like this woman did:

http://www.cosmopolitan.com/lifestyle/a39772/why-i-gave-up-a-95k-job-to-move-to-an-island/

Why I Gave Up a $95,000 Job to Move to an Island and Scoop Ice Cream


There is a chicken in my shower. It's 8:30 a.m., I've just sat down on the toilet to pee. I casually glance around and there it is, drinking some of the residual water puddled on my shower floor. This is not the first creature to make an appearance in my bathroom. Since I moved to the Caribbean, I've had spirited encounters with tarantulas, scorpions, and untold lizards. But the chicken got me thinking.

"How did you get here?" I ask the bird. It blinks unhelpfully back at me. Perhaps a better question is, how did I get here? How did I come to live on a tiny, rustic island of 4,100 people sharing a bathroom with poultry?

It all began four years ago. Back then I was living in Manhattan, a 31-year-old journalist making $95,000 a year. I lived in a lovely (wildlife-free) apartment in the East Village, a bustling neighborhood with every imaginable convenience and so much to entertain. But New York is a competitive city; you have to spend most of your time working to afford to live there. And a downside of living among so many ambitious people is they're often overscheduled. Sometimes I didn't see my closest friends for months at a time. Trying to negotiate a time to meet a friend for drinks was harder than getting into college (and the cocktails about as expensive).

It's ironic to feel lonely on an island of 4 million people, but it seemed I spent my life staring at screens: laptop, cell phone, iPad — hell, even the taxis and elevators had televisions in them. I felt stressed, uninspired, and disconnected.

"I need a vacation." This was a constant refrain in my head. I wasn't living in the moment; I was living for some indeterminate moment in the future when I'd saved enough money and vacation days to take a trip somewhere. If you're constantly thinking you need a vacation, maybe what you really need is a new life. But I was complacent. My life wasn't satisfying, but it was comfortable.

One day I was working on my laptop, finishing some edits on a book I'd just written. I was distracted, wondering what I would do now that the manuscript was finished. While I had several job offers, none of them excited me. I let my hands idle too long and the screensaver, a stock photo of a tropical scene, popped up. Here was something to get excited about. What I wanted — something I'd fantasized about for years, in fact — was to stop living in front of a screen and live in that screen, in the photo on my computer. And why couldn't I? With no professional obligations or boyfriend, I was completely untethered for the first time in my life.

Feeling slightly ridiculous, I posted a message on Facebook saying that I wanted to move to the Caribbean, and asking for suggestions as to where I should go. A friend's sister recommended St. John, the smallest of the U.S. Virgin Islands. Nicknamed "Love City" for its famously friendly locals, it was home to some of the most stunning beaches in the world. I glanced out my window where punishing, chest-high snow drifts were forming on the ground at an alarming rate. On the sidewalks impatient and preoccupied New Yorkers bumped into each other without apology. I immediately began expediting my passport.

It was startlingly simple to dismantle the life I'd spent a decade building: I broke the lease on my apartment, sold my belongings, and bought a one-way plane ticket. The hardest part was convincing myself it was OK to do something for no other reason than to change the narrative of my life.

"You can't just move to a place you've never even visited!" my mom protested.

"Sometimes you just have to leap and the net will appear," I said with more confidence than I felt.

Six weeks later, I stepped off the ferry in St. John. I had no plan, no friends, and no clue how ridiculous I looked, festively ensembled in boat shoes and a dress celebrating the palm tree. Yet I had a strange feeling that everything would unfold as it was supposed to.

My parents did not share this viewpoint. I come from a conservative Southern family with a healthy respect for the American Dream: You worked hard in school, chose an upper-middle-class job with a 401(k) and a good matching plan. So they were pretty taken aback when, upon arriving in St. John, I took a job at the local ice cream parlor.

"But, but ... you went to Yale," they sputtered. "And you're 31 years old!"

Perhaps there was something indulgent and Peter Pan-ish about this new lifestyle. But the truth is, I was happier scooping mint chocolate chip for $10 an hour than I was making almost six figures at my previous corporate job. It was calming to work with my hands. I met new people constantly, talking face-to-face instead of communicating via email and instant messaging. When I closed the shop at the end of the shift, my work was done and my time my own. Besides, I found that not everyone shared my parents' concern. "When I moved here 25 years ago, my dad insisted I was ruining my life," said one of my regular customers when we got to chatting about our lives one day. "Recently he visited and told me, 'You had it right all along. I'm toward the end of my life and looking to retire to someplace like this, and now I'm too old to enjoy it.'"

