Favourite Things

Looking back on some of our past entries, I realize that much of the time it seems we are highlighting some of the more difficult parts of living in the Caymans. Although there are some days when it gets a little difficult here, we really are enjoying ourselves. As we haven't seemed to have to attracted any visitors yet (whether that is from the scary bug entry, or the fact that we really are unpopular) I thought I would use this entry to describe some of the things we love about the island. Since I never have enough errands to put on a list, and we rarely buy enough stuff to warrant writing a list, I am going to write this in list form... because lets face it... I like to list things.

Blake's Favourite things about Cayman:

1) His newfound love for snorkelling
2) Starbucks VIA by the pool on Saturday mornings(you'll never know how much he loves you for it Dave!)
3) Wearing shorts every evening and weekend
4) Not having chapped lips
5) Being able to drink beer on the beach (who couldn't love that?)
6) A 15 min maximum commute during rush hour traffic ( how he knows this is a mystery, since he is at work before humanly recommended and leaves after 7 p.m.)
7) Meeting friends from all over the world
8) Ball hockey ( I pointed out that he could do this in Canada, but he still wanted it on the list)
9) The Brunch trend (brunch is a big thing here)

Natalie's favourite things about Cayman:

1) The radio station selection. Many play caribbean music and there is a station for everything here, if only our car would allow is to listen to them...
2) The amazing colours of the houses
3)Trees that flower all year long
4) I never get tired of looking at the thousands of colours of blue and green in the ocean.
5) The locals are the nicest drivers, they let everyone cut ahead of them. It puts us to shame
6) Iguanas! I can't get enough!
7) the gazillion flavours of cocktails. You could have a different one for every day of the year... and I might test that theory
8) "Soon Come" island time. The locals often reply " soon come" to answer when they will arrive. It could mean ten minutes, it could mean a few hours, but most often it means "don't rush me you bloody white person."
9) The fact that families hang out on their front lawns every evening with relatives and neighbours. I wish we were more neighbourly back home.
10) My decrease in aspartame consumption since literally nothing on the island is light, fat free or reduced fat.
11) The fact that everyone here dances, no matter how bad they are. The party is always on the dance floor!
12) There seems to be no rules on the island- unless you get caught
13)Relaxing. I think I am finally learning how
14) Learning about what it is to be Canadian by immersing myself in another country, and meeting great new friends from around the globe.
15) The beautiful simplicity of life. It is a return to how things should be. I call a number and I actually talk to a person. I do all of our banking at the bank without a debit card. I actually take cash to the separate agencies to pay our bills and everything is closed on Sundays. If my car broke down I have no doubt that somebody would stop to help.

Above all, the scenery here is amazing, and that goes without saying! We can't wait til you can come and see if for yourself. We might even let you share a Starbucks by the pool with us, only if you bring it though!

Mount Trashmore

I made the most remarkable discovery this past weekend, one that I stumbled upon purely by accident, but a good one never the less. Right across the traffic circle there is an aluminum can recycling bin! Small discovery, and a boring one in most people's opinion, but here in Cayman it is a HUGE breakthrough. We were disgusted, appalled and Blake was nearly ready to catch the next plane out of here when we found out that the Cayman Islands do not recycle. Blake meticulously tutored me in the art of recycling back home. He was so dedicated to sorting his papers and plastics that he had it down to a science. When he found out my apartment and the city of St. Albert didn't have door step recycling he would bring my empty blue bags from his place and take my full ones back to his house to recycle. Eventually we discovered a recycling centre down my street and Blake would spend Saturday mornings sorting my recyclables. Many times I would come out of the shower and not know where he had disappeared to, but he'd pop through the door minutes later excited that he had taken the recycling to the depot (good boy). So it was a huge shock to the system to start throwing our pop bottles, newspapers, plastic containers and cans into the garbage. We felt immoral, dirty and shamed doing it. Its amazing how you can be so trained in one way of living. What is even worse is the fact that all of this garbage, both the potentially recyclable and non-recyclables all end up in the same place: Mount Trashmore. On an island where the highest altitude is 3 metres above sea level, you can imagine what a dump might look like. It is the first landmark seen on the cruise ships, it is the highest point on the island and it is located near the most pristine white beaches in the Caribbean. Bad city planning? I think so. Apparently nobody considered the effects of hurricanes and projectile rusting metals? Driving by Mount Trashmore is also an experience in itself. For a 1.5 km stretch you can inhale all of the rotting, decomposing and festering crap that makes Mount Trashmore the phenomenon that it is. But if you don't have a chance to drive the bypass beside the dump, no worries, on a windy day (4/5 days) the hot stench is gently wafted to Seven Mile Beach, and the entire western section of the island is awash in it's fragrant perfume. Mount Trashmore is such a well known landmark that a huge condominium complex has evolved right across the road, and now there is a sea of "For Sale" signs along the bypass. After our initial viewing of the dump we inquired about the lack of recycling and were told that it is just not economically feasible on this island (say what??????). Which brings me back to my exciting discovery of an aluminum can recycling bin across the road. What a huge find, one that could be the beginning of a trend? Well, I won't hold my breath on that one... but I will hold it while I drive by Mt. Trashmore.

