Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

The ship arrived at Georgetown on Grand Cayman early Thursday morning. There are no docks sufficient for ships our size, so tenders run a continual circuit shuttling people back and forth. As our first excursion was scheduled to start immediately after arrival, we got priority seating on the very first tender and made our way to shore.

The Cayman Islands are on one of many places hit by Hurricane Ivan back in September 2004 and they are still recovering. Grand Cayman is pretty much flat (one of our excursions took us out on a boat into the ocean on the east side of the island, and we could see over the island to our cruise ship on the west side) so it was totally devastated. Even now, only the tourist areas are returning to normal, and lots of buildings and resorts still don't even have roofs.

The re-built Georgetown was lovely, and we wish we could have spent more time there. Our shore excursions were scheduled close together, leaving us little time for poking around.

Our first excursion was the Reef & Wreck Snorkel tour. We boarded a boat and were taken to an area just off Georgetown where a 375-foot freighter called the Balboa sank in 1932. It lies in several huge pieces on the bottom of the bay (it was declared a menace to navigation and dynamited in the 50s).

Unlike the mass herd motion of our last snorkel trip (I still hear "KENNY! KENNY!" in my nightmares), this outing was a free swim. The dive guide explained the dimensions of the wreckage and how far we were allowed to go, and then let us free.

Ah, bliss.

Had a lot less trouble with my mask that time as well, so we could really enjoy it. Lisa and I just swam slowly along, hand in hand, back and forth over the massive wreckage. There was also a lovely reef near at hand, filled with fish (some frighteningly large in size) and other local life.

Unfortunately, this was the day we forgot our waterproof camera back on the ship and since it would take a good half an hour on tenders to the boat and back to fetch it (plus waiting time on either end) we just couldn't make it in time. Sigh. The photo to the right is one I've 'appropriated' from a Cayman Islands tourism site.

We returned to the boat and were shipped back to shore. We wandered a bit, looking for some breakfast and hopefully a place to buy a waterproof camera. No dice on the camera, and we resisted sampling the local turtle cuisine only by not having any cash and the small restaurant that was recommended to us not taking VISA.

Onwards!

Our next excursion was an island tour of some of the most popular destinations. We drove around the northern curve of Grand Cayman, surveying all the remaining hurricane damage and the new construction. We stopped at the gate of the Governor's mansion, and took a look down 7-Mile Beach from the north end.

Our first stop: the Turtle Farm!

Quick history. The native sea turtle population was nearly gone in the early 20th century, so a group of investors set up a facility to replenish the turtles. Originally a commercial venture, it proved not viable (international restrictions on exporting turtle, which had been put into place to help save them, actually worked against the turtle farm) so the government took it over and has run it as a tourist attraction and farm for local markets ever since. Since 1980 they've released over 30,000 turtles to the wild.

The farm was also nearly wiped out by the hurricane, but the breeding tanks survived and the farm is being rebuilt as a Sea World-type attraction to bring even more tourists.

Anyway. Turtle Farm is so COOL! What's left are just the big breeding tanks, where (if you are quick and no one catches you - our tour guide told us not to, then did himself and ignored everyone who followed his lead) you can reach in and touch the full grown turtles. Hundreds of them swimming around happily!

At the end of the farm are a group of five touch tanks where you can pick up and cuddle some of the young turtles (who are rotated out regularly, so they don't get over-handled). Turtles like to have their chins scratched!

Outside the farm are some shops, where you can buy cheap rum and pick up handfuls of free rum cake samples. Mmmm...rum cake....

Oh, and you can have your picture taken with a pirate statue Woo.

Next on the tour: a trip to HELL.

Hell is...hard to describe.

You pull up to a gift shop, then after finding your way around it (not an easy task) you find yourself on a wooden platform, overlooking, well, Hell. It's a limestone rock formation that has worn away in an utterly unique fashion, looking much like Renaissance pictures of the Fiery Place. Frolicking demons and flames would not be out of place.

Story has it that an early British commissioner saw the place on an island tour and exclaimed, "My God! This must be what Hell looks like!"

The funniest part is that Hell has a post office, where you can send 'Wish you were here' postcards.

Back on the bus! We then wound our way to the east side of the island where we waited over an hour to board a boat out to Stingray City!

More history: There's this one sandbar between the Cayman islands where the local fishermen went to clean their catch. Stingrays began to live in the area, feeding off the fishermen's leavings. Soon the stingrays lost all fear of man, and it became possible to enter the water and interact with them.

