A little plane arrives to fetch the winners and take them on their overnight trip. On the plane, I think the pig would like some more peanuts. Of course, we all would, but it's not possible, now that the peanut allergy people have ruined it for everyone and subjected us all to those horrid little pretzel twists. Oh, and the pig pees on the plane, which Eliza notes took something away from the experience of the flight. Yeah, I hate it when the person next to me on a plane does that. When they arrive, they travel by van to what Ami calls "the very, very backcountry." Upon their arrival at the village, they are greeted by a whole bunch of folks in what people who watch The Brady Bunch would just call "grass skirts." I'm sure they have another name, considering that that one sounds a little bit like the compound phrase you would teach a gorilla in sign language to signify the concept. The group is then escorted into the village, which Chris likens to "a whole other world." Chris further explains that it's not every day you stroll into someone's town with a pig in your arms, so nobody really knew what to do. I feel the same way any time I cross paths with corporate America. I kind of feel like I have a pig in my arms just by being there. Anyway, the chief comes over to greet them, and Chris hands over the pig. And then, as Eliza explains, the chief gives them a pig in return. So their overall pig quotient has not changed as a result of this transaction. I have to say, that's quite a tradition they have there in Vanuatu, and I wouldn't mind seeing it translated here the next time I go to a dinner party. Go to somebody's house; bring them a bottle of wine; get a bottle of wine. Score! The thing is, though, that the castaways...don't really want a pig. They probably won't be allowed to eat him (again, some more), they certainly don't want to take care of him, and all in all, they're thinking that a pet that reminds them of all the meat they can't have is the last thing they're looking to take back to camp. So as they explain it, they just kind of put the pig down and "forget" about him. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the story of how the Sister Mary Margaret Home for Wayward Pigs was founded.