Ok, it's been forever and a day but I'm FINALLY travelling again. This time I'm off to Africa, Nairobi Kenya to be exact, with my girlfriend Annie. She's going to be in a wedding and I'm along to eat and drink all the strange things I can. They won't have kava (I've checked), but there is sure to be all kinds of different things we don't have over here. I've purposefully NOT done a ton of research for this trip just to be more surprised and inspired.

My travel gear has changed very little since the last time I was overseas. Still going with a decent sized backpack and a day pack, nothing fancy. I purposefully don't take fancy gizmos and gadgets when I go places. Ok, so that's kind of a lie. I'm bringing my iPhone but ONLY because it can be useful in case I really REALLY need to make a phone call. It can also store movies. But no fancy camera, no GPS, no laptop. But same battery charger, new camera that runs on AA batteries, same ancient Nalgene, same toiletry kit.

Let's go find some zebras . . . and eat them.

1-8-08

Way way way too long since last update. I can't count the number of times I've sat down with the intent of writing about all the things that have happened the previous but getting sidetracked with the multitude of events going on.

To put it simply, I've been the busiest I have ever been in the 26 years I've been on this planet. I'm not sure how it happened really, the job was going well and I was connecting with old friends but I needed to do more. So I found my old dance teachers to try and get back on the dance team (I used to dance salsa competitively). You know, to get back into the dance community. It turns out they needed another dance instructor for the new La Jolla studio (opening up Dec. 8th) and invited me to take instructor training, lots of ballroom classes and private instruction to bring me up to speed. So just about every waking hour I'm not working or sleeping (yes I can sleep while awake) I'm either dancing (amateur team, taking lessons, teaching) or en route to some dance event. And there are so many! Since I dance about 6 days a week in one form or another I've become quickly familiar with the local hot (and not-so-hot) dance spots.

But what else has kept me from updating, let's see. Oh yeah, I spent a few days in D.C. attending a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer conference that was awesome. There I was in a room full of people going through the same readjustment issues as I was, flipping out about traffic, fast food and hot water. Perhaps the strangest thing was meeting 3 other Vanuatu RPCV's at the conference. I immediately switched back into Bislama and started conversing, not even realizing that I was doing it. Our conversation went something like this (translated).

"Brother in law, how are you?"
"No, how are you?"
"No, I haven't seen you in a long time"
"Yes my brother in law, it is true we have not seen each other for a long time. When I saw you I thought you looked fat."
"Yes it is true I am fat now. But you are also fat! In fact I think you are more fat than me!"
" Haha, *expletive* I think you are right!"

So that was fun. We carried on for a little while longer, went to all the sessions and got caught up on all the gossip we'd missed out on. Later on I met up with some other RPCV's and took a tour of the D.C. monuments at night. I'd been to D.C. years and years ago with my family but had forgotten how everything looked, how European things resembled, and how the the area between the Lincoln Memorial and the reflecting pool was exactly like the view in Paris from the water fountain to the Eiffel Tower. Coincidence? Nope, they took the idea from Paris.

I got back home and some things happened. Can't really remember but that's because I don't have my journal on me right now and I record everything in there.

Right, Jenneric got married! For the uninformed Jenn and Eric (Jenneric, get it?) are two of my friends who met in Peace Corps Vanuatu and got married in New Jersey. I'd been looking forward to this wedding for a long time since it would be the first time I'd seen so many of my Peace Corps friends after leaving. Of course I wasn't disappointed, I arrived with my friend Katie and after some coordinating met up with what seemed to be 100 RPCV's, all cramped in two rooms, all drinking. The wedding was lovely, everyone looked great blah blah anyway at the reception there was a big kava bowl which was manned by my friend Joe. I'd heard that Jenneric had brought home about 10 kilos of kava and here it was, the vile elixir I used to drink every day for a year straight, smelling of fermented cucumber and tasting like mud and the silt from the bottom of the ocean. I don't remember how many shells I drank or how many people I got to drink with me or how I ended up supervising the drinking, but it all happened. And I have the photos to prove it.

8-20-07

It's been an emotional roller coaster recently. In the midst of job searches and studies, I found out I got the job with the (breathe) California Solar Initiative, working with the California Center for Sustainable Energy, formerly known San Diego Regional Energy Office (gasp).

