Unraveling the Mysteries That Make Up the British Colony of Bermuda : It’s an orderly kingdom of Easter egg-colored homes, tropical beaches and proper English custom--but bring money.

There are titled lords and ladies on this coral-tinted isle, older society types on golf and tennis holidays, well-manicured mobsters, honeymoon couples from Queens. There are cruise passengers, bronzed yachtsmen, and sailors with stunning schooners gliding in and out of the harbor at Hamilton, Bermuda’s capital.

Floating as it does in the center of the Atlantic off the Carolina coast, Bermuda attracts all sorts of far-flung characters whose lives often intersect in the most curious ways. Neither completely American nor totally British in custom and culture, the island often resembles a melting pot of show-biz stars, corporate heads, royalty and fairly well-heeled American tourists.

Ninety percent of Bermuda’s tourists are American, yet many Yankees mistakenly think of it as a Caribbean island. And because Bermuda (actually seven main islets linked by causeways and bridges) is part of a thin, 300-isle archipelago, it’s also confused with the Bahamas--that much larger, 700-island chain 800 miles to the south, with similar lures of warm ocean currents, heady tropical blooms and houses washed in the softest hues. Both were settled by the British, and both still cling strongly to those roots.

Actually, Bermuda is a self-governing British colony only 570 miles east of the U.S. mainland. A well-known entity to East coasters, it’s the traditional spring break spot for upper-crusty university kids (the government actually sanctions “Bermuda College Weeks” with dozens of free events for students), a sporty retreat for their parents and the New Yorker’s version of our honeymoon-Hawaii.

Bermuda is order, tradition and spotless beauty. But above all, it’s an island of money. When you visit her shell-pink shores, don’t leave home without it.

Hotel and, particularly, restaurant prices are the equal of those in European capitals such as Paris or London. A night in one of the best hotels, for example, could cost $200 per person; a top restaurant meal might run $55 a head without drinks and tips. Accommodation rates begin to inch up in late March-early April, and a 6% tax is always added, along with a service charge of 10% (unless otherwise stated). (Rates from October through April are about 40% lower.)

Bermuda is one of the wealthiest countries in the world, a fact the Department of Tourism makes no bones about. The island’s average per capita income is $20,000, with no sales tax, no income tax and, according to the Tourism Department, no slum areas, no major crime and no unemployment. Tourism Department brochures note that off-islanders must prove they have $1 million to become residents of this orderly kingdom.

But so far, the nouveau riche seem to have kept their distance. As one English diplomat put it, “Bermuda is terribly middle-aged,” literally as well as figuratively. Most visitors are over the age of 40, according to the island guidebooks, many hotels don’t cater to or desire children as guests, and some come right out and ban them. The ordered homes and gardens on placid country lanes reflect the suburban British sense of propriety: neat but not gaudy. A penchant for tradition prevails.

Nonetheless, Bermuda has expended a substantial amount of money and effort in the past few years promoting itself as an upscale destination for tourists from across the United States. This is not to suggest for a millisecond that the advertisements are misleading. The island is incredibly tidy, as touted. Its citizens are mad for pastels, and they do christen their Easter egg-colored homes with names such as “Coconut Cottage” and “Windsong.” And there certainly seem to be more golf courses per square mile than anywhere else on earth, as the guidebooks claim. Note, however, that if you’re looking for the hip and the happening, or for the kind of arts-driven, multicultural scene one might find in Kingston, for example, you took a wrong turn at Manhattan.

After spending a week on Bermuda last August, I found that the famed Bermuda shorts are worn (amusingly, with sportcoat, necktie and knee socks) by just about every other tanned businessman on the streets of Hamilton. I also found quite a lot of cashmere sweaters, tartan plaid skirts, Royal Doulton dinner plates and Irish linen tablecloths--a shopper’s heaven for the Harrod’s set.

