I didn't even go to bed last night. I took a packing break and a nap at some point between 2 and 2:30 am; we left for the airport at 3. (And yes, that was THREE TO THE A TO THE M.) We got on a plane. Two planes. However many planes. I put "writer" as my occupation on my customs form and the officer was all, "SO WHAT DO YOU WRITE, AMY STORCH?" And I was all, "Uhhhhhummmmonlineparentingcolumns?" He let me into the country. Some guy tried to hustle an iPhone from my four-year-old. We drove across Jamaica and saw orange groves and burning sugar cane and poverty and cook shacks and beautiful children in their spotless school uniforms. We stopped at a roadside stand and ate the most incredible jerk chicken I have ever tasted while talking with kind people who were easy to talk to. Ezra also ate a ridiculous amount of that chicken, then gnawed on a drumstick before giving up and just dipping his hands in the hot sauce and licking it straight off his fingers. Noah saw a rooster. He is still talking about that unbelievable, real-life, amazing, cock-a-doo-ing-damn rooster.
We are indeed here in Bluefields, and oh, but I am so tired. I will leave you with some photos, and a promise to post again tomorrow and the day after that and so on and so forth until we go home OH GOD THEY ARE GOING TO MAKE US GO HOME NOOOO.
Call me an optimist, but I think this is going to be a pretty good week.