Grand Cayman is the perfect vacation island, but it's also the land of glaring contradictions...

It's a tourist stop du jour, and yet the entire island isn't overrun with vacationers. It's the offshore banking capital and financial hub for many, yet businesses close up shop when there's no cruise ship in the harbour; who needs to raise a profit on every working day? But the greatest irony revolved around the strong religious presence within the largely pious society. There seemed to be a church on every corner, and yet the doors to Hell were open to all.

Contrariety aside, Grand Cayman is a heavenly island and it was actually fun to visit Hell for a hot minute.  In a way, it was a bit reassuring to see that Satan's lair was only the size of a small park; I was half expecting Dante-esque realms which spiralled down into some fiery abyss. 

And by God, was I relieved to see that one could come in and out of Hell as one pleases!

So much fun was had traipsing around the netherworld, that 'I made it to Hell and back in one piece!' was the very doltish title I originally concocted for this post. Had the text all edited, auto-published, and everything before I took a once-over this morning and quickly realized the post-title probably belonged in the hall-of-fame for tourist tee-shirt slogans.

The jagged rock formations were actually the result of acid-rain and rock consumption by carbonate-loving organisms - a kind of hellish lime or dolostone, if you will. And when I tossed a pebble into its depths, the rocks echoed as if the little stone was dropping into a hollow cavern - I kid you not.

Strangely enough, when viewed from the right angle the craggy landscape did seem quite like the Hell of one's imagination...

NB Images copyright © 2012 Au Courant Studio, LLC, All Rights Reserved

I'll eat almost anything once it's curried. However, when my aunt, a chef at Cimboco's in Grand Cayman, offered to make me their special West Indian curry chicken pizza, I have to admit that I balked ever so slightly at the idea.

Curry on pizza? How the hell does that work; does one sprinkle the curry powder as a garnish? And what about the cheese? Frankly, curry and cheese sounded like the recipe for a severe bout of diarrhea...

Ask any respectable West Indian about eating curry and they'll most likely cast their eyes up to the heavens and wax poetic about the wonders of paratha or dhalpurie roti, made in the Indo-Trinidadian or Guyanese traditions.

No one, and I repeat, no one, will ever mention the virtues of curry pizzas because it's just not 'a thing'. 

But seeing as my dearest aunt - let's call her AJ - has made sumptuous dishes for me on a variety of occasions since birth, I decided to just close my eyes and eat the bloody pizza. After all, a dose of Pepto Bismol cures all stomach woes, non?

Perhaps the bruschetta and heady chardonnay - coupled with the fact that I was ravenous from a full afternoon of frolicking on Seven Mile Beach - had lowered my inhibitions. Whatever the case, I was in for a pleasant surprise when the entree arrived: the curry pizza was one of the best things I had eaten during my entire Caymanian vacation, hands down.

With the curry used in place of the typical tomato paste, the pizza was finished off with hand-tossed spinach leaves, pineapples, a sprinkle of mozzarella cheese and highly seasoned bits of chicken breast - you could even smell the cilantro wafting off the plate.

Delicious, I tell you...

NB Images copyright © 2012 Au Courant Studio, LLC, All Rights Reserved

I had grand plans of sharing snapshots from my birthday sunset lime on board the Pirate Ship, Jolly Roger.

However, when one tries to take pictures on board what is essentially a booze-cruise, one is often unable to steady one's hands long enough to complete the task.

And thus, the only images worth sharing are often the ones taken before approaching the deck.

Why, you say? I leave the details up to your imagination...

NB Images copyright © 2012 Au Courant Studio, LLC, All Rights Reserved