Cruz Bay, the island's main town, consists of a few winding roads and a handful of open-air bars and restaurants. There are no stoplights on St. John (though we frequently have to stop for the wild donkeys and iguanas and chickens that roam the streets). No chain stores. Limited WiFi. Shoes optional. We drive beat-up Jeeps because no one cares what kind of car you drive. For those without cars, hitchhiking is common; after all, we know almost everyone who lives here. We shower in filtered rainwater collected in cisterns attached to the house. There are no addresses. (Typical directions to someone's house are along the lines of, "If you take a left at the dumpster, I live in the white house at the end of the road with a broken-down dinghy in the yard.") People gather on the beaches at dusk to watch the sunsets together. I see my friends every day. On our days off, we hike the local ruins, dive, or go boating to the nearby British Virgin Islands.

These days, I work as a bartender, a job I pursued simply because it's something I always wanted to try. Sometimes I think back to the question I used to be asked in job interviews: "Where do you see yourself in five years?" That always seemed a depressing notion, to already know what you'd be doing five years in the future. Here it's not unusual for someone to work as a cook on St. John, then move to Thailand for six months to work as a dive instructor, then they will head off to Alaska and work on a fishing boat. Living abroad has exposed me to a different approach to life, one in which you're not expected to settle in one place and do one kind of job. Perhaps some of us are meant to move around every few years, change jobs and live many different micro lives.

That's not to say doubts don't creep in on occasion. Seeing old colleagues and acquaintances building successful careers can make me second-guess my choices. One of my friends from college started a little website called Pinterest. Another just won an Emmy for a hit television show she created.

But I have an island. I live in a charmingly ramshackle one-bedroom apartment on a hillside overlooking the sea.

Which brings us back to the chicken in my shower watching me pee. How did it get there? My best guess: It was tottering around the woods outside, accidentally flew onto my second-story balcony, and wandered into my apartment through the sliding-glass door, which I usually leave open to enjoy the breeze.

Smiling, I shoo out the wayward bird. Then I pause for a moment, transfixed by the view framed by my open sliding glass door. Sunlight sparkles on the water. Sailboats bob companionably in the distance. The scene is remarkably similar to the stock photo that was my screensaver four years ago. How different my life was then.

There's a quote by author J.R.R. Tolkien that pops up a lot on T-shirts and bumper stickers sold around town: "Not all those who wander are lost."

Lately I've been mulling moving somewhere entirely opposite of here. Europe, perhaps? There are so many places to go! It fills me with a sort of wild happiness. Who knows where I'll end up? And what a marvelous thing that is — not knowing.

Noelle is the author of the memoir My Year With Eleanor.

fuck you.

Yeah the weather is great and the life is easier blah blah blah.

But whenever I spend any extended amount of time their with local family and friends it begins to feel rather quickly just like the small town in VA that I left because there wasn't alot to do for a young person.

A time may come where all i want to do is read, exercise, fish, cook, drink and play cards, but I am not there yet.




