Caymans Confidential

"This is a great place to relax away from the crowds," says David Pex of Portland , Ore., a repeat guest who is running the hotel while the owner vacations. "We like to be connected to a place. As tourists, you'll never be part of the community, but staying out here you interact with the community."

Best of the Middle

During my days on the island, I continue to search for acceptable lodgings for less than $200. It's relatively easy to find options within those parameters off-season, but winter rates tend to knock out most contenders -- at least those on the waterfront.

That's especially true along the prime location of Seven Mile Beach, which runs along the shore several miles from George Town. My best advice for those who insist on staying close to this upscale part of the island: Treasure Island Resort. Winter rates are technically at least $20 more than my $200 threshold, but deals are available. In October and November, for example, when rates are normally $155 to $190, the resort was listed last week on Expedia.com for $115.

A series of swimming pools weave through the property. Rooms have tile floors, air conditioning, cable TV and sliding-glass doors leading to patios or balconies. It's a good buy for the location in the heart of the action.

Another mid-range hotel we liked is Cobalt Coast Resort and Suites, a few miles down from Seven Mile Beach, where rooms start at $160. One of this hotel's greatest assets is its feeling of remoteness. The two-story property is simple yet elegant and only two years old. All of the rooms are modern, with tile or wood floors.

As a bonus, the Cobalt Coast's owner tips me off to an island artist known as Miss Lassie in South Sound. In the art world, Miss Lassie is known as Gladwyn K. Bush. Her paintings hang in galleries around the world and are in the permanent collection of the American Visionary Art Museum in Baltimore.

Later, I find Miss Lassie's bright but tumbledown house, which is covered with paintings of angels and sits on an acre or so of prime waterfront property. An elderly woman is raking the sand out in front. After we chat a minute, she invites me inside and shoos away a chicken so I can sit down.

She started painting when she was 61, Miss Lassie tells me, and is now "past my 88th year." She shows me a book that lauds her as a "visionary intuitive." The island government has also issued her work on a series of stamps.

"I paint on anything, but I can only paint what's in my mind's eye," she says.

I say her work reminds me of Grandma Moses. "Oh, they've made that comparison from East to West." She doesn't bother with false modesty about her work, but says she doesn't know why God has been so good to such a sinner.

What sort of sin? I ask. A bad temper, she tells me.

I understand what she means when leaving, as I notice a hand-painted sign at the gate: