I think that there was once a time when I didn't believe that jetlag was a real thing. After my first trip to France I learned that there was some legitimacy to travelers' complaints--but still didn't think it was much to ramble about.
Now however--I am finding it to be as all-consuming as mono. When I traveled to China a year ago, the jetlag was actually quite pleasant--I felt tired at a descent hour of night and woke up at lovely hours in the morning. After a life of greeting mornings with a snarl or cuss word on the 5th or 6th round of snooze buttons--I thought, "This is kinda nice. I could get used to this. Is this the way that 'morning people' live? It's not too bad."
But quickly, my sense of time adjusted and within a week I was staying up till around midnight and sleeping so embarrassingly late that I lied to friends when we talked about our daily routines.
This time round seemed a little more traumatic. I arrived in Kport on Monday night and felt something close to illness I was so exhausted. Yesterday I really felt at one point that if I didn't find a place to lie down, I would drop--just drop--physically...fall....
Today was much better--but I still feel....weary. I am weary after a year in a foreign, alternate-universe-type culture. I am weary from the mistakes I've made along the learning curve. I am weary from the long trip. etc.
But I'm also filling overwhelmed by joy. Joy that I am home. Joy that I just experienced all of the past year. Joy that I am returning soon.
I'll write more later--I took notes in the LA airport and elsewhere of my first impressions upon reentry to the US--and I'll edit and share soon. For now--I am here. And here is wonderful.
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