>like this woman did:
>
>http://www.cosmopolitan.com/lifestyle/a39772/why-i-gave-up-a-95k-job-to-move-to-an-island/
>
>Why I Gave Up a $95,000 Job to Move to an Island and Scoop Ice
>Cream
>
>
>There is a chicken in my shower. It's 8:30 a.m., I've just sat
>down on the toilet to pee. I casually glance around and there
>it is, drinking some of the residual water puddled on my
>shower floor. This is not the first creature to make an
>appearance in my bathroom. Since I moved to the Caribbean,
>I've had spirited encounters with tarantulas, scorpions, and
>untold lizards. But the chicken got me thinking.
>
>"How did you get here?" I ask the bird. It blinks unhelpfully
>back at me. Perhaps a better question is, how did I get here?
>How did I come to live on a tiny, rustic island of 4,100
>people sharing a bathroom with poultry?
>
>It all began four years ago. Back then I was living in
>Manhattan, a 31-year-old journalist making $95,000 a year. I
>lived in a lovely (wildlife-free) apartment in the East
>Village, a bustling neighborhood with every imaginable
>convenience and so much to entertain. But New York is a
>competitive city; you have to spend most of your time working
>to afford to live there. And a downside of living among so
>many ambitious people is they're often overscheduled.
>Sometimes I didn't see my closest friends for months at a
>time. Trying to negotiate a time to meet a friend for drinks
>was harder than getting into college (and the cocktails about
>as expensive).
>
>It's ironic to feel lonely on an island of 4 million people,
>but it seemed I spent my life staring at screens: laptop, cell
>phone, iPad — hell, even the taxis and elevators had
>televisions in them. I felt stressed, uninspired, and
>disconnected.
>
>"I need a vacation." This was a constant refrain in my head. I
>wasn't living in the moment; I was living for some
>indeterminate moment in the future when I'd saved enough money
>and vacation days to take a trip somewhere. If you're
>constantly thinking you need a vacation, maybe what you really
>need is a new life. But I was complacent. My life wasn't
>satisfying, but it was comfortable.
>
>One day I was working on my laptop, finishing some edits on a
>book I'd just written. I was distracted, wondering what I
>would do now that the manuscript was finished. While I had
>several job offers, none of them excited me. I let my hands
>idle too long and the screensaver, a stock photo of a tropical
>scene, popped up. Here was something to get excited about.
>What I wanted — something I'd fantasized about for years, in
>fact — was to stop living in front of a screen and live in
>that screen, in the photo on my computer. And why couldn't I?
>With no professional obligations or boyfriend, I was
>completely untethered for the first time in my life.
>
>Feeling slightly ridiculous, I posted a message on Facebook
>saying that I wanted to move to the Caribbean, and asking for
>suggestions as to where I should go. A friend's sister
>recommended St. John, the smallest of the U.S. Virgin Islands.
>Nicknamed "Love City" for its famously friendly locals, it was
>home to some of the most stunning beaches in the world. I
>glanced out my window where punishing, chest-high snow drifts
>were forming on the ground at an alarming rate. On the
>sidewalks impatient and preoccupied New Yorkers bumped into
>each other without apology. I immediately began expediting my
>passport.
>
>It was startlingly simple to dismantle the life I'd spent a
>decade building: I broke the lease on my apartment, sold my
>belongings, and bought a one-way plane ticket. The hardest
>part was convincing myself it was OK to do something for no
>other reason than to change the narrative of my life.
>
>"You can't just move to a place you've never even visited!" my
>mom protested.
>
>"Sometimes you just have to leap and the net will appear," I
>said with more confidence than I felt.
>
>Six weeks later, I stepped off the ferry in St. John. I had no
>plan, no friends, and no clue how ridiculous I looked,
>festively ensembled in boat shoes and a dress celebrating the
>palm tree. Yet I had a strange feeling that everything would
>unfold as it was supposed to.
>
>My parents did not share this viewpoint. I come from a
>conservative Southern family with a healthy respect for the
>American Dream: You worked hard in school, chose an
>upper-middle-class job with a 401(k) and a good matching plan.
>So they were pretty taken aback when, upon arriving in St.
>John, I took a job at the local ice cream parlor.
>
>"But, but ... you went to Yale," they sputtered. "And you're
>31 years old!"
>
>Perhaps there was something indulgent and Peter Pan-ish about
>this new lifestyle. But the truth is, I was happier scooping
>mint chocolate chip for $10 an hour than I was making almost
>six figures at my previous corporate job. It was calming to
>work with my hands. I met new people constantly, talking
>face-to-face instead of communicating via email and instant
>messaging. When I closed the shop at the end of the shift, my
>work was done and my time my own. Besides, I found that not
>everyone shared my parents' concern. "When I moved here 25
>years ago, my dad insisted I was ruining my life," said one of
>my regular customers when we got to chatting about our lives
>one day. "Recently he visited and told me, 'You had it right
>all along. I'm toward the end of my life and looking to retire
>to someplace like this, and now I'm too old to enjoy it.'"
>
>Cruz Bay, the island's main town, consists of a few winding
>roads and a handful of open-air bars and restaurants. There
>are no stoplights on St. John (though we frequently have to
>stop for the wild donkeys and iguanas and chickens that roam
>the streets). No chain stores. Limited WiFi. Shoes optional.
>We drive beat-up Jeeps because no one cares what kind of car
>you drive. For those without cars, hitchhiking is common;
>after all, we know almost everyone who lives here. We shower
>in filtered rainwater collected in cisterns attached to the
>house. There are no addresses. (Typical directions to
>someone's house are along the lines of, "If you take a left at
>the dumpster, I live in the white house at the end of the road
>with a broken-down dinghy in the yard.") People gather on the
>beaches at dusk to watch the sunsets together. I see my
>friends every day. On our days off, we hike the local ruins,
>dive, or go boating to the nearby British Virgin Islands.
>
>These days, I work as a bartender, a job I pursued simply
>because it's something I always wanted to try. Sometimes I
>think back to the question I used to be asked in job
>interviews: "Where do you see yourself in five years?" That
>always seemed a depressing notion, to already know what you'd
>be doing five years in the future. Here it's not unusual for
>someone to work as a cook on St. John, then move to Thailand
>for six months to work as a dive instructor, then they will
>head off to Alaska and work on a fishing boat. Living abroad
>has exposed me to a different approach to life, one in which
>you're not expected to settle in one place and do one kind of
>job. Perhaps some of us are meant to move around every few
>years, change jobs and live many different micro lives.
>
>That's not to say doubts don't creep in on occasion. Seeing
>old colleagues and acquaintances building successful careers
>can make me second-guess my choices. One of my friends from
>college started a little website called Pinterest. Another
>just won an Emmy for a hit television show she created.
>
>But I have an island. I live in a charmingly ramshackle
>one-bedroom apartment on a hillside overlooking the sea.
>
>Which brings us back to the chicken in my shower watching me
>pee. How did it get there? My best guess: It was tottering
>around the woods outside, accidentally flew onto my
>second-story balcony, and wandered into my apartment through
>the sliding-glass door, which I usually leave open to enjoy
>the breeze.
>
>Smiling, I shoo out the wayward bird. Then I pause for a
>moment, transfixed by the view framed by my open sliding glass
>door. Sunlight sparkles on the water. Sailboats bob
>companionably in the distance. The scene is remarkably similar
>to the stock photo that was my screensaver four years ago. How
>different my life was then.
>
>There's a quote by author J.R.R. Tolkien that pops up a lot on
>T-shirts and bumper stickers sold around town: "Not all those
>who wander are lost."
>
>Lately I've been mulling moving somewhere entirely opposite of
>here. Europe, perhaps? There are so many places to go! It
>fills me with a sort of wild happiness. Who knows where I'll
>end up? And what a marvelous thing that is — not knowing.
>
>Noelle is the author of the memoir My Year With Eleanor.


