It’s been just over two weeks since our arrival, with each day since like a master class in social behavior. Every culture has it quirks, but getting to know them is sometimes the hardest part. Take walking for example. I’ve learned that in Hamilton the crosswalk is king. Step into the thick white lines in town and traffic will stop on a dime. Attempt to jaywalk and you’ll be tempting fate and oncoming motorists. You just don’t do it. Same goes for riding a scooter with your mouth open. It sounds silly, but lest you enjoy snacking on bugs you learn to keep your trap shut while on the road. I’ve learned that beyond being a wonderful shade of pink, Bermuda sand is really, really, sticky. Last night we came home from our weekly game of beach tennis—a wonderful sport that’s a cross between beach volleyball and badminton—and it was as if someone had shake-n-baked me. Even a good scrubbing in the shower proved futile. I’ve learned that you can use the Internet for free, for thirty minutes each day by signing up in the library (you hear that tourists?). I’ve learned that my wife gets even prettier when sitting on the bow of a boat (see above). And I’ve learned that if you want one of the best rum swizzles on the island, to go see Charles at the Newstead Hotel in Belmont. Really, it’s just that good. Friday evenings are a blast, so I’ve learned. After work, most everyone goes to the Hamilton Princess in town or the aforementioned Newstead Hotel for a racous, rum-soaked happy hour. Bands play, friends gather, it’s incredibly civilized. Thank God it’s Friday.