When in Palau, do as that Palauvians?

Alan Jackson sings a song called, "Gone Country." I think I need a song called "Gone Native." No, I am not running around in a loin cloth, we haven't gone THAT far, yet. But I am wearing linen, plaid burmuda shorts that I haven't washed since the last time I wore them on Guam (don't get me started on the laundry issue) and my chaco sandals, haven't shaved my legs in over a week, haven't worn a stitch of makeup in over 10 days, have remnants of a sunburn that I got yesterday on the boat back from Peleliu (so it almost looks like I have a tan), only used hand sanitizer twice in the last three days (after crawling around caves, so it was a little necessary), and eat raw crab that I catch with a makeshift spear I've created with native wood and coral. Just kidding about that last part. Seriously, though. I won't recognize me when I arrive in Nashville. Neither will my friends. I may have to hold up a sign at the airport with my name on it like limo drivers do...