If we hadn't gone on the dolphin swim, Stingray City would have won the award as the Coolest Thing Ever. Dozens of mature stingrays, winding around this waist-deep sandbar in the middle of the ocean. Utterly unafraid and unthreatened by man. We didn't get many pictures (bemoaning the loss of the waterproof camera, still snug on the ship) but I can tell you that the stingray in the picture here was a full three to four feet across.

Lisa was first off the boat, narrowly avoiding landing directly on one of the big suckers. As she watched it swim off, she barely heard my call of "Lisa! Behind you!"

As she turned to look, another full grown ray pushed its way between her legs. She squealed like a little girl and I laughed. She was unhurt, just really surprised.

The next hour was filled with us swimming around the sandbar, chasing stingrays and playing with them. Our tour guide placed one in my arms and we floated in the waves together, taking curious stock of each other from extreme close range. I even kissed him on the nose.

They brought out the squid at that point and we fed the ravenous hordes. The trick is to hold the squid between your thumb and index finger with your thumb down. See, while their eyes are on top, their mouths are on the bottom, and they can't tell the difference between a held squid and an extended thumb.

Their mouths are like two belt-sanders close together, sucking in and grinding up whatever they get in their mouth. Our tour guide warned us they could strip the skin right off your thumb if you weren't careful, and none of us wanted to find out if he was exaggerating.

Honestly, I was frightened the first time. You stick your hand in the water until they get the scent and then they pretty much fumble around your arm until something gets in their mouth and they eat it. I did end up feeding three or four, once I got the knack. By the end they felt more like big dumb lumps than fearsome predators.

Such fun!

We got back on the boat in time to notice that the last tender to the ship was leaving in 15 minutes - and it was a 45 minute trip back to the tender docks. The nice thing about a ship-sponsored excursion is that they hold the ship until everyone is back. If you are off on your own shopping (or getting drunk) and miss the last tender, you're pretty much out of luck.

So they held the boats for us, and we were off.

The next day was Ocho Rios in Jamaica.

Jamaica is gorgeous, of course, but Ocho Rios itself had us seriously in fear of our lives.

The boat docked and we got a good look from the Lido Deck (and some fabulous pictures), ate a quick breakfast (Someone tell Carnival that if you put a small container of white stuff beside the pancakes, people will assume it's whipped butter - no one has sour cream with their pancakes. Blech.) before heading down to have a look around.

Okay, first thing. The pictures. I may have already mentioned that a major part of the tourism industry down there is in pictures. At Disney, they take official pictures with the mascots. You can pay to get pictures with the Budweiser Clydesdales at Sea World. The ship is filled with photographers and photo ops and every excursion comes with a photographer of their own (we're still trying to track down the lady who took digital pictures at Stingray City and order some shots from her).

And, whenever you leave the boat, the Carnival crew is there to take a shot. At Cozumel you can get a picture with a guy in a Mayan outfit. At Grand Cayman there's a pirate (with an odd felt-pen beard). In Ocho Rios you can have your picture taken with...some black guy.

Sure, he's wearing a Rasta hat and has long dreds, but he's still just a black man. I could get pictures of black folks anywhere. It just seemed odd, like they expected us to be all, "Oooh! A JAMAICAN!" Weird.

Anyway. We had an hour before our excursion, so we thought maybe we'd wander the town. There was a lovely beach to one side and Julie the Cruise Director had said Ocho Rios has the lowest crime rate in the islands.

Once through the customs gate and into the town proper, we were drawn aside by a cheerful looking fellow who directed us down this path to the beach, and asked if we were interested in taking a taxi tour. After we told him we only had an hour until our excursion and had no money, he smiled, welcomed us to his island and waved us on.

That was the first of the three things we heard over and over. People get appeared and saying, "Taxi? Tour? Taxi? Tour?"

The second came from every woman we saw, who asked Lisa, "Braid your hair?"

The final one was, "Want to get high?"

We had high hopes for the path, which paralleled the beach. But we were wrong. It was a path to some market, but the beach to our left was closed off with a iron fence with razor wire, and the resorts on our right were closed off by more fences (with guards at the gates) and barbed wire. It felt more like a prison path than some pleasant Jamaican town.