I found taxi drivers so polite and engaging they’d put a professional tour guide to shame. Bank clerks, shopkeepers and hotel staff seemed unusually good-natured. How the island acquired its undeserved reputation for stuffiness eludes me, so gregarious are these chipper natives.

But where were the famous Bermuda onions, the much-loved “guinea-chicks” (local lobsters that diners die for) and the ritual of formal afternoon tea I’d heard so much about?

These and a few other mysteries of the Bermuda Triangle escaped me. Take that much-publicized “hiker’s paradise,” the Bermuda Railway Trail, which supposedly runs from one end of the island to the other. I can take a joke as well as the next person, but some things aren’t that funny when it’s 90 degrees in the shade and not a rum punch in sight.

The Bermuda Railway, long abandoned, is now an often misleading nature trail that takes you nowhere in particular. The entire railway was actually sold to British Guiana (now Guyana) in 1948, and even the rail ties were removed. If you insist on attempting the trail as a long walk or a bumpy moped ride, be prepared for views of typical Bermuda back yards filled with lines of clean washing, mossy paths leading straight into the sea and signs that usually point the wrong way. If you enjoy garden mazes, the London Times crossword and Rubik’s Cube, this route’s for you.

Regarding transportation, visitors to Bermuda are banned from driving autos (there are no car rentals), so one must be content exploring by bus or taxi, or on the cycles or scooters readily available around the island at rental shops. The maximum speed limit is a yawn-inducing 21 m.p.h., but the jaunty white crash helmets are law--no matter how goofy you look in them. Remember to drive on the left side, British style.

Before commencing, pull out a map and notice beautifully seductive names dotted here and there across the page: Mangrove Bay, Castle Harbour, Tucker’s Town, all within 10 minutes of each other. Bermuda has no rugged mountain peaks, dense jungly rain forests or bubbling volcanoes to impede your progress. It will remind you more of the Cotswolds with mango trees.

Bermuda is divided into nine counties, called parishes. Paget Parish, containing the main city of Hamilton and the island’s seat of government, has the most hotels, but I preferred the spectacular beaches of Warwick and Southampton, neighboring counties on the South Coast, where a stroll or horseback ride at sunset will give you the best impression of a truly “pink sand” beach. Although some of Bermuda’s coral reef has been damaged and the waters overfished, the South Coast snorkel spots of Warwick Long Bay and Horseshoe Bay are the equal of any world-class sea garden for coral and marine life. Three hundred and fifteen days of sunshine (the annual average) should be enough for almost anyone. Summer weather begins in May, continuing through to November, with temperatures in the 90s in late July or August. Despite the rude arrival of Hurricane Emily in 1987 (causing $35 million in damage), there is no rainy season.

Most visitor attractions revolve around Bermuda’s colorful past. It was named for Spanish explorer Juan de Bermudez, who stumbled on the uninhabited archipelago while searching for the New World in 1503. Bermuda was first settled in 1609 when the British ship Sea Venture, carrying pilgrims on their way to the New World, crashed on the craggy reefs outside Great Sound and found the land strangely fertile and the climate mild.

Although most “Bermuda onions,” as those born there are called, speak a formal version of the Queen’s English, I met several who sounded slightly South African. I later read that Afrikaner prisoners from the Boer War, more than 4,000 of them, were relocated to the island after 1901. Approximately 6 out of 10 Bermudans are of African or West Indian ancestry, the decendants of slaves brought to Bermuda before Britain outlawed the slave trade in 1807.

George Bush and Margaret Thatcher are among world leaders who have met for summits on Bermuda; avid golfer Bush may have been swayed by the supreme choice of links. Independent presidential candidate Ross Perot owns two Bermuda vacation homes in Castle Harbour. With 600,000 tourists invading the 54,000-population isle every year, a maddening variety of accommodations has grown up to serve them. Choosing one can be a daunting task. Huge resort complexes loom up here and there, offering private beach clubs, plush health spas and slick “dining experiences.” While the Hamilton and Southampton Princess hotels, Marriott’s Castle Harbour Resort in St. George Parish, and the Sonesta Beach Resort and Spa on the South Shore offer ultra-comfort, once you’re within their million-dollar walls, you may forget you’re even on a subtropical plane.

