Somewhere in the Carribean there’s a sea turtle swimming around with my name on it.

Let me explain.

A number of years ago I was looking for an out of the way place for my wife and me to go on vacation. I had used a travel agent in Kirkland on occasion and asked if he had any ideas of such a place.

He said he had just come across something and suggested the Cayman Islands.

The Cayman Islands are made up of three small islands, a British Overseas Territory.

The islands are Grand Cayman, Little Cayman and Cayman Brac, with Grand Cayman the largest of the three.

Grand Cayman is about 22 miles long and very narrow. We were to fly to Houston and catch a connecting flight to George Town, the capital.

Population on the three islands is about 60,000 people. With Grand Cayman the largest population of the three.

Our lodging was a threadbare hotel about a mile from the center of town. While Grand Cayman was a stop for cruise ships, more attention was given to the one large vacation resort about five miles up the island.

The Caymans are known for their white, sandy beaches and water so clear you can study the bottom from 150 feet above. They take you out with glass bottom boats so you can see everything. The water is warm and you get the feel you are in the tropics. At George Town you are only 272 air miles from Cuba and about the same from Jamaica.

We got settled and took a spin in our rental car, making sure we drove on the wrong side of the road.

We learned of the Turtle Centre one evening after having a turtle steak at an oceanfront restaurant a few miles up the island.

The next day we drove to the turtle place and had to pay $20, a fee that would ensure that a sea turtle would be rehabilitated and released.

While the turtle would not actually have my name on it, the fee I paid would get a turtle released. While it all could have been a scam, I gladly paid.

Sea turtles we were told, live to a ripe old age of 80 years or better.

We were booked for a week, so had plenty of time to do nothing.

We visited the loan grocery store in town and were told their supplies were low because the boat hadn’t come in yet.

Except for a few dining experiences in scattered restaurants, we ate a lot in our hotel.

The islands were inhabited largely by descendants of slaves. Service at meals was interesting because it became apparent that there must have been total employment, with one person bringing menus, a separate person bringing water, and yet another person bringing the food. I don’t know if this was a way to enhance tipping or not.

One day, we walked several miles along the white, sandy beach to the lone five-star resort on the island. It was so garrish with all the lights and plastic trim. We couldn’t afford it, I was sure.

In mid-afternoon, each day, a truck loaded with bananas would park in the hotel parking lot and sell bananas by the bunch.

Houses on the island were very small and brightly colored in yellows and blues.

Most eating places had live music and wide-ranging menus.

We had a variety of turtle dishes, being careful, hopefully, not to eat on the one I paid for.

It is our hope that that turtle is still swimming around near there.