Coming towards the end of my Cuban/Caribbean trip now. By this stage I’d just heard the news about the floods in Tadcaster, realised Lemmy was not immortal as I thought, and seen Stoke City play like Barcelona. All bad news, and a 24 journey home to come.
I was looking forward to a return to the Caymans, even though Georgetown itself is a bit drab in a 1950s America sort of way. With the Financial District closed for Christmas it was also desperately quiet.
There is one good reason the cruise ships stop at Georgetown, and that’s the sealife. The bad reasons are cheap electronics and bars with names like Senor Frogs.
On this stop we swam with stingrays on a sandbank a mile or so off the coast, which was as exhilarating but slightly nervy as expected.
Back at the port we needed a beer, and the Caymans produces some excellent brews, including a 7% Bock as good as anything in the Caribbean.
The only downside is the price – $7.50 US reflects the sort of visitors the Caymans gets. Served in an attractive bottle in a shed, albeit with idyllic views, Mrs RM didn’t get a look in on this one.
I remembered this place heaving on my previous visit on Christmas Eve, full of drunks Americans singing “Sweet Caroline” (seemingly a Caymans anthem) badly. From memory we’d resorted to the imported beers in Hard Rock Café before stumbling on this minor gem, which probably says all you need to know about the extent of the Caymans beer scene.
No, I don’t like drinking straight out of the bottle, but needs must.