Culture Shock, Jetlag and Me

WD Fyfe

4 am1There’s a fundamental difference between 3:15 a.m. and 4 in the morning.  Four in the morning is “Famous Blue Raincoat” cool.  It has the sound of smooth blues and dim brick cafe light; silhouette wooden chairs and a remembrance of stale yesterday in its eyes.  3:15 a.m., on the other hand, is just sleeplessly maddening.  It’s the exotic and the ordinary, separated by 45 minutes.  Intercontinental travel is like that: yesterday and today separated by a few lost hours stranded in the sky.  In the end, you’re left with a middle of the night kitchen table, ordinary dark from a street light window and the room full of deep roasted Italian morning, dripping into the coffee pot on the counter.  Two equidistant perceptions processed at the same time.  Utterly confused by what the senses know to be true, they shut down, and for long minutes you stare-face —…

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