One day in Cayman

Hopped off the jet with my carryon suitcase and oversized duffle, the kind way too big to fit under the seat but the flight attendants don’t bother. It spills over my suitcase, the cheap 4 spinner wheels barely keep up with the pavement, and my hand grips the handle for dear life so it doesn't embarrass me by toppling over at customs. I wait for the big Caribbean man with kind eyes and a deep voice to stamp my passport. 

“Welcome to Cayman pretty gyal,” 

I look out the sliding glass doors to see unsuspecting creatures have triggered the motion sensor- chickens. One mother hen and two little chicklets ‘bok-ing’ around looking for crumbs. I soon learned this is normal scenery on Grand Cayman. 

The driver took us to the beach front Marriott resort, his charming voice recommended Peppers, right across the street and the best local food around. Next, the front desk receptionist gave us the obligatory recommendation for the hotel restaurant and then encouraged us to go to Peppers. 

First, we had to check out the beach. I went to my room immediately to undress, greeted by a garden view balcony and tropical blue walls, I was ecstatic. I threw on my deep blue bikini and ran for the beach. The resort was on the water so I didn’t have to go far, just take the elevator down from the fifth floor, walk through said garden viewed from above, walk past the water sports rental and the outdoor dining. 

Then there it was, the heavenly turquoise water was gently lapping the fine white sand beach. We claimed beach chairs and spoke no words. I just wanted to hear the serenity of the sun and the water on my skin after an intense day. Overhead, the clouds were billowing and some dark spots were forming, but nothing less than a hurricane would have taken me from the beach. 

Tired of worrying about my hair being neat and perfect, I released my blowout from the shackles of the ponytail and floated peacefully, ears underwater. Eventually, it was time for a pina colada, or four. It has never tasted better, that concoction of pineapple and coconut cream and fuzzy dark rum. Never better than on its native beach. I laid sipping in the sun until it was time for dinner. 

Peppers was the obvious choice. We sauntered across the street, cars zooming by from the right hand side. On British territory, we had to be mindful of the driving on the other side of the street. Peppers was a casual place, open air patio with french creole servers and thick caribbean accents. The clientele were all old white people hiding their tax dollars in the islands. When I ordered the mahi mahi, with coconut cream sauce, local sweet potatoes and plantains, I knew why they were all here. Everything was rich and sweet, just like the atmosphere of everything else on this island. The people included in that description. Not rich financially, but vibrantly rich with persona. Friendly, engaging and honest. 

I finished my dark n stormy, a rum drink with lemonade. Rum is a common theme on this trip. 

Then, we headed back to the hotel to have another rum drink and stargaze on the beach. The water was less gentle at this time of night, breaching the sand more aggressively now, but the sound was more like a lullaby as we looked up, so far from most light pollution, it was vividly twinkly. Even though dusk had long passed, the blue hue seemed to glow at the shoreline. Once the nightcap was finished, I slept better than I had in a long time, caressed by my stark white sheets in my crisp bedding, knowing those waters were waiting for me in the morning.

Like a child going to Disneyland, I awoke naturally from adrenaline and walked down to the beach at 8 am. I rarely voluntarily rise at that hour. I originally had just planned for a walk, but when I went down I saw that calm water with the sun beaming down providing an early morning sweat, I immediately went to put my bikini on. The water was even better this morning. Under the bright sun, the colors were more vivid, the tiny fish crossing between my legs were even more visible. The beach is called 7-mile beach which extends, obviously, seven miles and is the most pristine on the small island.

I claimed a spot on the lounge chair and layed, getting a slight tan at that hour and teased by the fact that I had to leave in a few hours. I watched children start running out, with their floaties, and sand castle building kits. I envied their zest and freedom, forcing myself into gratitude despite the jealousy they no doubt will be here for a week.

Afterall, most people may never get to see the Carribean, how lucky am I to see her for 24 hours. 

My queen, Lucy, at the airport, sent me home with a rum cake and strict instructions to slather it in dark rum only and reheat in the microwave for 10 seconds. That and the unbreakable promise to return and live with her on a boat when she retires soon. I’ll be back for her and that “Caymankind” soon.