Easter is a busy time on the beaches of the Cayman Islands. It’s a camper's paradise. Ah, the call of the wild! Crackling campfires, starlit skies, the sweet symphony of ‘insecty-things’… it’s enough to make anyone yearn for the great outdoors.
But alas as any camper knows, before you can achieve peak nature-immersion, anywhere in the world, you must first navigate the wonderfully disheveled, slightly ikky and definitely bug-spray-scented vortex of the pre-camping countdown. It’s a chaotic jig of tent pole wrangling, who is getting/bringing what - and frantic gear inventory … and increasingly desperate attempts to ensure you have what you need. In one week, the beaches of Grand Cayman will look less like a place of tropical tranquility and more like a tent convention exploded. It’s wonderful! Sleeping bags are draped over trees like giant, colourful slugs. The music is pumping. There are generators, mattresses, sofas … And the air is thick with the faint, yet persistent, aroma of sweet sweet barbecue smoke its actually an unexpected sight for visitors! Locally, it is super popular, and Caymanians really pride themselves on Easter camping. Given we have a date with our hiking boots and backpacks in June and July, we’re abandoning Cayman and jetting off for an all-inclusive relaxed week (please don't judge me), followed by a sea of soca chaos that is the annual carnival in Jamaica this Easter. yay!
But because the universe enjoys irony, the days leading up to any escape whether locally into nature or an all-inclusive resort, there are seemingly never ending preparations!
Suddenly, at work it feels like every email is a top priority. Requests sprout like stubborn weeds. I find myself simultaneously trying to finalise that presentation prep, remember to set my out-of-office (with a hint of smugness about my impending freedom), and mentally transition from the overwhelm. My internal monologue goes something like this: "Just one more assignment to mark… okay, three more… maybe if I just … FOCUS!"
Then of course there is all the home prep, my fur-baby, (bless the patient souls of our canine companions), all the frantic running around and cases being pulled out can be… perplexing. While there's a lot of enthusiastic tail wags followed by confused head tilts when I try to explain to my dog, Mr Scoobs, apparently, he is being led to believe that every pile of neatly stacked items is a personal invitation to him for a high-speed take-down. I can't wait for our pet whisperer to arrive (who flys to stay with us, and always says yes to love and care for our furry overlord while we’re off gallivanting) he is a god send. Scoobers in his senior years has developed some very specific preferences for belly rubs, attention and playtimes. We are lucky because our best friend, (Mr Primo) swoops in and embraces our interpretive doggy dance with grace!
This madness of course all happens in-conjunction with my seemingly never-ending laundry olympics. An event that deserves its own medal! It all starts innocently enough: "Oh, I should probably wash a few things." Cut to three days later and you're staring down the Everest of ironing. Deciding what to take and wear is challenging, ideally, I'd like to pack every cute outfit I’d like to wear. But my strategic folding of things is not going well.
Before Mr Primo's arrival we embark on the great kitchen purge! This is where we confront the reality of our questionable food choices over the past weeks. The goal is to empty the fridge of anything that could potentially achieve sentience while we are gone. This often involves us having a number of bizarre meals of random leftovers that no sane person would combine under normal circumstances. Tonight’s special? A toasted cheese sandwich, some salad that 'may.. be... ok', a slightly bruised banana - but wait.... hello donut! Bon appétit!
Then, finally comes we need to get the house clean and ready for Mr Primo phase, combined with the I swore I was prepared phase. Just when you've cleaned, shopped and dropped and thought you had everything, comes the chilling realisation, you forgot something that leads to yet another frantic pilgrimage to the store.
But amidst the chaos, there’s a growing sense of excitement and anticipation. Each packed bag, each carefully chosen item, each item on the to-do list covered, picking up Mr Primo from the airport, all means we are closer to our adventures. So, fellow adventurers wherever and whatever your Easter plans, take heart, for Easter symbolises hope, renewal and new life, not just spiritually but personally!
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I still have some stuff to do, so wish me luck! Happy Easter friends and see you, albeit virtually, again in May! And to my happy camping friends – may your campsites be scenic, with sleep and fun in equal measures, and your mosquito bites minimal!
