When we got off the plane on Grand Cayman, we were greeted at Customs by lines of white people, wearing beachy clothes and smelling of laundry detergent and sunblock. Lots of families. At least one person in each family group had a shirt touting a destination from a previous vacation. These were professional tourists. The kind that go on vacation to the Caribbean.

I go on vacation in the Caribbean, too.  But I’ve never done it as a stranger. Our many trips to Trinidad and Tobago have been met with family at the other end, and our trip to the Cayman Islands was no different.

Since the Chaplain’s friend had arranged our accommodations, we didn’t know the address of the place where we’d be staying – something you need to provide at Customs. The Customs Officer called the Chaplain’s friend on his cell to find out the address, while we waited at the counter, hoping the friend would answer a call from an unknown number. He did, and we were allowed to continue through.

We were met at the airport by the same friend and former roommate of the Chaplain’s from the time when he lived in the Cayman Islands. The friend had never met me in real life. Still, he recognized me immediately even though the Chaplain was still inside the airport sorting his international SIM card while I waited outside, soaking in the Caribbean air when his friend pulled up.

The friend greeted us with a huge grin and hugs, and took us to the apartment where we’d be staying, with a couple of stops along the way to see old friends. One of the old friends we visited gave us two mangoes from her mango tree. It would become a theme of hospitality while we were there. If you travel to the Caribbean when mangoes are in season, eat them as many times and as many ways possible, because you can’t take them back with you. I was fully cooked by the time we got to the apartment the first night. I took two of these selfies, one with a smile, but the smile is so fake that I’m just using the other pic. This is my travel uniform. I made the bead necklace on a trip to Tobago years ago. I brought beading supplies along and did it as a craft one day with the kids and made one for myself while they worked on theirs. It spells out “Peace” and has a little stone bead shaped like a dove. I’m wearing a buttery rayon t shirt (from Amazon, *facepalm* I haven’t been able to quit yet even after watching this video by John Oliver which made me sick) and my homemade black rayon Arenite pants, plus the elephant necklace I wore on my other trip.

Perhaps you didn’t notice, but because it’s showing I’m going to address it: Over the past year, I stopped shaving my pits. When I grew them out the first time this past fall, inspired by my fearless daughter, I didn’t even know what it would look like because the moment hair appeared when I was a teen, I immediately shaved it off. I remember that summer feeling ashamed on behalf of another girl at the local pool who had hairy pits and clearly didn’t the means to get a razor so she could take care of it. What a crappy culture to come of age in, to feel ashamed of our own hair.

This summer, at the Juneteenth celebration we attended, there was a young woman who was wearing a tank top and unshaved pits. She projected a confidence and comfort in her own skin that I only dream of, and it made me realize it doesn’t have to be winter to grow your hair out. So I went to the Caribbean with hairy pits and wore tank tops every day like a boss.The morning after our late afternoon arrival, the Chaplain took me to a little beach within walking distance of our apartment. It was overcast, and the beach was rocky with just two narrow places where sand met the water. We had the place to ourselves and had a lovely sea bath.

Now that I’ve already talked about hairy pits, there’s another thing: I got my period on vacation not once, but twice this year. There is a lot of misinformation out there about whether or not you can swim on your period, and many of us just stay out of the water to save ourselves the hassle. I knew down in my heart that competitive divers and swimmers were not giving up practicing just because of Aunt Flo, so I took a page from their book. I used tampons for swimming. After doing this for several days, living in fear that a shark was going to eat me, I finally poured my heart out to Google and found this article. On the main search page and in the article, the third thing down is about sharks eating us while we are swimming on our period. I’m not the only one who has been brainwashed by the that “one drop of blood” malarkey. Since your menstrual flow isn’t just blood but some other stuff, too, it doesn’t even have the same effect blood does on sharks. Basically, you don’t smell like what sharks want for dinner. Plus, if you’re wearing a tampon, it is very unlikely anything will get in the water.So, if you have ever sat on the side of a pool or in the sand at the beach and looked longingly out at the water because your period came at an inconvenient time, JUST GET IN THE WATER. Even if a shark did eat you, at least you would have died doing what you loved. (But seriously, they won’t eat you. Google it.) If you aren’t a fan of tampons (I’m not, either, and I only use them for swimming) you can also use a menstrual cup. Before we left, I planned to wear handmade clothing every day of our trip. I succeeded! The dress in the beach photo above was an asymmetrical thing I got by accident with an Etsy order. I’ve never been sure what exactly it was – a boho top? A tunic? A dress that wasn’t long enough in important places? It cut up so high in the center of the front and back that it let everything hang out. So I added a band of India tie dye cotton to the hem to make it wearable, along with a couple of other alterations to adjust the neckline. It’s become one of my favorite summer dresses.

We wandered around the touristy part of George Town later that morning. My favorite parts were the murals and finding the library.I found a black umbrella in the closet of our Caymanian apartment and used it for shade from the sun, a trick I used from Tobagonians on my visits there. There was a label inside that said “JORDANA CLARKE.” It was printed with a label maker, and the umbrella was top notch. I used it every day we were there and it saved me from more than one sunburn. Ms. Clarke, if you are out there in the internet ether, wondering what happened to your umbrella, it was a blessing to me! Thank you for leaving it behind. I left it where I found it, so if you’re ever back on Grand Cayman, you can retrieve it.A friend picked us up from downtown after we ran out of things to see and took us to the Thai Orchid for lunch. There, we enjoyed good conversation and I had the first and best mango salad I’ve ever eaten.The next day, after another sea bath, we planned to do a tour of the Crystal Caves. This was my only requested attraction on the trip. I’d looked up activities in the Cayman Islands and it had come up as a recently discovered feature of Grand Cayman. We arrived right around the time of the tour we wanted to go on, but our liaison, a friend of a friend, had not realized he wouldn’t be at work the day we were going for our tour.

Instead of the VIP treatment and the locals’ rate, we were told there were no spots left for the time slot we wanted, and the next tour was in two hours. While I was a little disappointed not to get our preferred time, I was also a little relieved not to be getting special treatment. I figured we could drive around nearby and see what there was to see.

To be continued in Part II next week…

I promise, there will just be pics and stories from here on out.  No more pits and periods.