To celebrate, my friends and I went to go see Vanilla Ice down at Canes. Yeah, the same Vanilla Ice we listened to in . . . elementary school? Was it that long ago? Ice only played for a little over an hour and he's really more Insane Clown Posse than his other alter egos, complete with evil clown props and lighting pulled from a disco palette. And if watching Vanilla Ice trying (horribly) to get them to take off their clothes was bad, he proceeded to plug his appearance on Country Music Television's "Celebrity Bull Riding Challenge." Reality TV gone horribly wrong.

Of course in the midst of all this excitement I managed to get a recall letter (after the concert, not during) for a specific product because the company, in their infinite wisdom, decided that infecting thousands of loyal chili-eating customers with botulism would be bad for business. Don't know what botulism is? It's what happens when bacteria thrive in what should have been a sterile (tin can) environment. Oh, and it turns you into a quadriplegic.

Fun!

Maybe that's why my stomach was flip flopping more than a presidential nominee.

Anyway I'm now working for the California Center for Sustainable Energy. It's a mouthful but I make it shorter by saying that I work for the CSI program in the CCSE. Of course no one knows what that is so I say I work with "solar energy". It's quick, like our attention span.

Truncating my job description wasn't so difficult after explaining where (or what) Vanuatu is, and in 60 seconds encapsulating 3+ years of Peace Corps experience. I swear, I've got it down to a few sound bites. And if I have my island photos it's that much shorter. Pretty much it goes something like this.

"So how was the Peace Corps?"

"Good"

"Sweet, I always wanted to join the Peace Corps. Maybe you can tell me about it and I can act like I know what you're talking about"

"Sounds like a blast, here's some photos I took while I was there"

"Hey, black people!"

Ok ok, so the people I work with are actually a lot cooler than that. Our director even knows where Vanuatu is, which is definitely a good sign. My coworkers genuinely care about the environment, going so far as to banning plastic bottles in the workplace and turning off lights while they're still in their offices. Genius! We have a flex-fuel van and host workshops about their free shade tree program, calculating energy use and offsetting electric bills with solar systems.

I've been working for a week so far and it's been interesting (I'm still kind of man-bush) to say the least, as has everything I've done for the past 7 months. It's all part of the process, like learning how to manage databases, multi task and order office supplies.

Offices have supplies? Since when!? Oh yeah, that was a Vanuatu office. At least this office has free tea, coffee and water. Free tea and coffee! The Vanuatu office had free water but it was hell of the stomach, a far cry from the gecko-floating well-water I was used to on Tongoa. Mmmmm, gecko flavored water.


Oh Paris, with it's small stuffed mice and temporary monuments. Again, no transition.

July 31, 2007

It's been a long time, too long actually. Since getting back a couple months ago I've gotten out of my "travel" routine which used to include lots of emails and frequent blog updates. But it comes with adapting to life over here. Luckily I've been keeping busy looking for jobs, schools and old friends to hang out with. It's funny how people change (or don't change) after I haven't seen them for so long. Some get married, have kids, gain weight, lose hair, gain hair, move on, stay put and do all the little interesting things that they find completely mundane. Of course to me all these "mundane" things are still as novel as ever, although I am starting to take running water for granted (damn). Luckily I still get a thrill out of seeing a gas stove light up.

For all you returning Peace Corps volunteers, don't expect any special treatment from Americans when you get home. I don't know how you're "readjustment" session in the COS conference but it's been pretty accurate for me. "Storian" is non-existent here, unfortunately. Maybe it's the lack of kava, the lack of aelan mommas making bunia, or the lack of fres win but laef i difren lelabet . Either way people don't know where Vanuatu is and spend about 15 seconds being genuinely interested in what you have to say before talking about politics or their dog. Not that I have anything against dogs at all. Oh, and if someone is talking about their dog don't mention that you're eaten dog before. Or that you really liked it. Or that it tastes like pork and chicken. They get all defensive like you're going to take their dog and eat it right in front of them. I never understood that really. I guess it's like being nervous around a cannibal, which doesn't make that much sense to me either.

