cannot seem to recall), we were amazed to find a bee hive. And now we knew why we alone were privy to the appearance of bees. Unfortunately, we had to get rid of the bees, by a process of which I will not & cannot go into. I felt guilty enough getting rid of the bees. My father was adamant we get rid of them now that there would be nothing for them to hide behind. In the moments to follow, I was an accessory to murder, more like an annihilation. You may think I'm being a tad dramatic, but you'll see. To make matters worse, once we got rid of those bees, we were left with their life's work - HONEY!
There are a couple of interesting facts about honey. The first: babies under the age of two should NOT be given honey (among strawberries & peanut butter), due to its allergy causing factor. The second: its lack of an expiration date. That's right. If stored correctly, honey does not spoil & can last forever. I recently read that a discovery of an Egyptian tomb in a pyramid, also yielded within the tomb, a container of honey. Pyramids are known to be thousands of years old & the honey found in that pyramid was no exception. Of course, it was put to the test & amazingly, it tasted like a batch of honey that was extracted yesterday. A two thousand year old jar of honey??? You need a moment to digest that fact? Go ahead. I sure did.
Too often we look at buzzing bees with annoyance. Much too ready to kill them off before there's a chance they'd sting someone, not much thought is given to their importance & how vital they are. Of course, you're thinking the only thing they are good for is honey. That's what I thought too, until I watched a shot local documentary last night, on a new Bermudian channel - CITV (I promise to do a post on this at a late date). However, in the meantime, in short, CITV provides information on Bermuda & anything Bermudian. Mini documentaries are just one part of it. Last night it had an excerpt about Bermuda's bees, its beekeeper & the island's honey production. More importantly, it sadly stated that this year's honey production (harvested twice a year) was at its all time low. Add to that, there was also the finding that something is killing off bees & this something is not limited just to Bermuda. I had heard earlier on in the year that bees in other parts of the world are also dwindling in numbers, dropping like flies. Scientists are not sure why. The documentary further went on to say that bees are vital to our survival. Most of our produce (vegetables & fruits) is only possible with the presence of bees & the byproduct of their honey production which is pollination. If the bees were to disappear, we can kiss our vegetables, fruits & flowers goodbye. For first come the flowers & then the fruit & the completion of a flower's life cycle is only possible with pollination. Can you imagine a world without flowers, fruits and/ or vegetables? What on earth would we do? How on earth would the Vegans survive? Perhaps, honey may be the only thing we may have left. And thankfully, it does not expire. How ironic! I can tell you this. I feel terribly guilty, guilty for killing those bees, those years ago. The neglect of our planet, our wanton ways, our misuse of earth's precious resources, our pollution, is all finally, finally catching up with us. It's horrifying to think that the earth as we know it may not be around in about 50 years, at the rate we're going. Heck, I'd settle for 20 years right about now. The bees are just one chapter of this ongoing ecological damage, damage that may be irreversible. Who knows what's next?
Maybe we should start with the bees. SAVE THE BEES, SAVE THE WORLD (Yes, I watch Heroes, thank you). So, the next time you see a bee, what are you going to do? Please for the love of... don't kill it. There will be one less. Dangerously one less. The picture in this post is of Bermuda bees, hard at work (one on a flowering Cacti, the other on a Banana tree flower). How oh, how could we have been so careless?! And what are we doing specifically that's killing off them bees?
For many owning a dog comes with a chore that is perhaps not the best of chores. Many don't see it as a chore for they love their dog that much. Comes with the territory, they say. But what if you've never had a dog, always wanted one & somehow ended up dog sitting. Well, it's a chore now. I am talking about the 'Scoop the Poop' chore. Some of you reading this are thinking, 'Scoop the what? Well, I never!' Well, let me tell you...
Growing up in Dubai, back in the day (and I do mean back in the day), taking your dog out for a walk was not a chore. Bushes & grass were aplenty before the days of massive high rises & architectural marvels, letting your dog do its business in the grass meant no clean up. Now, I never had a dog but my friends did, so that's my source.
When we moved to Canada, our neighbour had the cutest Shitzu & during the summer I volunteered to take her out for a walk during the day. Well, my mom had a field day with the whole scoop the poop policy. I was the target of many many jokes among my family including 'fresh of the boat' uncles & aunts, none of whom were dog owners. Yet! And it was not a pretty job, scooping that poop! But it's the law & a good one at that. Although it would make me irate while walking in the park & coming across that which someone clearly failed to abide by the law. What's their excuse? Oh I forgot a baggie. Oh it's too darn cold.
A few weeks ago, I was at the Bermuda Botanical Gardens & came across the Dogi Pot & I was impressed. What a way to motivate someone to clean up after their dog. Now this is what Toronto needs at every park! You can bet the tax payers will be paying for this but then those with the 'I forgot a baggie' excuse will now longer have an excuse. Dubai now has a scoop the poop policy too. So, maybe they need a Dogi Pot too! But look closer at the pic, it says: A clean solution to dog pollution. I had no idea dogs were polluters. Damn, those mutts get blamed for everything. Poor poochies...
One of the things I love about Bermuda is the wonderful, poignant scent of the ocean. On most evenings, all it takes is one whiff to transport me back to my pre school/kindergarten years in Dubai, where we'd spend evenings at the corniche or the boardwalk, driving around in our little motorized car & motorbike (yes, we had them back then & all I can say is thanks mom & dad). Another whiff takes me back to the hot days we'd spend at the beach, bbqing all day, along with clam digging for us kids following an all night crab catching session for the adults, while we kids warily watched. The onset of construction in the past 10 to 15 years has minimized & in some cases, eliminated some beaches (apparently Dubai now houses 23% of the world's cranes). The crabs & clams are not as plentiful like they were 25 years ago. (Sigh! I am getting to the point where I now use the phrase '25 years ago'). Back then Mom would teach us to look for the bright green tuffs sporadically sprouting from the sand, revealed during the low tide of the day. Digging these tuffs of green & then some sand would yield us a clam. By the end of the day there'd be enough to fill about two to three medium sized buckets. Multitudes of clams, I tell you & oh so delicious once mom cooked them Indian style!
So it's no surprise that the first thing I looked for here on Bermuda's much smaller but beautiful beaches was the evidence of green tuffs peeking from the sand. Alas, there were none. The most you may find are crabs by the rocks, infinitely shy & extremely fast on their legs, but definitely no clams. We have the reefs to blame er... thank for that. While the reefs keep the unwanted sharks & who knows what other marine carnivores out of Bermuda's shores, it also keeps out much of what you would find on any other beach - shells, conchs, that sort of thing. Unless you're cruising the beach in the aftermath of a storm, which does tend to wash ashore some beachy tokens. Any other time, you will leave empty handed. Unless you visit the souvenir shops & take with you some beach memorabilia, but word on the street is that these are imported from Florida. So if you're looking for something plentiful & authentically Bermudian, then its pink laced sand would be it. Unfortunate about the shells, yes but given the choice between sharks or shells, well need I say more....
