TREASURE ISLAND

The Cayman Islands are known more for banking than for the visual arts. But on a recent trip, Sarah Greaves-Gabbadon uncovered the country’s abundance of sensory delights

THE SAND ON GRAND CAYMAN'S Seven Mile Beach was every bit as soft and white as I remembered, the water just as mesmerisingly turquoise. But on this trip, there were no cruise ships bobbing on the horizon like oversize tub toys. No reggae blared from unseen speakers. No day-trippers swarmed the beach with their matching striped towels and logo-adorned beach bags. The usual bustle was reduced to an occasional walker, and I couldn't tell whether they were locals or tourists. From the shade of my canopied chaise, I surveyed the sunny scallop of sand and counted a total of nine people.

I had missed this strip of coastline. Grand Cayman's marquee beach, technically a little less than 10 kilometres long (but who's counting?), has always been a favorite spot of mine. I've downed frosty bottles of Caybrew at its many beach bars; shopped at its hotel boutiques; and, of course, sunk my toes into its sugar-fine sand more times than I can count. But after the Cayman Islands, like the rest of the Caribbean, locked down in March 2020, the country didn't reopen the following summer or fall, as many of its neighbours did. Instead, the self-governing British overseas territory stayed largely off-limits to vacationers for almost two years. In the process, it successfully protected the population of just over 67,000 from the ravages of the pandemic.

"We did miss the tourists. They're an important part of our economy," said Hannah Ebanks, the public relations officer from the Department of Tourism, on the first day of my visit. We were eating fancy grilled cheese sandwiches, scented with truffle, at the Brasserie (entrées ₹1,655-₹2,813; brasseriecayman.com), in the heart of George Town, the capital. “But, as a local, it was really nice to enjoy Seven Mile Beach and have that little slice of heaven all to ourselves.”