**********
"Everyone has a plan until you punch them in the face. Then they don't have a plan anymore." (c) Mike Tyson


"One of the most important things in life is what Judge Learned Hand described as 'that ever-gnawing inner doubt as to whether you're

The guy I spoke with who rents jet skis on Grand Cayman flies to another island or to Miami when he's bored. I'm about that life.

fuck you.

Stay here to make bread and go down there when the winter is too much and need a change of pace?



**********
"Everyone has a plan until you punch them in the face. Then they don't have a plan anymore." (c) Mike Tyson


"One of the most important things in life is what Judge Learned Hand described as 'that ever-gnawing inner doubt as to whether you're

I'm talking about what I want. I didn't ask a question.

fuck you.

>I'm talking about what I want. I didn't ask a question.


**********
"Everyone has a plan until you punch them in the face. Then they don't have a plan anymore." (c) Mike Tyson


"One of the most important things in life is what Judge Learned Hand described as 'that ever-gnawing inner doubt as to whether you're

I want to move to one of the USVI.

fuck you.

That is the same pic that comes up when you google "care free" and "white privilege".

*flips hair*

________________________________________________
R.I.P. Soulgyal <3
SUPA NERD LLC.
Knowledge Meets Nature
Musica Negra
#13irteen

No cool

when I originally read the headline.

it just must be nice to be able to just drop everything and have the resources to relocate yourself, with no obligations to friends and fam who need your help, and totally care free to whether you will be accepted in the part of the world in which you decide to set up shop.

it is like literally the embodiment of care free white privilege. And I don't say that to hate on her or her story at all. Just must be nice.

________________________________________________
R.I.P. Soulgyal <3
SUPA NERD LLC.
Knowledge Meets Nature
Musica Negra
#13irteen

Any time one of these type of articles where it starts off "I left my $100000 job in Manhattan (always from NY or Cali)", and especially when it's some becky or bobby in the pic, I click x. I already can't relate from the jump, and I'm sure the majority of Americans can't. But it feeds fantasies which feeds magazines' pockets.

