WHAM! Back to Reality:Flying back to the states! We got to ride in air conditioning, with amazingly comfortable seats that
reclined! We were given FREE drinks and we were surrounded by luxury. So what did Greg and I do? Why look at sky mall for the first 30 minutes of course, eagerly elbowing each other to show the latest invention we'd missed. When we got to Miami we tortured ourselves for 45 minutes. We walked around to all the food vendors and then back to each again. we couldn't decide what our first American food should be. Also, we kept converting everything to Belizean dollars and there is just no way we were going to pay 40 BZE dollars for a meal. So we split a tuna salad wrap and a carton of milk. I was feeling a little overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle and announcements and golf carts...inside. We found two seats farthest away from anyone and huddled by ourselves scarfing down our food like refugees...mumbling every now and again about how new and big our new world was. Everyone seemed to be in a huge hurry, I saw a very old man get grabbed and shoved by a police man. His offense? Not speaking English at customs. I know a few months ago all this was normal and I would have been running to make sure I got to my gate an hour early just like the rest of them. But we're on Belizean time now, and that's hard to shake.
More buildings than all of Belize
We had a 9 hour layover. What does one do for 9 hours and with no money? Greg and I unapologetically stood in a airport gift shop reading magazines for close to an hour. We walked around, we talked about how we were actually in the states again, and we talked to other people who had been in the Peace Corps (5 total). Finally, our plane to Charlotte began to board. We had a very hilarious flight attendant. While she was giving out drinks she pulled up to our row and instead of saying anything, looks around with a disgusted look on her face. She then looks at me. I (not knowing what to do) make the same disgusted face back and also look around. Does she smell something, is she appalled at the Euro boys behind us who have wedged their stinky feet through our arm rest in their sleep? I don't know. This went on for quite some time, until abruptly she said, "Care for a drink?" I quickly ordered my milk as she resumed her strange face scanning the people around me with aquisitory glances. Was she trying to remember who ordered the Peanut M&Ms? Did she misplace a valuable and now we were all suspects? Who knows. I was left amazed that I could still be awkward in America. I mistakenly thought after all the strange situations I'd encountered in Belize that I would some how be immune to them here...you know since we all speak English (and I am no longer the only giant white girl). Apparently you can take the giant white gyal out of Belize but you can't take the awkward out of the gyal. So, back to the stewardess...as we're taxiing to the terminal she gets on the intercom, "Stairs." she says. The passengers start to look around and she continues, "Stairs, stairs, I am sorry but you will have to use stairs to exit this plane, so sorry ladies and gentleman." I like her.
We are welcomed by a very awake and happy mummy and sister (even though it was close to 1 in the morning) and we went to my sister's new place where we ate fresh apple pie and had a glass of milk... ahhhh the America of my dreams.
Fresh apple pie!
The real deal...portions out the window this is what I call a breakfast!On the way to Cary to spend Easter with my In-laws and my nephew I heard an interesting thing on NPR. There is a non profit named, 'Playworks' that goes out to schools and teaches kids the basics of childhood games. Apparently kids are no longer fluent in the 'forgotten language' of play. This struck a cord for me because as a first grade assistant it was part of my job to do 'teacher led play' for the first 15 minutes of their 30 minute recess. I took this job seriously making a note card role-a-dex with a pipe cleaner and after I wrote down the 10 or so games we used to play in the cul-de-sac (capture the flag, spud, 500, freeze tag, kick the can, pickle, etc) I found myself researching other play ground games in my free time. I had been appalled through my years teaching and assisting at the general absence of play knowledge and when the county said we had to do teacher led games I said, "OKAY!". The kids (much to my surprise) loved playing the games, and would often complain when I would freeze and scream 'FREEEEEEEE.' I knew exactly what this lady was talking about.
Kids today don't know how to make up rules, how to self elect 'leaders' and self police. We weren't born knowing how to do this. It took every summer since we could walk. It took us getting our feelings hurt, knees scraped, and the occasional goose egg (like when I learned the hard way not to stand too close to the batter). We learned that too many rules were no fun but that no rules were even more no fun. Perhaps that's why Belize suits me well. The kids speak that forgotten language,which is fitting since they also speak the almost forgotten language of Ketchi. I am in love with a dying way of life. I spend a lot of time worrying who my hippie children will play in the streets with. Perhaps I'll just have 15 so they can all play together?
Sorry it's sideways...but this was some of the gang from the old days (I'm second from the left)Easter Time!
