but Bermuda is home to over 2,100 residents of Portuguese descent, more than 1,800 people of West Indian heritage and a sizable number -- at least 790 in 1991 -- of Asians, Germans, Latin Americans and Italians.

Unlike New York or London or Toronto, for example, there is no Little Portugal to speak of in the capital, nor is there a Jamaican, Trinidadian or Barbadian district here.

Earlier this year, a new East Indian deli did pop up on North Street, bringing a refreshing new ethnicity to Hamilton's Back of Town and the total number of Indian eateries in Bermuda to two.

But that event -- as welcome as it may have been -- hardly qualifies the area as a burgeoning Little Bombay.

Given the statistical fact that Bermuda is a multicultural society and becoming more so every year, why isn't the ethnic face of the Island, a widely perceived oasis of harmony among races, more openly displayed? "Part of it has to do with Bermuda's size,'' said Ms Ana Faria of the Portuguese Bermudian Organisation, "but a lot of it also relates to the fact that many immigrants to Bermuda are made to feel very insecure about their place here.

"For many, many years,'' she continued, "the Portuguese people who came to Bermuda felt forced to assimilate into the `white' culture, many of them changing their names to make them sound more English. In that kind of atmosphere, it was almost a sin for the Portuguese to express their identities, or openly display their culture.'' If the Portuguese, as one of the oldest ethnic groups on the Island, have been made to feel this way, the feelings of insecurity and tentativeness that are experienced by many minorities in Bermuda have been even more pronounced among those who are newer to the Island (like the Asians) or traditionally have lacked any significant economic influence (like the West Indians).

"I think,'' said Mr. Wilhelm Bourne, the president of the recently established Barbados Association, "that they (West Indians) do feel less welcome here sometimes than they might feel somewhere else, like Canada or the UK. Of course, that tends to drive them underground somewhat, making them less than full participants in overall (Bermudian) society. And that's understandable. When you're constantly talking about Bermudianisation this and expatriates that, it creates a climate.'' Often, however, the minority experience in Bermuda is based on more than just a tense or unwelcoming climate. In many instances, it is very much a reflection of some disturbingly cold -- and sometimes ugly -- realities.

According to one hospitality source, for instance, the Bermudian co-workers of a mostly Asian kitchen detail have repeatedly refused to attend the same departmental staff meetings as the Orientals because "they are not in the same league.'' Similarly, stories abound in the the hotel and restaurant industries of Bermudians who object to eating a meal with their Filipino workmates or engaging in a conversation with a Portuguese gardener or pot-washer.

"Because,'' said one Bermudian who has witnessed such scenes, "we are so isolated here and not that exposed to diverse cultures, we do tend to look at people who are different or speak a different language as second-class. Look at the way the Portuguese have been viewed, just because their English comprehension may be poor. They could very well speak four other languages for all we as Bermudians know.'' Whether or not they are multilingual, the new generation of Portuguese Bermudians have been decidely more outspoken on minority issues than their forebears were, particularly on the still unresolved and sometimes bitterly debated subject of long-term residents.

Along with the Island's English transplants, the Portuguese, many of whom are still feeling the pain of having had their loved ones deported to the Azores during the last recession, have been instrumental in putting the ambiguous status of long-term residents on the current Government agenda.

Although, as the inhabitants of a small country, Bermudians have every right to be concerned about unchecked immigration, many, including Bermudians themselves, regard the limbo that many long-term residents have been placed in by the laws in Bermuda as needlessly callous and cruel.

"The fact that we should ignore this (issue) because we didn't go independent (last summer) is utter nonsense,'' Government backbencher Dr. Clarence Terceira, himself of Portuguese descent, told the House of Assembly recently.

"It (providing status to long-term residents) is the moral thing to do.'' It is, in fact, a common topic of conversation these days that Bermuda may be tarnishing more than just its moral image through its rigid cultural attitudes.

For one thing, one school of thought has it, a visible ethnic diversity in Bermuda could only help to enhance its appeal to foreign visitors as the Island struggles to find its place in the global tourism market.

And secondly, it continues, Bermuda's long-established policy of favouring only immigrants who can contribute to the "financial prosperity'' of the Island may provide the country with plenty of millionaires, lawyers and accountants, but it also ensures that precious few of the individuals who normally make for a vibrant and interesting society get to stay here.

"With that clause,'' one English-born Bermudian said on the subject recently, "we are shutting out the most creative kinds of people from Bermuda, people like journalists, artists, schoolteachers.'' Be that as it may, there are signs, like the popular cultural festival that is held in Dockyard every year and the opening of new ethnic food shops from the West End to St. George, that Bermuda's long-worn armour of conservatism may be starting to crack.