Our resort’s beach is protected by a reef, and I rather wish that it weren’t: my favorite part about going to the beach is bobbing in the waves. We don’t have any, because the reef catches them.
This place says it’s green, or eco-friendly, or whatever. But the cache of plastic stuff caught in washed-up sea grass was there yesterday, same as today. And I bet I’ll see it again tomorrow.
Turns out, I can sit crosslegged in a hammock!
No loud beach-side music here. Right now, this is what I can hear:
– The roar of the surf on the far side of the reef
– The cables hitting the mast of a nearby catamaran
– Wind moving through the thatched roof over the hammock
– A few air cylinders clanging together over at the dive boat dock
– My hiccups (if you really want to know)
I snorkeled yesterday for a long time. A long time for me, anyway. Saw a nurse shark, which was just a little bit creepy, even I though I think it’s a vegetarian. But wait…if it’s a vegetarian, why does it hang around the dock to eat when the fishing boat comes in and the fish guts are thrown into the water? I must have misunderstood something sort of critical here.
Corn porridge with coconut milk was on the breakfast menu. It tastes like coconut-flavored cream of wheat.
The beach-side palms have coconuts on them. This morning, a split piece of a coconut was floating in the water.
We walked to Little Cayman airport yesterday afternoon; it took less than 15 minutes (which included a stop to look inside the church). So now we’ve seen, I am pretty sure, all the development on the island.
The beach next to the airport was rocky and had even more washed-ashore plastic. Maybe that’s what they mean by “green” at the resort: the beach isn’t as dirty as it might be.
I would not argue if this place offered free booze.
But since they don’t, here’s a note to anyone planning on coming here: buy a bottle of rum and some cokes at the Little Cayman store. Swipe limes and ice from the resort dining room. You’re welcome.
As long as you can have these two things – shade and a breeze – it is very comfortable here.
I wish my hair were this curly at home.
No sunburn yet.
At the cottages by the airport, the ground was covered with hermit crabs. The biggest crabs were a bit larger than a golf ball. It sort of looked as if the ground were undulating.
Our room is on the end of the building (the end cap, if you will) so we can see the ocean from our room.
Another note to anyone planning on coming here: if you bring your own wide-mouth water bottle you can keep it filled with water and ice. There is a big ice machine in the sunroom. You’re welcome again, although this note is not nearly as fun-provoking as the bring-your-own-rum tip is.
Iguanas have the right of way here.
I’ve only seen one iguana.
Maybe after a week, the food will get predictable or boring, but so far it’s good.
– Lunch, day one: soup, salad (green), salad (potato), salad (something), sandwich board, boiled sausages, some other kind of meat, hamburgers, dessert. (Soup. Soup? I must find out why they failed to follow the Soup Rules, which clearly spell out soup season as being the time between when the migratory geese arrive and when the same geese leave. Also, must recommend counseling to people who are not following the Soup Rules.)
– Dinner, day one: soup, salad (green), salad (pasta), salad (couscous), mac and cheese, BBQ chicken, BBQ ribs, beans, cornbread, beef (thin slices, very rare), dessert.
-Breakfast, day two: corn porridge, fruit, bacon, eggs, potatoes, made-to-order omelets, breads, fruits. (OK, Mister Smarty Pants. Hot breakfast cereal is, and always has been, exempt from the Soup Rules. Cereal ≠ soup.)
-Lunch, day two: salad (green), salad (apples, pears, pecans, blueberries, with a yogurty dressing), salad (mussels), sandwich board, lasagna, chicken and broccoli, rice, dessert
There were approximately a gazillion mosquitoes at dusk yesterday. Even copious amounts of insect repellent didn’t faze them.
The dive boat is returning: today’s solitude is about over.
We stayed in a Comfort Suites in Grand Cayman on the way down. It could have been in Missoula, for as much the same as very other Comfort Suites that it was.
The dinner in Grand Cayman was very expensive. But it made up for it by not really being all that great.
Wait, what’s this? The people at the next hammock have a little table to hold their drinks. Where did they get that? And, if I get out here early enough tomorrow, can I “procure” it for my own hammock?
I have not been sitting crosslegged in the hammock since about three minutes after I wrote that I was. Turns out it didn’t really work out that well.
Speedo-man: don’t. Seriously.
The swimming pool felt really good.
The shallowest water in the ocean is nearly too warm to swim in. It must be 90°.
The rest of the water – except in the shadow of the dock or when you get one of those bands of unexplained cooler water – is probably around 80°. So it’s a bit like swimming in a bathtub. A bathtub full of salty water. And sharks.
The little church had a black box on the altar; it looked like they were set up for conference calls. It was called a “digital hymnal” – God’s karaoke, perhaps? I wish I’d played with it. I think you punch in a number to correspond to songs in the hymnal and you get a pipe organ and maybe a soprano.
I can tell by the way the woman in room 116 shuts the door that her little daughter is still napping.
Car horns are honking – must mean someone’s won the World Cup.
The man at the liquor store/car rental agency told us yesterday that he would be closed today while the World Cup final was on. He’s rooting for Spain (I asked) because he “has a Latin girlfriend.” Otherwise, I guess he’d be for the Netherlands.
This close to the equator the days are almost exactly 12 hours long. It seems odd, somehow, for it to get dark so early in the summer.
I only had two naps today, but was able to have one in the morning and one in the evening. Careful scheduling is the key.
I should go in and take a shower: the last one I took was Friday night (today is Sunday) in Grand Cayman. But I don’t want to go inside.
Or rather, I didn’t want to go inside. But I am in the process of changing my mind. A woman just claimed the other hammock in my hut. Two seconds later, she’s yelling, “George! GEORGE!! Over here! HERE! FURTHER RIGHT!!!” And then here comes George, carrying their beers, and here’s what he had to say:
– It’s the same everywhere.
– People putting their towels down to reserve it then walking away.
– Same shit everywhere you go.
– People are pigs.
– If you leave, you should have to give up your spot.
If he looked over my shoulder, he could read this.
I may leave my things here the whole damn week, just to piss off old George.
I am headed to the room. Leaving my things, too. Take that, George.