On the joys of traveling East

Published on November 18th, 2008 Leave your comment (1 so far) »

I have managed to be on some kind of aircraft on eight separate occasions this year - that’s a record for me. One aspect of travel that seems consistent is when switching timezones to the West, all can be conquered; but traveling East is an altogether more troubling experience.

It is currently 0420 in the morning and there’s not even a hint of sleep meandering its way into my disturbingly alert mind. This very post is a clear demonstration of just how awake I am: I am rarely coherent enough during nights of insomnia to achieve little more than stare at the television in the hope overnight TV (which these days seems to be only for the hard of hearing) proves adequately boring to leave me snoring.

I tried, of course, slipping under the covers around 1 a.m. to drift off lightly in the tantalising torture of expectant rest. Twenty minutes later and a shudder that some cultures apparently attribute to your body snatching back your escaping soul, slapped me to a greater waking state than I ever feel after a good night’s rest. That’s just great, thanks a bunch.

What’s the trigger this time?

The cause of this current state is a switch of timezones. I left gloriously warm and glowing Marin County - the spiritual source of mountain biking, a little north of San Francisco, over the Golden Gate Bridge, where the crusties munch on granola and all manner of exotic organic produce - leaving Saturday afternoon to return to the UK - a little West of London, dull, drizzling, grey and chilly - Sunday morning.

(A little customer satisfaction tip to all you taxi drivers out there, don’t turn up at the airport at the precise published landing time of the incoming flight, then complain at having to wait around for 40 minutes.)

The unpacking and scrub-up over with, it was time to rally the troops for the battle ahead: stay awake until normal bed-time. A great Chinese meal and lots of conversation did the trick perfectly.

You see, the theory goes that adjustment is eased by immediately enforcing oneself onto the local timezone’s schedule. This works quite superbly when traveling West, it seems, where the effects are little more than a few days of caffeine-susceptible sluggishness.

It was all going so well

Having suffered on return journeys across the Atlantic twice this year already, I was determined to puff out my chest, broaden my shoulders, and prepare to stare the gnarled, warty face of jet-lag with knee trembling defiance.

Instead, I am wide awake, it is dark, damn cold, and I’m greatly irritated that tomorrow (or should I say later today) will likely prove very unproductive due to sleep deprivation.

Get a grip and be a man, man

Ask any regular long-haul traveler about beating jet-lag and you’ll have all manner of advice generally revolving, as above, around getting onto the local schedule as rapidly as possible. These people invariably forget to mention this is a one-way solution. Approach them later with your experience traveling East and the conversation runs something like this:

them: Hey, how was your trip, cope with the jet-lag?

you: It was fine on the way out, but I must have got the timing wrong for the way back, it was terrible. Insomnia, hunger at strange hours, bowel movements at even stranger hours. I felt like I had been in a Star Trek transporter accident and all my atoms were slightly out of phase. It was a vile, and pungent, experience. Is there something I did wrong?

them: You traveled back from West to East?

you: Thats right.

them: Oh, yeah, that’s a killer.

you: Well, thank you for your original half-arsed advice <insert appropriate tirade of sleep-deprived, emotionally charged retaliation here>

Without downing a cocktail of drugs, that are almost impossible to get in the UK anyway (should I be listening to more travel advice?), it looks like no matter what I try, the punishment for long-haul Easterly travel is several days ordering coffee like a zombie.

You never know, I might get some more blog posts out in this newly acquired slice of productive free time.

Tags: coffee, insomnia, San Francisco, sleep, travel
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Photograph by daniel wildman