I just got a cell phone this month and it's pretty cool. It can't get clips from the Daily Show or South Park like my brother's phone can but I can make and receive calls. Unfortunately since I haven't had a phone for so long I still tend to leave it at home, or in a room that I'm not in. I get to participate in my own 50m obstacle course whenever it rings, making a mad dash over furniture and around walls to try to locate it, then have to inevitably dig through a pile of clothes or papers to find it at the bottom. But it keeps me in touch (or on call, however you perceive it). If you want me to go through the next obstacle course, the number's (858) 531-8271. I haven't even started doing text messaging since it still kind of scares me and seems like the least amount of effort one can do to communicate. Then again, it takes so long to input each letter.

Since I spend a lot of time around the house and not wandering museums, dodging molten lava or killing edible animals, I've taken up running again. It's a great way to watch the rabbits running around at the local park, say 'hi' to all the dogs (determine whether or not they'd make good coats) and work on lowering my cholesterol which seemed to spike shortly after I got back home. I guess cooking with all that bacon fat and coconut milk isn't really that good for you after all. Now instead of making decadent, indulgent food I've gone back to what people in the Midwest call "That crazy California food" like tofu stir fry and roasted bell peppers. I didn't even realize how "Californian" I am until I started talking to my friend from Ohio about a certain kind of vanilla soy milk I enjoy with my organic cereal .

Of course amidst all the domestic pandering I've managed to get out and do a few touristy things. I inadvertently started following a band called "Red Pony Clock"(a 13 piece band complete with vibes and accordion), hanging out with an old theater friend (who believes he is Santa Claus) and enjoying all the local haunts of San Diego. I also took a stroll around Balboa Park, one of my favorite places in San Diego, where they have lots of museums and a botanical garden. Ok, so it's not Museumplein but has some works by Dutch painters. I also made it to our famous zoo where I managed to tear myself away from the binturongs (I want one) long enough to see the tigers, okapi and PNG pigeons (which we used to eat in Vanuatu).


The highlight so far has probably been spending time with Amanda, a girl I went to high school with and is now in Peace Corps Vanuatu. She came back for a couple weeks and we got together to practice Bislama and discuss all things Vanuatu: the food, the people, the school system, funerals, weddings (which are just as sad as funerals), other volunteers and the supreme courthouse that was recently burned, it even made it to the national terrorism page. And yes, that's kava we're drinking.

In some kind of anti-denoument, I discovered that my family had kept all the kava I sent home. Needless to say Amanda and I had a few shells and basked in the euphoric apathy that followed. I even made kava bowls out of coconuts I bought at the supermarket. After all my travels looking for kava (and discovering it's illegal in Singapore) it turned out to be right here (and growing at the San Diego County Fair).

How appropriate. I made a gift package for Amanda before she left and I started to get excited about it. I gave her all the things that I could have really used while in Vanuatu like strong plastic bags, instant pudding, magazines, gum and blank CD's. The only thing I was missing was quality dark chocolate in an airtight container but it's better than nothing. And the pudding was chocolate anyway.

I had a big surprise last week after mentioning to my friend that I wanted to go to Comic Con, one of the biggest media events on the west coast. What started off in the 70's as a bunch of nerds hanging out in a hotel basement is now an international affair where new movies are previewed, casts answer questions from fanboys (or fangirls), and people get dressed up in all manner of costumes ranging from simple eye makeup to complete cosplay antics. Anyway, I was asked by one of my acting friends if I wanted to take part in Comic Con by dressing up as an evil clown and terrorize innocent bystanders as part of a viral marketing campaign to promote the new batman movie. Did I want to help out? Heck yes! Following a secretive after-hours meeting and about 100 grams of grease makeup I was ready. But what was I ready for? The people in charge had been so secretive about everything we really didn't know exactly what we would be doing until the day of the event. We got it figured out in time to walk out of the Hyatt dressed up as the Joker's goons, ready to berate the convention goers and hand out clue-filled balloons. We looked like a circus version of the Reservoir Dogs and had a blast, insulting peoples' intelligence, making fun of Jedi's and handing out defaced 1$ bills. The funny thing is that even under our sweaty grease paint and business-casual attire we were some of the less freaky cosplayers present. Staff took lots of pictures, including some of me which were posted on www.whysoserious.com but the website has changed and I'm not longer up there in all my clown glory.

But we all looked like this


Oh hey, look what I found.

Unfortunately we didn't get to go into Comic Con itself since it was sold out and we were working outside but there's always next year. And the year after that. And the year after that and the year . . .

I wish the rest of my time here could be so eventful but unfortunately, we can't all be evil clowns all the time. I mean we can, but then we have to join the circus and learn to juggle.