Along the path were shady looking salesmen with dark canvas tents and locals loitering and looking at us hungrily. We later found out that at least one of the people on the ship nearly got mugged in the same place. Likely we weren't targeted as we found that the words, "Sorry! We have no money!" got rid of the pesky vendors. No money, not worth robbing.

If you wanted to actually get on the beach, it cost $3.50.

We escaped to the main street as soon as the opportunity presented itself, and followed it back to the boat. I think we were just as frightened out there, as there was a uniformed and heavily armed police officer every twenty feet or so. Sure, the crime rate is low. It felt like if we stepped out of line we would be shot.

We got a huge sense of poverty in the area. Everyone was eyeing the tourists with naked hunger and some had tinges of desperation in their eyes. I nearly jumped off the curb when I saw an empty-eyed beggar standing to one side with crutches and splintered wooden pegs as feet.

It makes me wonder if all the places we visited put on such a face for the tourists. We found out that the 'recommended' market was the other way down the beach and it was all happiness and light there. We went off the beaten path and saw something we didn't expect. Is everywhere like that?

Finally we made it back for our last snorkel excursion, this one along the small barrier reef that protected Ocho Rios from the ocean proper. It was fun - not as colorful as the one in Grand Cayman, but the tour guides were fun. They get picking up local life and showing us in detail. He stuck a neat little starfish on my shoulder - one of the skinny kinds that move in a relatively quick and eerie fashion - and kept scaring these twitty American girls with things.

On the boat back, they plied us with free rum punch (Can't have just one, as 'a bird cannot fly with only one wing') and played music and danced. We had fun.

Still, the visit left a bad taste in our mouths. Not the best way to round out the trip.

We made up for it with excesses in sloth and laziness on the last sea day as the ship headed north past Cuba to Miami. We visited every bar, restaurant and lounge to take pictures, said farewell to our beloved dining staff and generally enjoyed the heck out of ourselves.

We wrapped up the evening by packing our bags and trying to get a good night's sleep. The last two nights were fairly rough and I had to take some Gravol to make it through the first night.

We learned something useful that we will remember, should we ever take a cruise again. Carnival's standard disembarking procedure is that you put your bags outside your room the night before sometime before midnight. Then in the morning, you head to a waiting area and wait for your deck to be called to disembark. No times are given, just a general instruction to 'wait there until your deck is called'. If you have an early flight you can wait in a different area, and disembark a little sooner.

But! Should you be able to haul your own luggage off the ship, you get to disembark first and be the first ones to go through customs and get to your shuttles and taxis.

Woo hoo! Nothing I like less than waiting an unknown amount of time. We went for a sit-down breakfast (our first and only fancy breakfast on the trip) where we were served by our nighttime waiter (I think he lost a bet and had to slum it in the morning), then grabbed our bags and hit the shore.

Wow, sea legs take a long time to go away. It was a full three days before the Earth stopped swaying back and forth.

We got through the lines quickly and were directed to the airport shuttle. From there it was a straight ride to the airport, where he dropped us off in extreme long walking range from the Air Canada desk. We only had to wait an hour or so for our flight.

Flight Thoughts #3: Miami to Montreal
Ah, how nice it is to hear French announcements again. Never thought I'd miss that. Now it sounds like home.

The pilot decides to skip all the crap filler programming and show a movie instead? Great! The movie they show? Coach Carter. Does not improve on second watching.

Glad I remembered the swelling effect of flying and took my watch and ring off. I think I'll take off my shoes for the flight from Montreal to Calgary.

Layover #2
What the heck do you mean our flight has been rescheduled for later? Four hours layover! Yuck!

Mmm...Montreal smoked meat. Yummy.

More games of Rock-Paper-Whatever to pass the time. God, I hate waiting.

Flight Thoughts #4: Montreal to Calgary
Movie for this leg: The Chorus. Best foreign movie ever, my ass. Perhaps there's less cheese in the original French version. Dubbing makes everything worse. Why couldn't we watch Coach Carter again? And haven't we already seen this episode of Bewitched?

Hey, why can't I get my shoes back on? Did they shrink?

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» Swimming With the Fishies: The Wedding & Honeymoon Part VI from 8-Track Mind
This is it! The grand finale! The end of the wedding & honeymoon recap, as we swim with stingrays, pet the turtles, and avoid getting jacked in Jamaica! Next week: Other crap. Enjoy!... [Read More]

Tracked on June 22, 2005 03:49 PM