There are millions of dollars left on the table by the pharmaceutical industry every day they don’t find a cure for jet lag. As I mentioned last week, time heals all wounds, it’s just that sometimes time can take so much time.
Our flight was relatively easy, our arrival had a few hiccups-we left a suitcase at the airport-our first jet lag related casualty. In all fairness, we did feel like we were on the moon, or in the twilight zone or on the other side of the planet. Every now and then I fell asleep for about four seconds mid-sentence with my eyes open.
We called this phenomenon, The Black Holes.
They worked like this:
My husband would say, “What did you want?”
I wouldn’t respond.
“What did you want?” he would ask again.
“Did I want something?” I would reply.
“Didn’t you just ask me for something?”
“I don’t know, did I?”
These episodes went on for days.
The only one not affected by The Black Holes of jet lag was our son, of course. He found his rhythm the moment we arrived; he was never grumpy or ill-tempered because he’s a cyborg.
Then Friday happened, what I like to call our banner day. We slept well, ate good food on a normal schedule, exercised and spent a full day outside. We walked to the harbor and took a ferry over to the Taronga Zoo situated across the water. They have a sky lift to take you from the ferry up to the Zoo nestled in a lush, green hillside. The view below is of the Sydney skyline and the crystal-clear water that surrounds it.
It was inside this ski lift pod, our circadian rhythms suddenly locked step with the time and place our bodies already inhabited. My husband laughed out, “This is amazing. Where are we? Jurassic Park?”
“We’re in Australia,” I marveled, “I just couldn’t see it through all those black holes.”
Then we met Darwin.