Ah, Versailles.
No transition, just like the picture.

Wednesday, June 13th

Jesus Christ, has it been a busy two weeks. I swear it has been non-stop since the beginning. In the time it used to take me to schedule a community meeting I've applied for no less than four jobs, gone through all my old clothes, organized all the things I sent home, cooked about fifty times, driven on the freeway, and gotten my hair cut no less than three times. But more on the hair later. First I'd like to talk about my rude awakening to the debacle that is American Culture.

Let's start with the supermarket. Now I'd gotten used to supermarkets during my stay in Amsterdam and overcome my somewhat irrational fear of the multitude of choices. When I came back home I decided to take it nice and slow and do what I used to do in Port Vila: walk down every single aisle and look at every single item for sale. And that's what I did, I walked to the store and looked at each individual food item. It's fucking absurd. Who needs over 25 different brands of peanut butter to go with 36 different kinds of bread? Do we really need milk to be broken down by fat content in .5% gradations? Is someone going to have a stroke over 2% milk when they realized they had not purchased their normal 1.5% milk? I was fine shopping in other countries because I thought "Hey, I'm just passing through, it's not such a big deal. Just keep focused and buy the zucchini." But here it's absolute madness. Everything comes in low fat, low sodium, no sugar, light syrup, chopped, diced, whole, or masticated. And that's just the packaged food which I try to avoid like a rabid third grader with one eye. But at least they have lots and lots of vegetables, which are also huge and equally distracting.

After I exited the Albertson's of Perfidiousness and made sure my body hadn't gone into shock I decided to press my luck and check out the Target next door where my body did indeed go into anaphalactic shock. It's HUGE! All the progress I had made in desensitizing myself to food selection was nothing compared to the selection of everything else in the world for sale. As I was looking at DVD's with actors I didn't recognize I met the mother of a kid I went to high school with. I managed to stammer out a few sentences before getting uncomfortable and saying goodbye. As I walked home I was thankful there isn't a Walmart close to my house. I'm afraid I'll get lost in the store and be found dead weeks later next to the camping goods.

Shortly after my trip to the store and a few other equally traumatic experiences: freeway driving, seeing an old friend leave for Oregon, etc., I finally decided to get a hair cut. So like a complete idiot I made an appointment with a local stylist, thinking that she could cut men's hair that was over 3 inches in length. Unfortunately, American's (unlike Netherlanders) can't cut men's hair and keep it long at the same time. Why? Cause in Holland long hair is normal in guys, in the States it's a pre-existing condition that will deny you medical coverage. Since this woman cut about a centimeter off my hair the first time I went back hoping she would fix it.

I was so wrong. I walked out with a girls haircut but hey, at least I still had long hair. But I can't go walking around with hair like a girl so I got it cut again from someone else and now my hair looks better but is much shorter than I'd like. Whatever, I'll live. Then I saw the date and realized that in a parallel universe I'm actually sharing this time with someone at San Diego Zoo, laughing at the monkeys and recognizing the tropical flowers at the botanical garden in Balboa park. However, in reality I'm actually stressing over jobs and credit cards. And then I think about the stores, the movies, the shiny devices that beep, whir, and have flashing lights; all the things that distract us and allow us to put off dealing with emotions. There's a point to this rant somewhere but I think it got lost between the low-fat and the all-natural-old fashion peanut butter .

Home, I'm finally home.

After a total of 17 hours travel time since Amsterdam I'm finally back in Poway, in the same house that I grew up in but this time a few years older and a little wiser. Since I just got back yesterday in the evening I haven't done anything really typically American yet so no shocking photos of supermarkets or electronic stores. The one thing I will say is that I'd completely forgotten how nice it is to be with my family, not only have they been supportive the whole time I've been away from the States but have given me a week before asking me what I'm doing with the rest of my life (which is more than I can say for some of my other RPCV friends). Of course I feel like a complete retard in my own house, I don't know how to use the microwave anymore, operate the washing machine or the location of the plates in the kitchen. Hopefully this "Where the hell is X" won't last too long.

