To quote the timeless movie “In Bruges,” all I can say of my experience so far is “I know I’m awake, but I feel like I’m dreaming.” Sitting on a bus driving through the hilly Italian countryside, I don’t yet realize what’s happening. The traveling took it out of me. Seven hours on my flight between O’Hare and Frankfurt left me both sleep deprived and nursing a sore neck from attempting to sleep in an aisle seat.
I was so exhausted that I slept in the Frankfurt airport during my five hour lay over (which goes a lot slower than one might hope), and again on the two hour plane ride to Rome. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to sight see, since my program through Arcadia University was there to pick me up, along with other people arriving from their own planes.
For the moment, I write and listen to avoid the claws of sleep that drag my eyelids down and gently whispers “just lay down for a moment, this exhaustion can slip right off you like rain off a waxed car.” But I refuse. Jet lag is the worst part of the transition, and is easily avoided by falling asleep at nighttime here, not the nighttime that my body tells me. Shhhhhh, Andrew’s internal timeclock, you’re being too loud.