Happy Caymanniversary!

Today is my Caymanniversary! It is one year to the day since I landed in the Cayman Islands on 27 May 2016. 

My favourite spot on island - Smiths

Taking a break from paddle boarding

My morning commute

Gal pals at brunch

Aside from working in a job that I LOVE and that affords me both exciting and interesting work AND a good work/life balance, in the past 12 months I have been lucky enough to:

(a)   spend inordinate amounts of time on Seven Mile Beach, one of the most beautiful beaches in the world;

(b)   frequently swim with tropical fish, turtles and stingrays;

(c)   sail the high seas (aka, 200 metres from shore) on numerous occasions like a pirate aboard the Jolly Roger;

(d)   on average, go on at least one boat party a month for someone’s birthday/arrival/departure/because we feel like it;

(e)   make countless new friends (some of whom even work outside of the accounting and legal fields!);

(f)    play huge amounts of sport – netball, touch football, tennis, Gaelic football, beach volleyball;

(g)   visit Cuba, the Bahamas and the USA (and Hong Kong, Singapore and Sydney); and

(h)   parade down the street in feathers for carnival and a pirate outfit for Pirate's week.

Doing justice

Cuba

My fab Gaelic team

Boat trip to Kaibo 

In the interests of full disclosure and providing a balanced picture of life on the Rock, I have also:

(a)   failed (well, not really tried that hard) to remedy the tragic state of my love life (small pond, few fish);

(b)   been mauled by mosquitos more often that I care to remember;

(c)   sweated excessively in extreme heat and humidity (not in a light, glowing way, more in a drippy and awkward way);

(d)   consumed more cocktails than my hips and liver would like;

(e) dodged wild chickens, iguanas and crabs on a regular basis;

(f)   had heart palpitations when I’ve seen my grocery bill at Kirk’s or my monthly electricity bill (US$200 to $400 per month). 

Drink receptacle Cayman style

A day in hell

Standard breakfast views

Wild chickens to avoid at supermarket

Obviously packing up my life and moving by myself to a place I had never seen in person and where I didn't know anybody was a big, scary decision. But it was nowhere near as scary as the idea of where I would be now if I hadn’t taken the leap and I'm so glad that I did. It is definitely hard to live so far away from my family, on a remote little island in the Caribbean, but 365 days in to Cayman life, I figure it's not a bad place to spend a few years :) 

Cheers to Island life!

Cayman CARNIVAL!

One of the things I have been looking forward to most since I arrived on Island is CARNIVAL! I missed it by just two weeks last year so have had to wait for eleven and a half months to find out what all the fuss is about. And it was SO worth it.

If I had to describe Cayman carnival in one sentence it would be: a culturally sanctioned glittery and feathered street party slash orgy that has more in common with Mardi Gras than the Christian organisers would like to admit (fewer gays, same amount of glitter). 

History of Carnival 

Carnival season is big across the whole Caribbean and apparently began as a pre-Lenten tradition (the word "carnival" is thought to mean farewell to meat – thank God that tradition died, no jerk chicken or Burger Shack for 40 days?!?) brought over by European settlers and their accompanying slaves in the 1700s. The first carnival was apparently in Trinidad and Tobago and by all accounts, their carnival remains the biggest and best (something else to add to the every-growing to do list). 

The Cayman Islands carnival is positively youthful by comparison to some as it is only 34 years old (full disclosure - I have a vested interest in maintaining that early 30s is youthful), compared to, say, the Bahamian carnival which kicked off some time in the 1800s. Each country’s carnival has its own twist based on the local culture, such as salsa dancing in Antigua, calypso in Dominica and soca in Cayman. The Cayman carnival is traditionally called “Batabano” which refers to the tracks left in the sand by sea turtles when they crawl onto the beach to nest. While there may be deep cultural reasons for this comparison, I'm pretty sure it's because you feel like a beached turtle by the end of the day and leave a trail of feathers and glitter in your wake. 

The Parade
Several months ago, when I was thousands of miles away in Hong Kong and had plenty of time in which I was positive I could procure myself a runway model-esqe body, I agreed to participate in CayMAS and spent an unexpectedly large amount of money on a VERY small bejewelled bikini and inordinate quantum of feathers. 

"Oh crap, now I have to go outside dressed like this"

Fast forward several months to mid-May and I was staring down the barrel of CayMAS, having forgotten to give up carbs several months before, with only time left to fit in one salad and one hot yoga class in the hopes of sweating off 10kg in one hit, plus a last minute spray tan to camouflage everything else. Before I knew it, I found myself wearing my teeny weeny bejewelled bikini, more feathers than a wild Caymanian chicken and a ridiculous amount of glitter last Saturday morning, surrounded by several hundred of my closest scantily clad friends.  

From midday we started to gather in town, meeting our fellow paraders. I feel like you make a special bond with people you meet for the first time in your underwear. Needless to say I have many new, very close, friends. Once the parade started, it wound its way up West Bay road to finish at Public Beach, which is at the northern end of Seven Mile Beach and was the location for the evening after party on the beach. We literally walked (and danced / skipped / gyrated / grinded / sweated) 5 to 6 miles over the course of about 6 hours. I used ab and quad muscles to dance that I don’t think I’ve ever activated before and that reminded me of that fact for days later. In true Caymanian fashion, I also ran into many people I knew along the side of the road such that there can honestly be no more secrets between us. They have seen ALL of me.

