Don't Stop Belize-ing: Part 1
It has not escaped me that I have so far failed to update you, faithful reader, on my winter break Central American extravaganza. Since returning, the real world has rather rudely made its presence known, and I've not really had much time to think about the rather daunting number of photos I took, or the somewhat impossible task of relating accurately what happened while I was away. Here goes anyway. I woke up really early. Painfully early, after not having actually achieved any modicum of deep sleep. I finished packing, drank a cup of coffee (little did I know it was going to be my last cup of real coffee for nearly two weeks) and Dad drove me to the airport in the cold, pitch-black predawn. I waited in the longest security line ever witnessed at Tulsa International (by me, anyway). Three people, on seeing my passport, asked me if I was going to a mission trip. Because clearly anyone who would deign to go to another country must also be proselytizing. Is there anything more co...