To keep the Bermuda experience alive, you may want to try a “cottage colony” such as Relais & Chateaux-member Horizons. With 50 hillside rooms in Paget Parish, an antique-stuffed main house dating from 1690, and a sophisticated clientele, it’s private, chic and decidedly low-profile. Another exclusive hide-out is the 64-room Lantana Colony Club on a private beach at Sandys Parish, the southern end of the island (named after early colonial businessman Sir Edwin Sandys). Witty bronze sculptures punctuate more than 20 acres of manicured rose gardens and emerald lawn. From the grand to the guest house, with Bermuda lodgings you generally get what you pay for. But when it comes to dining, it seems to be a completely different story. The island’s restaurateurs are aware they play to a captive audience, and most menus don’t veer far from standard British “pub grub” like shepherd’s pie, and American or Continental seafood dishes. Typical Bermudan cuisine used to mean rockfish, mussel pie, conch fritters or Bermuda fish chowder. Only the latter is still found on every restaurant menu, laced with local black rum and “Outerbridge’s Original Sherry Peppers.” The local spiny lobster, or “guinea-chick,” is only available in winter, but even in that season the fishermen’s hauls are restricted. The fact is that Bermuda’s waters have been decidedly overfished, and with reef destruction adding to the problems, the government has sadly but wisely enforced limits.

Since the majority of dining establishments require rather formal attire (normally jacket and tie for men, even during the steamier months) and reservations, you may want something completely different after a few nights of dressing up. Try the “shark hash” on toast at Dennis’s Hideaway in the old port of St. George--full of narrow alleys and 17th-Century taverns, and a pleasant pit stop if you’re on your way to see St. David’s Lighthouse at the end of the island. Known for some of the isle’s tastiest food, it’s just a grubby pink shack serving steaming mussel stew and pie, as well as the elusive conch fritters, moist and chewy.

In the town of St. George, The Pub on the Square is the local watering hole, serving authentic British steak and kidney pie, overlooking the island’s first settlement: the State House (circa 1620), the 18th-Century Church of St. Peter’s and the Confederate Museum are all within a stone’s throw.

As you might imagine, the after-hours club scene is mainly subdued and civilized. You can dance in a huge underground cave beneath impressive stalactites at Prospero’s Cave at Blue Hole Hill; settle in at The Club, a plush red velvet room in Hamilton popular with older professionals, or check out local steel bands and calypso singers at various pubs and bars around the island.

Trendoids should know that the place to be after the discos close at 3 a.m. is The Ice Queen, on Middle Road in Paget. With the best burgers on Bermuda ($2.50) and a lively crowd arriving on mopeds and scooters, it’s like an old-fashioned drive-in. Everyone lines up at the take-out window, and the party revs up in the parking lot, going strong until dawn.

Bermudans in general seem so very, very happy, so ordered in their habits, that it is easy to underestimate their nearly-perfect system; one suspects a worm at the core of this tropical fruit. But in reality their only problems seem to stem from an abundance of advantages, setting them far above most islands and luring such an influx of visitors that cruise ships are now restricted to two per week.

Local public-service commercials on TV when I was there urged “moderation” to the populace: One spot featured a young woman torn between two blouses she wanted to purchase at a boutique. The salesgirl tempts her to buy both, but she sensibly replies, “No, I only need one.” Then the giant “M” word fills the screen, and a Moses-like voice reminds everyone of the dangers of greed.

The frankly Orwellian overtone is serious: These islanders are prosperous, but the social order must be kept. It’s considered gauche to be too flashy or arrogant: Leave the flaunting to the tourists. The sight of middle-aged Americans plunking down thousands of dollars at department stores such as Archie Brown & Son, on Front Street in Hamilton, for items like cashmere shawls and Irish sweaters is still fresh in my memory. The locals are seldom so extravagant.