I'm content w/ lifehacks and articles about innovative off-the-grid inventors instead.

------------------
reflect.

and a mortgage tying them down.

i don't have any of that going on. which is a large part of what makes that life so attractive for me.

fuck you.

------------------
reflect.

this job and try something new

we keep it moving,

stx would be best. but whatever.

i ain't ready for that life, but when i am i'll be moving to st. croix. hopefully by then the government won't be as corrupt and it'll be like old times when i lived there before.

now go runtelldat, ho.

fuck you.

now go runtelldat, ho.

fuck you.

Halfway thinking about it. We have friends in the Caymans that went through honeymoon>absolute boredom>way-of-life phase over three years now, but they were a bit hamstrung by visas and such for the wife.
I'm not sure I could handle that amount of constant warm weather, but it's an interesting proposition.

Edit: Have to also say that I am really leery about some of the creature comforts of home not being available there, namely decent beer.

i would assume a teacher, but i'm guessing.

stx is a great island. but is plagued by gov't corruption, and horrible hospital (most folks either go to stt or fly to the states if something is medically wrong) and it's just trying to rebound from on of the major businesses leaving island (HESS)

don't get me wrong, everywhere has it's issues - but there are also lots of positives.

lol @ decent beer. you'd just have to pay a lot more for it if they have it.

>Halfway thinking about it. We have friends in the Caymans
>that went through honeymoon>absolute boredom>way-of-life phase
>over three years now, but they were a bit hamstrung by visas
>and such for the wife.
>I'm not sure I could handle that amount of constant warm
>weather, but it's an interesting proposition.
>
>Edit: Have to also say that I am really leery about some of
>the creature comforts of home not being available there,
>namely decent beer.

now go runtelldat, ho.

So, there is that whole "offshore" thing that likely makes whatever company it's for (they haven't said yet) a bit shady, but it may be worth the role of the dice for a mid-career working vacation if nothing else.

let me know what you decide!

now go runtelldat, ho.

ever since I went there on a cruise a few months back.
______________________________
http://i.imgur.com/81XSukd.jpg <-- Happy trails

We love it down there.

Funny thing is we've been contemplating a trip to US-VI for a minute. Either there or the Marshall Islands is likely going to be our next trip.


---------------------------

"Where was the peace when we were getting shot? Where's the peace when we were getting laid out?
Where is the peace when we are in the back of ambulances? Where is the peace then?
They don't want to call for peace then.

the key to happiness is not being rich;
it's doing something arduous and
creating something of value and then
being able to reflect on the fruits of your labor

now go runtelldat, ho.

the key to happiness is not being rich;
it's doing something arduous and
creating something of value and then
being able to reflect on the fruits of your labor

we keep it moving,

bali is beautiful tho


but ill never set foot there again

#bali9

-------------------
I wanna go to where the martyrs went
the brown figures on the walls of my apart-a-ment...

If I didn't have student loans to pay back, I'd love to be a teacher in Jamaica and teach middle school literature. I think about it all the time.

New York is wearing on me. Everywhere is.

_______________________________
Maintain chill at all times.

But I'd go anyway maybe.

fuck you.

move to an island and get a job as a janitor or some basic shit and just be a beach bum and join a reggae band and play guitar every nite while drinking beers and ritas. i think i could make that shit work lol

****************
TBH the fact that you're even a mod here fits squarely within Jag's narrative of OK-sanctioned aggression, bullying, and toxicity. *shrug*

Maybe not for there specifically. But someplace in the tropics. My cousins in Bermuda have extended an open invite I've yet to accept. Maybe I've been doing it wrong all along...

__________________________

Just tryna do the best that I can with what it is I have...

but beach life can get boring too

****************
TBH the fact that you're even a mod here fits squarely within Jag's narrative of OK-sanctioned aggression, bullying, and toxicity. *shrug*

he was basically a bum for a year. Said he did odd jobs here and there but for the most part he was a bum. Said it was the best time of his life though.

---------------------------

"Where was the peace when we were getting shot? Where's the peace when we were getting laid out?
Where is the peace when we are in the back of ambulances? Where is the peace then?
They don't want to call for peace then.

but the distance was the killer
there's no way our families would be able to visit
also, working for me would be a real challenge

i did like living there for the year though. there are some annoyances to living on a small island but the quality of life was much better than here in the U.S. However, we had the benefit of having U.S. currency. things were inexpensive for us, but for the avg person, shit can be pricy.