However, before I left Holland I did take Marije to Paris for a couple days and it was nothing less than amazing. Of course she'd been there a couple times already and knew the city better than I did but we managed to see the Sacre Couer, Eiffel Tower, Nortre Dame, a local market and have a relaxing picnic in the garden in front of the Louvre. But for a few days we just enjoyed the Parisian atmosphere, good espresso (well, at least I did), and better weather than in Holland (which isn't saying too much really). All in all it was just about perfect.

Leaving was tough, as it always is when you leave someone and don't know when you're going to see them again. We had plans to meet up in San Diego where I would show her around the Zoo, Balboa Park, the beach, La Jolla and other sights San Diego is known for. Unfortunately as it sometimes happens, things didn't work out. The distance, time apart and circumstances outside of anyone's control were too much to bear and she won't be coming out to visit . . . ever. It's sad, there's so much I had planned including staying with my family and cooking amazing curry. But life goes on. Luckily I have a supportive family and lots of friends who I've seen in the last week. I also have the future to look forward to which means applying for jobs, finding a new means of transportation, buying necessities and aimlessly wandering the aisles at the local Albertsons where there are no less than 22 different brands of peanut butter. Of course I have more to write about but don't really feel like it now, maybe later when I put up some photos.

After Dresden and Prague I took a train back to Amsterdam to spend some time with Marije and kill some time before Queens Day. Never heard of Queens Day? Me neither, but apparently it's a day where the citizens of Holland celebrate their Queen by dressing up in orange clothes and drinking copious amounts of alcohol, kind of like the Super Bowl but without the game and with orange clothes. Ok so it's not like the Super Bowl at all but I can think of few other dates in the States where it's appropriate to be drunk at 9:30 in the morning. Of course I wasn't one of those people but as I made my way through the Red Light district trying to navigate around many many people, having a few drinks started looking like a very good idea. So I did. The whole event was surreal, orange wig wearing Netherlanders on boats, holding spontaneous dance parties in the streets and beer tents every 10 meters. Every other person I talked to was from out of the country, another testament to the pull of the legendary coffee shops. One of the best things about Queens Day was the constant music. There were stages set up everywhere with DJ's spinning non-stop. I managed to catch a little of DJ Tiesto's set at Museum Plein but it was so incredibly crowded it was impossible to move so I left after only a little while. I ended up getting lost on the way back to the apartment but it let me see all the little road markets that make Queens Day a time to shop for um, antique candle holders and old Abba records. Wooooo Abba. But seriously, if you're in Europe around Queens Day get over to Amsterdam for a wild time.

The following day (not hung over at all) I jumped on a train to Paris, in an attempt to get some culture and end up broke and destitute. Cause that's what Paris will do to you, give you culture in spades and then take all your money, kind of like a mugging. Oh I'm not exaggerating. Have you ever paid $6.80 for a cappuccino? I felt violated. But enough about the costs, Paris is amazing. The first day I went to the George Pompidou building in part because we had a George Pompidou building in Vanuatu. But the one in Vanuatu doesn't really do anything while the one in Paris houses a number of art exhibits, including one on Samuel Beckett which I was this close to seeing. But as I was on limited time I opted to see the permanent Modern Art exhibit as well. I thought "Hey, I haven't been to a modern art exhibit in years". After 5 minutes inside the museum I remembered why I hadn't been to one in so long: it SUCKS! Yeah ok, sure some of it is interesting and in some circles passes for art but the rest, I'm sorry to say, is pretentious bullshit. Maybe I'm not hip enough to appreciate a sculpture of a stag having his way with a woman, or a canvas painted navy blue, or a tree composed solely of red-painted woolen gloves. I'm sure a paper mache monster covered in garbage would look great in the east wing of someone's McMansion but I don't know if it's really art. Maybe I'm too much of a square to "get it" or something olsem. But of all the thousands of exhibits only the ones by Phillipe Stark really earned my respect. Sure he may have sold his soul to Microsoft but his stuff is good.

Outside the George Pompidou there's a large pool with other modern and post-modern sculptures. I saw a collection of brightly colored ones near the back and though I saw a familiar face in Stravinsky Fountain. Holy hell, it was the Sun God! Straight out of UCSD! Ok maybe it's not really the Sun God but damn if it doesn't look almost exactly the same. Could it be that two different people made big Mexican birds on either side of the world at similar times? Nope, it turns out the sculptor of the Sun God, Niki de Saint Phalle, has exhibits in Stravinsky Fountain as well as UCSD. So either this or the Sun God is recycled work. Whatever, it's modern art. Of course I came to Paris for classical art. Luckily I had plans to meet up with Katie, a Vanuatu RPCV and explore Nortre Dame and the Louvre with her.