Moving about the landscape without your own auto means frequent contact with Bermudans, and they, above all, make Bermuda what it is today. Even the staggering sight of azure sea and robin’s egg blue sky cannot compete with the characters abiding here.

When not scootering around or hiring an authentic London cab for a tour, hop on one of the pink buses that continually service the island. You’ll learn more about the locals than any guidebook will offer. I was returning to my hotel along the South Shore late one day; our bus driver made her usual stops at the popular beaches, picking up sunbathing tourists and locals who worked at the nearby hotels. But when one obvious off-islander attempted to board in his bathing trunks, he learned Lesson No. 1 about riding the coaches of Bermuda: Don’t mess with the conductress.

Eyeing him with obvious contempt, she put her foot down: “I’m very sorry sir,” she said firmly, “but I’m afraid I can’t allow you to ride. Your shorts look a little damp to me.” The stunned fellow looked from her stern face down to his wrinkled trunks, mumbled something about waiting until he dried and stumbled off. The driver triumphantly shut the door, and we were off to the next confrontation.

Lesson No. 2 about the buses: Exact change is necessary. Yes, Bermuda bus drivers can be rude. But if you know your place and don’t ask any questions, they’ll refrain from throwing you off. A still tongue makes a happy life, and the atmosphere on one of these rides can be as peaceful and silent as a public library.

My guide for a scuba dive to the underwater shipwreck The Constellation (which was used in the film of Peter Benchley’s “The Deep”) was a young Bavarian named Uwe Lipfert, who’d moved to Bermuda three years before.

“I worked in the crazy hotel business in Bavaria before,” he said. “I haven’t regretted moving here once. This island has one of the highest standards of living in the world,” he explained. “I tried going back to Bavaria--I lasted just two weeks. I feel Bermuda was my destiny.”

And at the end of nearly every long, bright day, when a Technicolor sunset gives way to an equally bright night of stars, it’s quite easy to lapse into words such as destiny --to see images of heaven in the Milky Way, to hang limp in a swaying hammock on an oasis adrift in an ocean hiding more than 300 shipwrecks of other dreamers. No matter that most Bermuda onions now come from Texas; who cares if you lose your footing on the Railway Trail, or never taste a guinea-chick? Or that “afternoon tea” usually turned out to be a lukewarm cup from a giant urn in the hotel lobby and a few cookies?

There’s the lovely incongruity of Scottish pipers, kilted and proud, playing loudly on the lawn of Fort Hamilton, or a pyramid-roofed purple cottage next to one of lime green, then pink, then turquoise, with Bermuda “Moongates” (carved wooden arbors with crescent moons stenciled in their tops) at the end of each walk, signifying eternal love. And there’s the local affection for historical oddities, like the Gombey Dancers who surface for major holiday celebrations like spirits rising from the dead. Pronounced “gum-bay,” they gyrate in ritualistic fashion, bedecked in feathered masks and headdresses. Enthusiastic crowds often join the dance, which dates back to 1750, when African slaves kept by the English landowners celebrated Christmas by banging out rhythms on drums and raising voices in song.

But some travelers have an inflexible idea of what an island is, and with Bermuda, one man’s paradise may be another man’s purgatory. If you want to escape from civilization as we know it, this is not the ideal destination for you, unless designer boutiques and jewelry stores are part of your personal Garden of Eden.

Out on Harrington Sound Road, there is an ancient tourist attraction called Devil’s Hole Aquarium, begun by a certain Mr. Trott in 1830. It all started when he built a wall around his fish pond to keep others from fishing it. Locals, however, bombarded Trott with questions about what he was hiding. In 1843, bowing to their curiosity, he permitted folks to view his pond--for a fee.

