I’d come in search of capital-P, Paradise. Not a unique mission, but I needed to know if Paul Gauguin’s Paradise still existed – the one with the flowering trees glistening with recent rain, the beautiful women carrying baskets of fruit, the smiling tigers. And if it did still exist, why didn’t people just move there? Was it lack of ambition or too much ambition that kept them away? Or was life simply too hard – or too easy – on a place like Pig? I didn’t know. But I had a hunch that an ideal life is not something you just back into. An ideal life would require making some arrangements.