Practicing our moves beforehand - I realise I look like I'm about to lay an egg
so for the sake of spectators, I promise I kept grinding moves to a minimum

Each “band” has its own truck with a bar on board and we all got water bottles for drink refills along the way. Procuring a drink in the course of the parade turned out to be the hardest part of the entire experience (though not without its reward). As the truck ranged from being stationery, to stop-starting, to swiftly moving along, once you pushed your way through the line of people to grab on to the bars on the side of the truck, you had to keep pace with it and hand up your bottle to the guys on board without (a) stepping on the heels of the people in front of you, (b) being trampled by the people behind you, and (c) without dropping the water bottle to be run over by the ever-advancing wheels of the truck (I managed two out of three and ended up going through two water bottles). If, however, you were able to master this daring feat of athleticism and grace, you were rewarded with the strongest drink you’ve ever had in your life, containing free poured rum (someone counted and the pours lasted up to 12 seconds) and mixer. Welcome to partying, Caribbean style. 

Drama at the Carnival

This year was the first year that Cayman carnival split over two weekends. The traditional Batabano remained on the first weekend in May, while a new carnival took place a week later - CayMAS. Alas this is not because they wanted to extend the party, but rather because there was a dramatic and acrimonious split between the organisers (if you think politics is divisive where you live, you haven’t seen Cayman politics - it's ridic). 

While the traditional contingent wanted to keep the carnival as it was, the more “progressive” groups wanted to move Batabano to the second weekend in May as (a) it would no longer clash with the Bahamian carnival and could therefore draw more tourism (b) the second weekend is a long weekend so allows for more events and higher turnout and (c) something else about modernising that I forget now and didn’t care that much about at the time anyway. The result was that of the 10 or so “bands” (i.e. floats) that usually participate in Batabano, 4 or 5 of them broke off and started CayMAS. Drama, drama, drama. There was even a lone woman on the side of the road holding a sign saying "One Cayman, One Batabano". 

 

I chose to participate in CayMAS over Batabano for complex cultural reasons because my friend told me to. But HER reasoning was that the biggest and best “band” to jump with, called Swanky International, had defected to CayMAS. I'm all about being surrounded by a big crowd when I'm in my underwear....

Carnival Reflections
One of the best things about carnival is the number and variety of people participating - literally all shapes, sizes and colours. A lot of people commented to me (including the logical, left side of my own brain) before the event that I was crazy to voluntarily waltz down the street in a string bikini. I entirely agree of course, but that didn’t stop me doing it! I could always have waited until I have the perfect body – until I’m skinny enough, toned enough, tanned enough, but let's be honest, I would be wasting years of my life on the sidelines waiting to reach a goal that will likely always be just beyond my fingertips. So I went ahead and did it with the body I've got anyway and goddamn it was fun :) 

The Dark (i.e. stinging) Side of the Cayman Islands

Well folks I have finally encountered the dark side of the Caribbean isle I now call home. It turns out it’s not all pina coladas, sunshine, white sand and crystal blue water (to be fair, it’s still mostly that).  

I was naively oblivious to the evil lurking beneath the calm waters of the island until recently, when I was surprised, nay ravaged, by the linuche unguiculata aka Thimble Jellyfish larvae. Locally known (rather unimaginatively) as “sea itch”.

A thimble jellyfish, unlike a teacup
pig eating ice cream,  is not cute

Now, adding “thimble” to the start of the Jellyfish name I suspect was a devious attempt to make these little buggers sound cute – much like “teacup” pigs - but do not be fooled – these invisible little bastards are far from it. As it turns out, the larvae contain the same nematocysts (stinging cells) as their jellyfish parents, which they fire off when they come into contact with things, namely me.


These teeny tiny weapons of evil float around the Caribbean sea in clouds or “blooms” (again, just because you name it after a flower, doesn't make it pleasant) and are most prevalent along Caribbean coastlines in April and May. Apparently a Bahamian old wives tale warns against ocean swimming between Mothers Day and Fathers Day. Would have been nice information to have before I went swimming in the Caribbean in late April! 

Seaweed in Grand Cayman?! I should have known
there was evil afoot.....

It seems they are also commonly found around seaweed. And so it was that one Sunday afternoon I headed to the beach for a sunset swim with friends. We marvelled at the seaweed on the sand (noting that I don't think I’ve ever seen seaweed in the water in Cayman before – normally it’s pure white sand and crystal clear water for days - yes, feel free to hate me - you'll enjoy the karmic justice of this story if you keep reading) not knowing the evil that it concealed beneath the surface. 

After the first swim, I felt an itching and mildly stinging sensation around my bikini top. No worries, I thought, I’ll go back in and rinse off whatever it is. This was my first mistake. It turns out, the larvae get stuck in between swimmers and skin and when that happens, they fire off stingers. As you can't see them, the first warning you get is the initial mild itchiness. The best course of action at this time is leaving the water. Not, as it turns out, going back in for round two. 

Do you know what makes it worse? Rubbing the material. Know what I did? Rubbed the material. Do you knoww what also makes it worse and sets off more stingers? Rinsing in fresh water. Guess what I did immediately after the swim? Went home and jumped in the shower. And so it was that I spent a week covered in stinging, itchy red welts. You could literally make out the line of my bikini top by the red markings and my skin resembled the surface of planet Mars - red, hot and inhospitable to man. 

While this photo is taken from the
internet, my suffering is not dissimilar

And just when you think I'm at the end of my sorry tale, let me impart one additional pearl of wisdom to my Caribbean-based friends: If you do have the misfortune to get stung, I would HIGHLY recommend that you wash your swimmers in boiling water, set fire to them or throw them into the fiery pit of a live volcano in order to kill the stingers before you put them back on again. Should you fail to take this basic but necessary precautionary step, you may well find that when you put the swimmers back on and go back in the water a week later.....the bastards have survived and it happens all over again. 

Caribbean swimmers beware....