The deep pool now holds about 400 sea creatures, including giant grouper, eight-foot sharks and green turtles. Paying visitors can pretend they are really fishing: The lines they are given are baited--but without hooks.

I wouldn’t want to touch that analogy for all the Bermuda onions in Texas.

GUIDEBOOK

Beached in Bermuda

Getting there: There are no direct flights from the West Coast, but Delta, USAir, American and Continental make the 10-hour trip from Los Angeles, with connections in Atlanta, Boston, New York and several other Eastern cities. Round-trip air fares begin at $544 for an advance-purchase, mid-week flight. No passport or visa is required for U.S. citizens, but proper identification is.

Getting around: For moped, scooter and cycle rentals, there are dozens of outlets across the island. One is Ray’s Cycles, telephone (809) 234-0629, rentals approximately $23-$36 per day.

The Central Bus Terminal can provide schedules for pink buses serving the island, (809) 292-3851. Exact change is necessary when boarding. Bus stops are usually marked either by a pink bus shelter or striped poles of green and white, or black and white.

The ferry from Hamilton across to Paget Parish is the perfect vantage point for viewing private waterfront estates, yachts and Hamilton itself; cruises are $1 each way; you can ride all the way to the Naval Dockyard for $2.

Where to stay:

The Southampton Princess: Major resort complex on the South Shore with private beach, tennis, golf, six restaurants, four bars; (809) 238-8000 or (800) 223-1818; rates in season, $152-$238 per person, including breakfast and dinner.

The Hamilton Princess: Major resort facilities in town on Hamilton Harbour including nearby golf, tennis, beach, three restaurants; (809) 295-3000 or (800) 223-1818; $85-$112 per person, no meals included.

Sonesta Beach Resort & Spa: Major hotel on the South Shore that may be the best resort for families, with three private beaches and European health spa, tennis, golf, several restaurants; extensive family plans include free lodging for kids under 16 in parents’ room; (809) 238-8122 or (800) 766-3782; $95-$170 per person, no meals.

Horizons & Cottages: In Paget, the most stylish of the cottage colonies, with antiques in rooms, tennis, golf, use of Coral Beach Club facilities; (809) 236-2233 or (800) 468-0022 for Horizons; $110-$168 per person, including breakfast.

Lantana Colony Club: In Sandys Parish, 20 acres of gardens, small beach, tennis, croquet, excellent restaurant; (809) 234-0141 or (800) 468-3733; $132-$182 per person, breakfast and dinner.

Where to eat: Reservations, jacket and tie are almost always necessary; check when booking to see if credit cards are accepted.

Dennis’s Hideaway: Located in St. David’s, you don’t even need shoes here. Dennis usually cooks up whatever suits his fancy; cheap: around $10 per person; (809) 297-0044.

Tom Moore’s Tavern: On Bailey’s Bay in Hamilton Parish (not to be confused with the city of Hamilton), reservations and jackets required; expensive: $50 per person without drinks; (809) 293-8020.

Fourways Inn: 1 Middle Road, Paget Parish, jacket and tie required; expensive: $55 per person without drinks; (809) 236-6517.

The Hog Penny: In central Hamilton on Burnaby Hill, pub atmosphere and menu, live evening entertainment, casual attire; moderate: $15-$20 per person without drinks; (809) 292-2534.

The Lobster Pit: In central Hamilton on Bermudiana Road, casual attire, reservations recommended; moderate: $25-$35 per person without drinks; (809) 292-6898.

The Pub on the Square: On King’s Square in St. George’s, traditional pub menu, casual attire; cheap: $8-$10 per person without drinks; (809) 297-1522. For more information: Contact Tetley/Moyer & Associates, 3075 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 601, Los Angeles 90010; (310) 388-1151, fax (310) 487-5467. Or the Bermuda Department of Tourism, 310 Madison Ave., Suite 201, New York 10017, (800) 223-6106, for the free booklets “Where to Stay” and “What to Do,” which lists activities and special events for the year.