I burunti your Fendi bag

I just finished reading The Sex Life of Cannibals, which was oddly not very much about sex lives and cannibals. What it was about was the author's two years on a remote atoll in Kiribati in the south Pacific with his girlfriend. I've always fantasized about visiting those end-of-the-earth places, the tiny dots on maps that look impossible to get to. (My desire is also enhanced due to our failed Bora Bora trip.) But Kiribati is no Hawaii. Picture Hawaii with no greenery, elevation, or island breezes. His diet consisted of fish and beweeviled rice, with a few expired cans of chicken curry. I won't ruin all the surprises, in case you read it, but one of my favorite parts is when he describes this custom called burunti (OK, I don't have my book with me, so that's probably misspelled). But the custom is that anyone can request something of someone else and they have to give it to them. (I.e. I burunti your fishing pole). Anyway, it was a fascinating read, and again made me ponder whether we will ever give it all up and live really simply somewhere, or continue along our consumer-driven path. The odd thing is like the couple in the book, I think we'll float back and forth between the two worlds. The couple moved back to D.C. and spent some crazy years flinging money around, then moved to Fiji and returned to the simple life (although not quite as terribly simple as their life on Kiribati was).