I can't quite believe it.
Ten days ago, I was flying back to Japan from North America. Since then, we've unpacked our suitcases, fought off jet lag, taken a 1000 KM visa-related day trip to Tokyo, then packed up boxes, purged our closets, emptied our house, sent our belongings on a journey down the Pacific, and bid farewell to the city in which our family was born.
We flew across the equator, and here were are now, all three of us in Jakarta, where exploits untold and adventure unborn are waiting.
There's so much to say about this hurly-burly maelstrom that has been my life for the past couple of weeks. I'd love to tell you about how my girl has been such a champ; my mixed feelings on leaving Japan; questions about parenting though transition; the amazing welcome we've received in Indonesia. I want to write about how the weather is perfect, the crushing humidity I feared, well, we left that behind in Japan.
I want to tell you about chicken satay, and things wrapped in banana leaves, and horns, and scooters, and traffic, and Ramadan, and fruit unfamiliar and sweet. I want to write about how people smile and wave, and make googoly-eyed faces at my girl and tap and tap her on the cheek I want to tell you how I'm terrified, and exhilarated, and so beyond excited to be here.
The stories will come, but for now, I'm cocooning myself in the quiet of our hotel room, hunkering down and resting with my family. We're here, we're happy, and I can't wait to tell you more.