So what do you do when your iPod has waved goodbye to you, your Sony cyber shot began showing signs of strain back in Hawaii and your phone’s screen has just given up the ghost? Take it as a sign. A sign telling you to pack it all up, say “ciao” to the so-called real world and strand yourself on a deserted island. Make like the economist Mark Boyle who turned moneyless environmentalist, sold everything and lives at one with nature in his caravan.
I must say this island thing seems more appealing to me with each extra minute I spend driving behind slow people on the way to work and yet another annoying phone call in the office. Ok, maybe I couldn’t do totally deserted as man is not meant to live alone and I do love people, but just an island then. I could walk to the palm tree next door to me and make conversation about how beautifully the banana trees we planted are growing. And meander back to my hammock to catch an afternoon snooze before heading out to catch fish for dinner. Well, I’d have to brush up on my hunting skills or leave that to the man and make baskets and jewelry with bamboo to barter instead.
When the economist realized that we are meant for more than spending our lives making as much money as possible, but actually trying to interact with each other as people; he moved into a caravan and found he was much happier. He was not rushing to earn and spend needlessly and instead of being a slave to the “plug and play” lazy syndrome, he spends his time chopping wood for the fire, showering outdoors and using a compost loo.
His choice begs the question: Could you live without money? What would be most difficult thing for you to give up and would you want an alternative for cash? I reckon I would happily do the island thing as long as I still had variety. I am definitely a child of choice. One of the things I actually appreciate about the city is the fact that I can go to different neighbourhoods with their own vibes, eat at a different restaurant each week if I wished and walk in various beautiful natural areas without ever getting bored.
So if I could find many varieties of palm fronds and leaves for my wardrobe and a couple of huts serving each plethora of dishes, I’m all in. Add a couple of wild animals to braai, fresh fruits and vegetables to pluck off trees and I’ll even grow my own herbs. But try and take my laptop from me and I’ll get violent. Heaven alone knows where I’ll plug it, but I sometimes I wonder if I could really let go of the all the information and interaction that the World Wide Web provides. How would I be able to Skype the incredible friends I have across the globe or see Facebook pics of a wedding I wasn’t able to attend in person? And more importantly writers don’t only write for their health and happiness, but in the hopes that others can read their work, journey “with” them and gain something from it all. Hence I would need a laptop and wireless capabilities to share my travels with you all.
So bring on the outdoor showers, a community to barter and share with, my man and my laptop on an island and I will prepare for bliss and stress free living.
Ps: all the people driving big expensive SUV’s along the Atlantic seaboard-Even though your Landrover wasn’t built for speed, this does not mean you should drive at 30km when I’m trying to get to work. You form a large part of my motivation for island living