Two flights down, one to go.
Our layover in NY went kinda like this: J express to Tribeca, screeching love from our sobrino, suspicion from our sobrina (who doesn't quite remember us), massive shopping trip at Duane Reade for DEET and contact solution, pancakes, haircuts, lunch at Bar Pitti, a recital at Enzo's preschool (note: always take the opportunity to watch 3-year-olds play on xylophones, it is fucking brilliant), laundry, bap and banchan, a sad goodbye with the sobrinos, and then back off to JFK.
Our layover in Frankfurt is going kinda like this: yawn, sleep, marvel at the gorgeousness of German airport bathrooms, try to fight to stay awake, fail.
In three more hours we board Lufthansa again for Tunisia, and hope that Thomas and Adrian, our Swiss friends from Medellin, managed to conjure up enough French to make that hostel reservation for us in Tunis. Also possible that they were tipsy and screwing with us. We shall see, won't we?