A year without shoes in Grand Cayman (or How I Chucked It All and Just Went Diving)
It's been more than a year since I've worn "real" shoes. My Teva sandals have been more than enough as I settled into island life. As you may have gathered, I am one of the few that chucked it all and moved to the islands.
I've found that the island is full of expat's who have done exactly the same thing. It's a community that doesn't always mix with the locals, but provides a breadth of experience that is surprising.
I work as a dive instructor. I was a laboratory geneticist. I work with two retired policemen, a nurse, an aircraft mechanic, a computer system's specialist, a barkeeper, a finance officer, and others from a variety of fields. For various reasons, we have all decided that we'd rather go diving.
Others often write to ask if it is possible to make the break and move. You can, if you will let yourself. It is a different way of living. Just don't bother to bring socks. You won't need them.
Island life is not all one long vacation. There are the routines of daily life here the same as anywhere. Grocery shopping, banking, cleaning, laundry and all the little errands that intrude on life happen here to. We are not immune, but we do operate with a different set of priorities. Things will get done in time - in island time - maybe this week, maybe next month, maybe next year. What's the rush?
I gave up logging dives early this year, but averaged nearly two dives a day for the 10 months I kept a log here. Some are memorable for all the right reasons and others for all the wrong reasons. The undersea world never fails to amaze. I step into the sea yards from my apartment door and the North Wall is a short swim out.
And so, with great trepidation, I go wheels up in the morning for my vacation - my break from white sand beaches and the sounds of waves out my bedroom window. People often ask me where our dive staff go for vacation. In my case it is to Miami for an opening day baseball game and some down time. I look forward to some little things - trying to remember how to drive on the right side of the road, a breakfast at Cracker Barrel, buying new eyeglasses, and maybe even venture into a WalMart. Four days should be enough.
The surface interval has begun. It'll take a few hundred dives to recover from my vacation.
It's been more than a year since I've worn "real" shoes. My Teva sandals have been more than enough as I settled into island life. As you may have gathered, I am one of the few that chucked it all and moved to the islands.
I've found that the island is full of expat's who have done exactly the same thing. It's a community that doesn't always mix with the locals, but provides a breadth of experience that is surprising.
I work as a dive instructor. I was a laboratory geneticist. I work with two retired policemen, a nurse, an aircraft mechanic, a computer system's specialist, a barkeeper, a finance officer, and others from a variety of fields. For various reasons, we have all decided that we'd rather go diving.
Others often write to ask if it is possible to make the break and move. You can, if you will let yourself. It is a different way of living. Just don't bother to bring socks. You won't need them.
Island life is not all one long vacation. There are the routines of daily life here the same as anywhere. Grocery shopping, banking, cleaning, laundry and all the little errands that intrude on life happen here to. We are not immune, but we do operate with a different set of priorities. Things will get done in time - in island time - maybe this week, maybe next month, maybe next year. What's the rush?
I gave up logging dives early this year, but averaged nearly two dives a day for the 10 months I kept a log here. Some are memorable for all the right reasons and others for all the wrong reasons. The undersea world never fails to amaze. I step into the sea yards from my apartment door and the North Wall is a short swim out.
And so, with great trepidation, I go wheels up in the morning for my vacation - my break from white sand beaches and the sounds of waves out my bedroom window. People often ask me where our dive staff go for vacation. In my case it is to Miami for an opening day baseball game and some down time. I look forward to some little things - trying to remember how to drive on the right side of the road, a breakfast at Cracker Barrel, buying new eyeglasses, and maybe even venture into a WalMart. Four days should be enough.
The surface interval has begun. It'll take a few hundred dives to recover from my vacation.
