Today Team
WestEnders set off on their Summer 2017
adventure…reeeeaaally early--as in, the alarm went off at 4:20 a.m. If that
wasn’t shocking enough, we rolled out of the house at 4:50, which has to be
some kind of family record…although
in retrospect, it might have been at least in part due to the fact that the
boys weren’t even truly awake, just blindly following simple orders like “Put
on your shoes” and “Get in the car”. Then on the ride to the airport, suddenly
everyone (except me, it goes without saying) wanted to TALK. Seriously, people?
It’s still dark outside--can we all
just agree to be calm, quiet and mildly
disgruntled for a while?
Fortunately,
at that beastly hour we made it to the airport with plenty of time to spare, so
at least there was no “stress” element to complicate our weary journey. Riley did
have a small bit of excitement in the Security line, as they arbitrarily
assigned him a TSA Pre-Check pass,
allowing him the benefit of leaving his shoes on…and whatnot. In his fragile
low-blood-sugar state, however, he decided to take umbrage with this decision, ranting
that, “They’d better not pick me because they think I’m 12!” Um…nooooo, honey, I don’t think anyone will look at your 5-foot-9
frame--and whiskers--and mistake you for a tween anymore. After that he changed
his mind and milked it for a while, answering every question—whether appropriate
or not—with “Well, you know, I AM TSA Pre-Check.” (Until I whacked him with his
passport enough times to discourage this behavior.)
Anyway, I
would characterize flight #1, a packed plane to Ft. Lauderdale, as smooth (little turbulence), silent (not even a peep from any
munchkins who might have been on board), and sleepy (for the obvious reasons)…with Starbucks (which I’d brought with me). Once we landed and scoped
out the airport, the top priority was (not surprisingly) FOOD, since it was finally
a decent hour to eat. However, we were disappointed to find the terminal pretty
small, offering only what we deemed to be a lame selection of dining options.
Nevertheless, we made do, since we had a hefty layover until commencing the
next leg of our excursion.
Even though
I pointed out that we had now successfully left
home, the boys firmly declared that we weren’t “on vacation” yet, just “traveling”.
(The biggest laugh of this portion of our trip came when I turned to Derek and
asked, “Hey, is it time for you to get up yet?” To which he
laughingly-but-vehemently replied, “NO, it’s NOT!” Sorry, teenager—being an international jet-setter means hauling
your butt out of bed for the cause!)
From there,
we (at last) boarded our next airplane, headed for Belize. Again, the airtime was uneventful…until I looked out the
window when the Captain announced our “final approach” and saw…lots of green
below us. Excuse me, I don’t want to be a bother,
but is there some kind of, you know, “runway-type-thingie”
we’re headed towards? At the last minute, a tiny airport appeared, and we did,
in fact, land on a strip of concrete,
rather than a hiking path, which was
reassuring. We disembarked via a staircase, instead of a tunnel, and were
herded into Customs—which proved to
be the usual delightful experience. Especially because Southwest had given
us misinformation, telling us that only one
form per family was needed…when really they wanted EACH of us to have our
own. So we, and the rest of the people who’d been on our flight, spent some
minutes standing around and filling out the requisite number of papers to
fulfill the regulation.
This was
borne out when we were led outside to our next mode of transportation…a
10-SEATER PROP PLANE, for crying out loud. Holy
guacamole, folks, I’m not sure how I feel about this…not that I had a
choice in the matter, of course. Honestly, though, it was fascinating--once we
got safely in the air--to peer out the windows at the ground, not so very far below. You could
certainly appreciate the terrain from that vantage point—forests and rivers and
the coastline and eventually clusters of buildings that marked the small pocket
of civilization at which we were apparently aiming.
But wait,
we weren’t quite done yet! (Siiiiigh…even though we’d been up for almost 12 hours,
but who was counting? Oh yeah: all of us…)
We had one more piece of the travel puzzle to complete: a 45-minute van ride to the resort. Our driver did his best to make
this interesting, regaling us with facts about Belize, such as “it’s similar in
size to Vermont, with only about
370,000 people” and “they grow lots of oranges,
but export the juice in concentrate form, to prevent spoilage” and “English and
Creole are both spoken, along with Spanish and some Mayan dialects”. (Yes, I
was listening—you never know when there’ll be some kind of, I don’t know…Pop Vacation Quiz? It’s best to be
prepared, I always say…or whatever…)
At long
last (drumroll) we arrived! Whoo hoo! We were greeted with a cold lime-y drink (I have no idea what it
was, but it was delicious) and told that, although the kitchen was officially
closed at that time, they’d make us something anyway, because they didn’t want
their honored guests to starve. Well, I’m liking this place already! After some
super-tasty nachos, we were free to explore the grounds—the pool, the ocean,
the rooftop deck…so much to see! Before we crash
from exhaustion! We wandered around,
checked in with the Adventure Center
to confirm our tours for the week,
and most importantly, stuck our toes in the sand
and (Caribbean) surf.
Now our
last order of “business” for the day is to wander over to dinner, and see what’s
on the menu this evening. Then we’ll most likely go the heck to BED, since we’ve
been moving for a loooooong time, and our Rainforest
and Waterfall Hike leaves at 7 a.m. tomorrow…sooooo, peace out for now from
Belize!
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