From Stingray City to Hell in one easy weekend
There is nothing like an unexpected adventure to add a little spice to life. This past Memorial Day weekend, I had no plans and no ideas beyond hanging out at home, where tradition dictates that, since it is a long weekend, it will rain. But just as suddenly as a Miami rain shower rolls in , there was a change to my work schedule and I found out I would be in Grand Cayman for three days.
I had barely enough time to run to Target for a bikini, a beach hat and some sunscreen (all that one really needs in the Caribbean) and even less time to research what we would do once we arrived. But without even consulting my best friend, Google, there was one thing that I knew we had to do and that was visit Stingray City. These shallow sandbars off of Grand Cayman's North Shore are famous for the domesticated Southern Stingrays that come to be hand-fed by visitors.
It is estimated that at feeding times, there are as many as 40 of them in the area. They are usually seriously out-numbered by hundreds of tourists, but since this is the weekend that everything was to go our way, there was no cruise ship in port and our group of 15 had the run of Stingray City all to ourselves. We got to touch their velvety wings, kiss them for seven years good luck, swim with them and ultimately feed them small chunks of squid. During feeding time, they swarmed around us like paparazzi. I was especially popular and would like to think that it was my magnetic personality that drew them near, but it is possible that having my jokester friend, Matt, swim up from behind and marinate me like a turkey by rubbing a chunk of squid all over me had a little something to do with it.
The time not spent with stingrays was dedicated to Caybrew (the local beer), relaxing on the beach and near constant eating at the many good (but pricey) restaurants near our hotel on 7 Mile Beach, which I must mention is only about 5 1/2 miles long. The tendency to exaggerate length, despite verifiable facts to the contrary, tells me that this place must have been named by a man (sorry, that was just too easy for me to pass up). At one point, I ventured off of the beach to a tourist trap so tacky that I found it completely irresistible. It is a "town" named Hell with nothing but a rock formation, a post office (to get that Hell postmark from) and a handful of souvenir shops selling "My so-and-so went to Hell and all I got was this lousy t-shirt" caliber knick knacks. I did not buy anything , but immature person that I am, I got my giggles from asking the bus driver if he stopped in Hell and would he please point out to me when we were, in fact, in Hell. There were also "I just went to Hell and back" reports delivered to my friends, who quite sensibly opted to stay on the beach. That, unlike this fortuitous weekend, was only to be expected...
Above photos taken by Lillia Bello via Blackberry of Matt and I surrounded by stingrays. (In case there is any question, I'm the one in the polka dot bikini.)
Getting a shoulder rub from a stingray.
This stingray, who was born without a tail, is known as "Frisbee".
Photo taken with a disposable water-proof camera.
This group left moments after we arrived, leaving all the stingrays to us.
Initially, I thought this was one of the island's rare endemic blue iguanas...
but further inspection revealed that he was a petulant green iguana, who must have been holding his breath to achieve a bluish hue.
This small town has turned its unusual name into a kitschy tourist industry, offering countless punny souvenirs and the chance to send a postcard with a Hell postmark.
The name is believed to derive from rock formations in the area, which some view as Hellish-looking.
Rum Point beach, on the North-Eastern end of the island.
Rum Point snack shack.
The aptly-named Curly Tailed Lizard.
Sunset on 7 Mile Beach.
Watching the storm roll in (probably from Miami)...
I had barely enough time to run to Target for a bikini, a beach hat and some sunscreen (all that one really needs in the Caribbean) and even less time to research what we would do once we arrived. But without even consulting my best friend, Google, there was one thing that I knew we had to do and that was visit Stingray City. These shallow sandbars off of Grand Cayman's North Shore are famous for the domesticated Southern Stingrays that come to be hand-fed by visitors.
It is estimated that at feeding times, there are as many as 40 of them in the area. They are usually seriously out-numbered by hundreds of tourists, but since this is the weekend that everything was to go our way, there was no cruise ship in port and our group of 15 had the run of Stingray City all to ourselves. We got to touch their velvety wings, kiss them for seven years good luck, swim with them and ultimately feed them small chunks of squid. During feeding time, they swarmed around us like paparazzi. I was especially popular and would like to think that it was my magnetic personality that drew them near, but it is possible that having my jokester friend, Matt, swim up from behind and marinate me like a turkey by rubbing a chunk of squid all over me had a little something to do with it.
The time not spent with stingrays was dedicated to Caybrew (the local beer), relaxing on the beach and near constant eating at the many good (but pricey) restaurants near our hotel on 7 Mile Beach, which I must mention is only about 5 1/2 miles long. The tendency to exaggerate length, despite verifiable facts to the contrary, tells me that this place must have been named by a man (sorry, that was just too easy for me to pass up). At one point, I ventured off of the beach to a tourist trap so tacky that I found it completely irresistible. It is a "town" named Hell with nothing but a rock formation, a post office (to get that Hell postmark from) and a handful of souvenir shops selling "My so-and-so went to Hell and all I got was this lousy t-shirt" caliber knick knacks. I did not buy anything , but immature person that I am, I got my giggles from asking the bus driver if he stopped in Hell and would he please point out to me when we were, in fact, in Hell. There were also "I just went to Hell and back" reports delivered to my friends, who quite sensibly opted to stay on the beach. That, unlike this fortuitous weekend, was only to be expected...
Above photos taken by Lillia Bello via Blackberry of Matt and I surrounded by stingrays. (In case there is any question, I'm the one in the polka dot bikini.) 
Getting a shoulder rub from a stingray.
This stingray, who was born without a tail, is known as "Frisbee".
Photo taken with a disposable water-proof camera.
This group left moments after we arrived, leaving all the stingrays to us.
Initially, I thought this was one of the island's rare endemic blue iguanas...
but further inspection revealed that he was a petulant green iguana, who must have been holding his breath to achieve a bluish hue. This small town has turned its unusual name into a kitschy tourist industry, offering countless punny souvenirs and the chance to send a postcard with a Hell postmark.
The name is believed to derive from rock formations in the area, which some view as Hellish-looking.
Rum Point beach, on the North-Eastern end of the island. Rum Point snack shack.
The aptly-named Curly Tailed Lizard.
Sunset on 7 Mile Beach. 
Watching the storm roll in (probably from Miami)...
Nothing tops 7 mile beach. I'm glad you had a good time (as you always do). Surprised you did not ride the submarine, or visit the cayman turtle farm.
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