Pictured above : the bald glory of Mount Trashmore, a cruiser's first view of the island

Breathless

I would consider Blake and I an athletic couple, him more than I, but nevertheless we are quite active. So Thursday night hit us both like a ton of bricks. We are SO out of shape. Before moving here, both of us had completed several races, some half-marathons, I did the three day hike up Machu Picchu, and Blake played on two ice hockey teams, and this summer we both hiked 21Km up Mt Robson and back, never thinking twice about our athleticism. A few weeks back we were asked to run in an Inter-Island Relay, each person covering 6.5km. We both finished our legs, but I had bad knee pain, and Blake was so tired that he had had to walk some of it. We made ourselves believe that it was just the heat and we really weren't in that bad of shape-the typical mantra of those who know they have a problem but can't face it. At the beginning of February Blake got me a gym membership, so I have been going regularly, doing weights and using the cardio equipment. I've done plenty of 3 mile beach walks with the girls, and Blake has had some great tennis games,and were under the impression that snorkelling was a great form of exercise, leading us both to believe that we were doing fine. Ha! On Thursday night I headed to the gym for my first group fitness aerobics class. I donned my pink cotton Body By Bennet shirt, smugly knowing that cotton was a good choice, since it was going to be a nice easy workout, after all, I was probably in better shape than at least half of the people there. Big Mistake. The billowy cotton only accentuated my clumsy movements and was soaked within the first 10 minutes, which, by the way, felt more like 40. Known sarcastically as "Grace" by my parents, and being referred to as "a bull in a china shop" on numerous occasions, I should have know that aerobics was not a good choice. I can only be thankful that there were only 8 of us in the class (oddly enough I was the one in the worst shape...) and that perhaps nobody noticed when I fell off my step three times, put my hands up when everyone else's were down, and had to stop and figure out the steps every two minutes. By the end, the lovely pink T-shirt was thoroughly wet, my face the shade of a sunburnt tourist and my whole body sore from being jerked in so many directions simultaneously. It wasn't much better for Blake either. Being Canadian, his radar let him to the only ball hockey league in the country, and he was asked to come play for a team on Thursday night. He excitedly left in the evening to meet the team at the nearby gym. At 10:20 pm he arrived home, T-shirt looking like it had just come out of the wash-soaked through the entire way with shorts and socks in the same condition. First words out of his mouth "I am so out of shape." In the end though, Blake did fare better than I. He scored 2 goals, had 2 assists and was a hit with the team, joining it for the rest of the season. We have learned our lesson though, just because we sweat 24/7 here, that does not make walking to the pool and taking out the garbage, a workout. We've both agreed to get more active, but this is all the more incentive for Joel to come and visit us so he can whip our wimpy not-so-white butts into shape!

Pictures: Proof of more active days. 1)At the summit of Machu Picchuing 2) Me prepping for half marathon 3) Blake after the Victoria Royal Half Marathon 4) Hiking Mt .Robson last summer

The Irony of Banking

I have no idea how much money we have. I never know how much money we have. Back home I was the budget queen. I knew exactly how much money I had at any given time. I have always been a saver and have made (in my humble opinion) some good financial decisions over the past 10 years which have led me to $0 of debt and A+ credit rating. All that has changed. Thanks to the archaic state of banking here, I am utterly confused. We could be in debt right now, or we could have ample cash hanging about, but I will never know because my bank is out to get me. Blake earns his money in US dollars, but you can't use US dollars for everyday shopping, so once his paycheque has been put into the US account we have, I have to go in to the branch and ask them to transfer it into our Caymanian account. That is where the trouble arises, you see, nothing is simple here. We receive a specialty exchange rate, but only if I remember to ask for it, and only if I go in person. Then we have a stupid clause that states that both of our accounts must be over $300 CI or we get charged (the problem is converting that amount into US so we can ensure we have the proper amount in the US fund, since it must be above 300CI, not US). Then, if we use our debit ( or rather Blake's debit, since mine mysteriously disappeared in the mail), we get charged for each transaction, plus we don't get the preferred exchange rate, same for VISA. FInally, Our bank makes it virtually impossible to track our money. They boast about this "new online banking site" they have, but from the general consensus of islanders, it was made by a school child. Your transactions show up days late, if at all, and generally you will find some odd charges not belonging to you, in hopes that you will just pay it off and relieve some poor local of their Christmas debts. Recently they have amped up their security in response to two armed robberies in January. So everytime I go into the branch, there are two huge men in uniform guarding the door. Generally this would make me feel safe, but not when I go to the counter, two cheques in hand, one with my name, the other in my maiden name and the clerk cashes them both, no questions asked, even after I mention that my "current" last name is not on the second cheque ( if you ever find cheques for a Natalie or Blake, send them our way, doesn't matter what their last name is, we can cash them!). I guess this shouldn't surprise me, since I was able to activate Blake's credit card in his name over the phone with a local banker. We finally thought all of our problems were over when we discovered the Royal Bank of Canada had a location in Georgetown. In our enthusiasm we dreamed about limitless debit cards and a joint account, but were immediately shot down when they informed us there wasn't an actual link between Canada's RBC and the Caymanian RBC? What?

