SK

Christmas is coming, and in 6 days I'll be getting on a plane to head back home for the holidays. I've always loved flying. Obviously, there's the magic of sitting in a steel container thousands of feet above the earth, jetting at super human speeds towards your destination. But there's a comforting disconnect that comes with flying as well, one that is perhaps felt even more acutely in today's world of endless notifications and updates. Please turn of your electronic devices. It's an order that I happily follow. Airplane mode, for me, is simply off. While in-flight wi-fi is gradually becoming more widely available, I haven't yet had the misfortune of having it on any of my flights, and if I have, I haven't felt the need or desire to use it.

Stepping onto an airplane, then, can be a kind of step into the past, as far as telecommunications are concerned. While airplane travel is not as glamorous as it once was (they don't even serve you a hot meal anymore), the disconnection that it provides still lends a little bit of that bygone romance. The whole concept of being able to get on a plane in Toronto and get off in Bermuda in a few hours is amazing in itself. Every time I arrive at the airport, I stand at the screen that lists flights with their departure information. I imagine myself walking up to a counter, buying a ticket, and disappearing to someplace halfway across the world. The sheer possibility is exhilarating.

This romantic association with air travel is probably the reason I find myself so attracted to vintage travel posters. Offering a taste of the glamour without the any of the cost, they depict colourful scenes of exotic landscapes and architectural landmarks. Destinations are printed across the images in large capital letters. People are often absent or relegated to the background, except maybe for a young female, be she a traditionally garbed local or a fashionable jet setter.

Bermuda, being a vacation destination itself, boasts many posters of this kind. I remember sitting in The Specialty Inn as a kid, waiting for my vanilla milkshake, and gazing at the large prints that hung around the room. The Bermuda posters tend to feature young, smiling, couples, presumably on their honeymoon, exploring the island by bike or by carriage. Other posters focus on the physical beauty of the island, emphasizing the flora, the beaches, or the distinctive Bermuda cottages. All of the posters, though, convey similar sentiments: Bermuda is a calm refuge from the hustle and bustle of modern life; an island paradise inviting you to explore and discover its wonders.

These posters depict a fantasy, of course. After all, they are advertisements. The vintage ads aren't even photographs, they're illustrations— further abstracting themselves from reality. And considering the intended audience of the ads, the posters only portray a very limited picture of the island. While acknowledging that these posters present just one experience of the island, a dated and extremely privileged one, at that, I still think that most modern Bermudians would be able to connect with them. Bermuda being a tourist destination can be a great source of pride. Of course people want to visit! It is beautiful. It is paradise. And for us, it's home. I can't wait to be back.