Cayman Islands: Where money hides and Jamaican cocktails thrive…
The Cayman Islands are tiny. A sixth of the size of greater London, but with 8,843,052 less people. It was uninhabited when Christopher “the coloniser” Columbus arrived and was initially called Las Tortugas after the large number of turtles. Sadly they were too delicious to live and so later visitors renamed it after the caimans (alligators) who obviously put up more of a fight.
The Caymans were part of Jamaica until 1962, when the Beatles released their first single and Jamaica achieved independence. It is now a British overseas (non-self-governing) territory and an excellent place to launder money due to the fact it has never levied income tax, capital gains tax or any wealth tax. This is great for the uber-rich and a disaster for the rest of us. Thank you Caymans!
The Caymans therefore play a starring role in stopping global efforts to end organised crime and tax evasion. This role is the heart of this week’s book, The Firm by John “if it ain’t thrilling, I ain’t winning” Grisham. Just like the Caymans themselves, this light-hearted lump of a book is not taxing, but it is also enjoyable. It asks the question, can one high-flying lawyer from a disadvantaged background bring down the mafia whilst evading the FBI and managing to free his brother from a high security jail? I’ll let you guess the answer…
Drugs and dodgy financial deals were also at the heart of this week’s film Haven, which, bizarrely stars Orlando “surely I could do better than this” Bloom. It is the kind of film that has a gang leader called Richie Ritch, the kind of film that gets 13% on Rotten Tomatoes, the kind of film that makes you wish you had chosen to watch Tom “not just a scientologist” Cruise’s adaptation of The Firm instead. I think my review would probably be: don’t ever watch this film, I wasted 2 hours of my life on it so you don’t have to.
But, as you may have noticed, you can’t eat money, so what did we do for sustenance on our week in this black hole that sucks up the taxes we desperately need to run schools and hospitals? Well, we started with a Mudslide, a vodka cocktail that has been made in the Caymans since an inspired bartender swapped cream for Baileys in a White Russian. We followed this with Jamaican carrot juice (this was once part of Jamaica after all). This bizarre breakfast beverage is made up of carrot juice, stout, vegan condensed milk and rum. It is better than this week’s film but I would be surprised if I ever drank it again. The same cannot be said for Red Stripe lager which I have been drinking since the 1990s when it was all you could buy at the Brummie haven the Hummingbird nightclub.
Food was rice and peas and (vegan) jerk chicken curry, a classic which is popular with all who get fed it at the Wainwrights. I made the curry recipe myself basing it on a pot of spice I had bought and memories of dishes I had made before… The odds of it being in any way authentic are therefore quite slim. But the kids ate it far more happily than this week’s other food, a “sweet and sour Caribbean sauce” and packet “creamy Caribbean coconut sauce” I bought from the co-op. They were, as promised “ready in ten minutes” they were not, however, very nice. Go for the easy option at your peril!
I nearly failed to find Cayman music (bizarrely as my Jamaican playlist goes for several hours) but then I remembered about the band Kings of Convenience, a duo who wear jumpers and sing sad songs about happy things. Perhaps, I thought, they have put their royal duties on hold to write a depressing song about the Cayman Islands. And it turns out they have, so I will leave that with you whilst I prepare for my next, more daunting trip to Central African Republic.
