That night at the pub, the night before I left for the Seychelles, there was a consensus. I was going to Eden. "Eden," the London cabbie said, since London cabbies have been around a bit and are experts on these things. "That's where you're going, lad. Unsurpassed beauty then, init?" Oh, yeah, just so you know: I don't live in London. I left from my home in Orlando, Florida. But since I was traveling through London, and I'm a sucker for a good pint, I decided to stop over on my way to ... well, Eden. "So, have you ever been?" I asked a pint-clad professor (which pubs are known for, yeah?) sitting at the bar. "Well, no, but a mate of mine went last year and stayed -- just stayed on. Lives there now. Sent me an e-mail and told me he'd found Eden, and could I please put the dog out while he was away. He loved that dog, so it must be a ripping good bit of real estate, then, mustn't it?" It was genuinely hard to argue with such logic. "You know what I like about Eden, mate?" a young punk chirped from the end of the bar. "The serpent. Good stuff that serpent. Made Eden interesting, then, didn't it?" "Yes, indeed." Unsurpassed beauty and the appealing vestige of a wily biblical serpent? Now we're talking Eden.