But before Nortre Dame I paid a visit to the Picasso Museum to see what they were showing, hoping that I would get to see Guernica, Les Demoiselles d'Avignon, or even Gertrude Stein. But noooooo none of them can be in the Paris museum! All I got stuck with were a bunch of mixed media mosaics, a horribly ugly iron statue and some self portraits. I was about to write off the museum altogether (like the George Pompidou) but at the very end something caught my eye. It was in one of the exhibits that showed off some of Picasso's private ancient art collection that inspired cubism. And what was there but a truly amazing kastam sculpture from South Malekula, Vanuatu. I stared agape, and actually asked out loud "What are you doing here?" drawing a look from the security guard. I couldn't believe it, Picasso of all people knew about Vanuatu back when it was New Hebrides. Awesome, suddenly it was all worth it. The craziest part is that I've seen a fair amount of the sculptures coming out of Malekula (even bought some) and have never come across something like this. It's not a death mask because it's too big and is hollow inside. I showed the picture to Katie and she too had never seen something like it. Atink hemi wan kastam samting be kastam i finis finis? Tawi, traen telem smol long samting ia!


I met Katie at the front of Nortre Dame and after exchanging pleasantries we went inside, and saw what is claimed to be the true Crown of Thorns. We looked and looked at the display but didn't see any crown. But there were plenty of other treasures to see, like old clothes. Inside Nortre Dame was quite pretty, but not as spectacular as I expected. Maybe it's because I've seen so many amazing churches including St. Peter's Basilica in Rome but I found the exterior of the Cathedral more interesting than the interior. I mean just look at the exterior, buttresses, gargoyles, a Rose window, it's all so Gothic. Luckily there weren't any Goths around the Cathedral.

The Louvre Museum in crazy, inspiring and totally BSI. And it's HUGE! No, no you don't understand. It has over 35,000 exhibits, 4 floors and houses some of the most important art works in history: the Mona Lisa, Venus de Milo, Winged Victory of Samothrace, Hermaphroditos Asleep, and other works that you never really bothered with in High School. And that's just a sample of the important art works, saying nothing of the Islamic pieces, Spanish, Dutch and other Italian works. The museum is intense, I found myself overwhelmed at times just trying to imagine the scope of the pieces it held. It was so much I went twice. At one point I started trying to imagine the net worth of the exhibits and then how much they were insured for, but I stopped before my head exploded.

I also found a sculpture that really touched me in a place few sculptures can. It's a statue of Minerva from the private d'Orsay collection. I fell in love with her poise and the organic folds of her cloak which looks to be made out of agate. She has a serene yet focused look of contemplation, confident stance and holds her (strangely cute) owl of wisdom. I don't know how long I looked at her, from all sides noticing the broken finger on her right hand. If the ancient Romans did anything right it's their art, even if they did steal if from the Greeks. To me this statue is archetypal and nearly everything I love in classical sculpture.

I have no idea what this statue is. It was in the Greek and Roman sculpture area but the bucket and copper don't seem that old. I personally think it's a woman getting spaghetti dumped on her head. Marije thinks it's a spaghetti, meat balls and petanque balls. I'm willing to meet halfway and call it an ancient documentation of the flying spaghetti monster playing petanque.







That night Katie and I had dinner at a local cafe after getting caught in the rain. Over a bottle of wine and a confusing food order, we caught up on everything: adjusting to western life, health issues, food, Europe, old gossip, new gossip, intimidating supermarkets, relationships, and the long arduous (sometimes intimidating) process of readjustment. Oh did we talk about readjustment. Basically it boils down to that it's impossible for other non-RPCV's to understand what we're going through, which is why it's so important for us Vanuatu people to hang out. It's not that other people don't want to understand, but after 3 years of adjusting to life overseas it will be a long time before I'm really "normal" again, not that I want to be normal anyway. But there are still things I have to get used to . . . like not eating food off of someone else's plate. When I finally get back to the States (May 28th) I'll have to start seriously thinking about going to school again, starting a career and developing some real life goals. Or maybe I'll go back to Vanuatu and husk coconuts for a while, at least there they don't have to worry about Roth IRA's.