We left Vancouver Jan 31st, 2012.
It was a crazy-long trip. The plane was late into Toronto and ever later leaving, adding hours upon hours on a stationary plane. There was a lot of time to sit and think about how long we'd been sitting. There was time to get twisted and to go a little mad. These pretzels aren't working. Where's the foam on my headphone? I can't hear in my ear. What? What the hell?
While we were scratching at the exits, the kids were doing great. They slept most of the 24-hour journey. They played with games and coloured straws and chatted with our Chilian neighbors and said "Hi" and "Hola" to almost everyone on the plane.
There was one major tantrum in the Santiago airport, but other than that they were great little travellers.
Camilla met us in BA, but like everyone so far spoke less English than we spoke Spanish so we blundered through with gestures and cryptic strings of un-conjugated verbs and French, sorta French.
The moment we arrived at our apartment, a wicked lightening storm began, with relentless rain. It was a massive storm. 30 traffic lights went down in the city that night.
I hadn't slept at all. I was sick. Maria didn't rest much either. We were exhausted. When we hit our place, we got back that twitching look that only parents of newborn twins can know. We circled the bed slowly, like survivors on an island watching their rations disappear.
It all worked out though. In the end, we took shifts until the kids fell asleep and then crashed until morning.
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