We lost Thursday somewhere over the Pacific. We left San Francisco Wednesday night and arrived in New Zealand Friday morning, passing the International Date Line in between. I told the boys we experienced a blip in the space-time continuum, but they didn’t get the reference. It’s hard to wrap your head around the idea of time.

We seemed to have travelled back in time as well. The taxis in Tonga are from a previous decade with seat belts optional, roll up window handles, worn through shag carpeting, and cardboard air fresheners dangling from the rearview mirror. We stayed in what could affectionately be called a youth hostel last night, only I’m not that young anymore. Wifi is still in the precious early stages, where you pay by the megabyte and the signal only works in the hotel lobby. How quickly you start to hoard your megabytes to quickly check a flight status, download your email and then jump back off. You lie to your children, telling them there is no Internet access so they don’t waste your time.

We’ve had to pause time. Our flight to the island of Vava’u where the boat is waiting has been cancelled the last two days because of a torrential downpour. The islands close down on Sunday, with no domestic flights in or out. So we’re marooned on the island of Tongatapu while we wait out the rain.

This time out might not be such a bad thing. How often do you get to explore a kingdom with a palace? The Tonga people are mellow and friendly. Our taxi driver appointed herself as our local tour guide and travel agent.

I’m still slowing down and from the frantic end the school year race, fixing up the house for the renters and preparing for this trip.

I did have a minor freak out moment trying to leave the house when the Uber showed up late in a Versa hatchback with only 12” of trunk space. But thanks to Jens’ insistence we pack less than 46 liters of clothes each, we managed to fit in the tiny car with our carry-on bags on our laps.

We’ve meet up with Jens’ parents Peter and Vera. They are seasoned travelers, coming themselves via Mexico City. Vera’s perspective is that the 3-day rain delay is no problem, and will just make the climax of the trip that much better. In the meantime, we’re wet anyway, so might as well go jump in the freshwater pool.