He moved there from the States over a decade ago, I believe. He was military, but is now a mechanic.

Dude loves it. I have a feeling he will never leave. He met some other like-minded expats there, too.

edit: I should say I visited for a week a few years back, and I get the appeal. There would definitely be lifestyle changes, but I think I could handle them all after a few months.

I figured this on my trips to see relatives in Jamaica when I was 7 and 8 respectively.

Rest In Peace, Bad News Brown

but temperate sun all year around?
yes

santa monica is awesome


~~~~
When you are born, you cry, and the world rejoices. Live so that when you die, you rejoice, and the world cries.
~~~~
You cannot hate people for their own good.

beach town, plenty of my ppls (& our food)

and most importantly...a beach town without an overwhelming amount of tourists.

-------------------
I wanna go to where the martyrs went
the brown figures on the walls of my apart-a-ment...

still regret that i turned down a job to work there
(well, not regret... but, i shouldve gone for at least a year)

.
http://perspectivesudans.blogspot.com/
i myself would never want to be god,or even like god.Because god got all these human beings on this planet and i most certainly would not want to be responsible for them, or even have the disgrace that i made them.

the twelve apostoles/table mountain facing the ocean is just ridic but it seems really expensive?

i always thought durban was the cheaper between the two...especially for housing.

-------------------
I wanna go to where the martyrs went
the brown figures on the walls of my apart-a-ment...

I'm lying of course

didn't make it to hong kong when i had a friend there
didn't make it to mauritius
*sigh*

i'm not a good traveller in general
~~~~
When you are born, you cry, and the world rejoices. Live so that when you die, you rejoice, and the world cries.
~~~~
You cannot hate people for their own good.

Rest In Peace, Bad News Brown

.
http://perspectivesudans.blogspot.com/
i myself would never want to be god,or even like god.Because god got all these human beings on this planet and i most certainly would not want to be responsible for them, or even have the disgrace that i made them.

i never felt unsafe and we were out at all hours of the night.

-------------------
I wanna go to where the martyrs went
the brown figures on the walls of my apart-a-ment...

wrong post smh

-------------------
I wanna go to where the martyrs went
the brown figures on the walls of my apart-a-ment...

DC natives, who absolutely hate snow and winter in general. We are out by 2025!

Let yall heffas freeze.

~"You are your own best thing" (c) Paul D in BELOVED

but I know I never will

http://www.youtube.com/user/gumzization
twitter: @BrosefMalone

.

if everyone who plans to move out of the US also hates the idea of migrants wanting to move in the US or anywhere else. It sounds like a loaded question, but it's not; I just want to know.

------------------
reflect.

but i know the US Virgin Islands are w/in the USA.

fuck you.

I've lived in isolated places in my life (Misawa, Japan and Anchorage, AK) and it's fun as hell the first year. By year three you're ready to pull your hair out from boredom. I been to St Thomas three times and I love it but i couldn't live there. StT is only 32 sq. mi. and there's only so many times I can see my man Lubin Richards in one week and act like i have some new shit to talk about. When you meet someone from the mainland down there they automatically tell you how they got there because that's the most asked question. I made that mistake once. Dude said he was bored as hell because he was there for 8 years and he couldn't go 10 feet without knowing someone. So I'll just stick to visiting for days at a time.

but especially if you really want to do it. take the leap...not just for you, but for all of us that are too scared to

d

dis iz bi-ship (c) prosecutor on the wyclef shit

And you will know MY JACKET IS GOLD when I lay my vengeance upon thee.

fuck you.

And you will know MY JACKET IS GOLD when I lay my vengeance upon thee.

I thought about it but to me I like living a good life day to day and then living a *great* life part of the year. Even doing it that way sometimes I feel like I'm over-entertained, over-sexed, over-pleasured. But I get over that pretty quickly!

And you will know MY JACKET IS GOLD when I lay my vengeance upon thee.

On the one hand, we've got enough equity in the house to cash out and live with a nice buffer.

Having family still living in the Fiji islands I have his inherent worry about how exposed you are if a cyclone hits, as opposed to a larger society that maybe has a wider range of disaster recovery resources at its disposal.

Just IMO though.

So not the best but better than most.

fuck you.