So I remain, on an island internationally renowned for its offshore accounts and world banking, completely unaware of our cashflow, praying each time that there will be money in our account when I go to the teller. Thankfully I haven't been let down yet. On days when I feel we might be scraping the bottom, I am pleasantly surprised to leave with bills in my hand. Oh, it has occurred to me that, with all of their mistakes, it might not be our money., but either way it works for me!

Ants and beetles and roaches, oh my!

I can say with certainty that there is one thing I greatly miss about Canada, and that is the lack of creepy insects and odd animals. I like to look at the cute deer and grazing goats as we pass through Jasper Park. I don't mind the mosquitos and bees in the summer. I enjoyed living in an apartment that was insect free (except for the infestation of carpet beetles, but that was NOT my fault!). It is another story altogether here. Not a day goes by now when I do not see something odd and unsightly. My newest dislike is the cockroach. I remember reading stories taking place in great American cities, where all apartments had roaches, and I also remember thinking I would rather die than live in a place with an insect that could survive a nuclear holocaust. I eat my words now. There are roaches here. There are BIG roaches here. They are so disgusting that you can't help but be in awe of them. As I write there is a 4 inch behemoth right under our patio. While I sleep I have nightmares that they will drop off our ceiling and land on our bed. Every ping or tick I hear in our place sounds like a roach. To be honest though, my nightmares are founded on nothing but imagination and wives' tales, because I have not seen a single cockroach in our apartment...yet. What we do have however, is the smallest species of ants known to mankind. They are the dwarfs of the ant world with an acute sense of smell. The peanut butter jar will have not been on the counter for more than 10 seconds when out march half of the troupe. If they weren't so pesky I would actually think them rather cute. After the ants and roaches there is the category of "insects on steroids." I am certain that the largest beetle in the world lives here. When I dropped Blake off at work the other morning we noticed a gigantor beetle nearly half the size of his shoe. He was so big he was nearly pet-keeping size. Last night while playing tennis we also saw the largest moth I ever wish to see. I interrupted Blake's and Jan's intense game with a shocked exclamation of " What the HECK was that?" We had to follow it around the court for a minute to be certain we weren't looking at a small bat. And this phenomenon doesn't stop with the insects. Yesterday I watched a giant iguana sun himself on a palm tree. I nearly swerved off the road a week ago when driving Blake home after a lizard the size of a small rotweiller came rushing along the shoulder. I do have to add that I am pretty fond of the iguanas here-you can't help but respect them when they stare you down with a look of superiority. I can even deal with the bird-eating moths and maybe... maybe even the cockroaches, but there is still one insect that makes my heart run cold. One that, should I ever see, will have me paralyzed in fear. The scariest and ugliest of them all- the scorpion. Every day that goes by without a scorpion sighting is one less I have to live here in fear of them. They are uncommon enough to warrant stories of their sightings, yet common enough to ensure you check your shoes before you wear them. Infact, a scorpion was curled up on our friends' welcome mat just last week. Finally, I just heard the news yesterday, after nearly 50 years absence, the island's namesake is back! The Caiman (a type of crocodile) are reappearing on seven mile beach now. The first sighting being on the very section Blake and I spent the day at on the weekend. With the diversity of land creatures here, I fearfully ponder what we will find underwater when we do our PADI course in 2 weeks...

Six months

Today is Blake and I's 6 month anniversary. Not such a big deal to most people, but when you have never been married before -being married for 6 months feels like some sort of milestone. Blake jokes that he is surprised that I have put up with his nonsense for this long, but the real truth is that he is putting up with me. You see, I happen to be married to the most amazing man in the world- for those of you who don't know this. I'm certain that there are plenty of wonderful men out there, but Blake is definitely the most suited for me. He has a lot to put up with. For one, I don't work, and lets be honest, its not like I'm a stay-at-home mom, which is a full-time job in itself, and it is not as if we have a huge house that takes oodles of time to look after, nor an impressive hobby that requires my full attention. No, I am a stay at home wife of a one bedroom 600 sq ft apartment with virtually no hobbies and a limited supply of friends. Secondly, I have odd habits. Poor Blake is constantly having to secure the bottom bed sheet before we sleep so it is nice and tight, and ward me off when I scrutinize his eyebrows with tweezers in hand. Thirdly, I suspect that I am a bit bossy. My mom has always told me this, but secretly I know EXACTLY who I inherited this trait from. I know how everything in the world needs to be done, and I must impart this great knowledge upon Blake. Mostly though, I feel like Blake has to put up with me because he is such a great guy, whose flaws I could maybe count on one hand, but even then I would have to make some up, and I , well I have a lot of flaws! However right or wrong I am, I do know that I am one lucky girl. And what better place to celebrate our first few anniversaries together than the most beautiful island in the caribbean?!

PS- Got sick of the old template, decided it had to go! An inability to make up my mind is yet another trait that Blake must endure!

Selfish volunteering

Who ever thought that one could tire of playing endless rounds of tennis, going for long beach walks, hanging out with iguanas and solving a year's worth of Sudokus? Not me, for one, but the inevitable has happened. I have lived in paradise for over a month and the luxuries and complete lack of stress that accompanies unemployment on a secluded island are now taking their toll. At first I thought that perhaps I should vary my activities, maybe go snorkelling instead of tennis, or stroll main street rather than walk to the iguana sanctuary, but that did not work. Then I thought that cleaning our apartment would be a good and useful activity, but if you know me, then you know how that turned out... Finally I came to the conclusion that a more serious effort is needed in the job-searching department, as I don't think I am cut out to be a housewife. So every week I await the Friday classifieds like a kid waiting for the Sears Christmas Catalogue. I rush out with my $0.50 to the nearest gas station and rush home in anticipation of an ad with the heading "Natalie's Perfect Job." Surprisingly I have yet to find it, instead I flip through page after page of Senior Trust Manager Wanted and Seeking Caymanian Surgeons. It appears that everyone here has got a high level of education, but I wonder who is educating these people, because I have not heard back from a single school looking for a teacher! So, in order to curb the impending boredom while I search and wait for employment, I made the decision to volunteer. Now I realize that most volunteers volunteer selflessly, and to help out. This makes me feel only slightly guilty that I am volunteering for me, for my benefit and for my sanity. In order to be a selfish volunteer, I figured I should stay away from causes that are human related, or ones that would see right through my "good intentions." Instead I have been volunteering at the local Humane Society, as a dog walker and cat cuddler. The animals don't seem to notice that I am doing this more for me than for them! Then Karma took over. Somehow the tables got turned, and I am now being used by the Humane Society as their personal vacation destination for animals with kennel cough, cat flu and those needing to be "tamed." So Wednesday saw Blake and I bringing home our first foster kitten, Isabella. She has the cat flu and needs medicine twice daily. She will be with us for a week or so, until she is in an adoptable state, and then it will be on to the next sad case. Needless to say, I am now so busy taming and training this feral kitty, that I am dreaming of some time alone when I don't need to worry if she is tearing up the pleather sofa or drowning in the toilet bowl so that I can take a nice peaceful walk on the beach, or play a good round of tennis.

'Straya Day

An interesting thing about the Cayman Islands is that they are more of a "melting pot" than Canada. Every nationality celebrates their country's day, there are themed bars and restaurants for many nations, and everyone you talk to has an accent from somewhere. This past weekend was Australia Day. It was actually on Tuesday, but all of the festivities were held on Saturday at the pool bar of the hotel we stayed in upon our arrival (the one that charged us $80 for two unanswered 1-800 phone calls... but that is a different entry). Our Aussie friends invited us out, with promises that noone would have to eat Vegimite. It was pretty busy, and the Australian top 100 songs were played over the speakers-Land Down Under being replayed several times. There were several team sports, one that did include the dreaded vegemite, but luckily neither Blake nor myself had to eat it. At the end of the night we headed to Wendy's for a very North American $0.99 hamburger to wash away the taste of Foster's Beer, which oddly enough, none of the Aussie's had ever had. Oh well.
On another note, Blake and I are ecstatic to announce that we have a new fridge! After a prior entry about my good friend Louis fixing the stinky flooding fridge, it promptly broke again, this time covering most of the floor with Freon juice from the ice-maker. Having had enough, I called up our landlady and complained until she bought us a new one! It may not seem like big news to you, but we nearly cried tears of joy while dumping out the bowls of baking soda we had been using to try and clear out the nasty funk smell of the old fridge. As I write I am looking at it in all of its sparkly white beauty. It matches our oven, it matches our cupboards, right now it even matches my shirt. I think I am in love.

Pictured above: the gang celebrating Aussie Day; Our Aussie teamates (and some non-Aussie teammates) during the beer drinking challenge