I thought I’d gotten away with it. Spreading out flights, medium and short haul. Worked my way to Australia, keep moving every few days, no problem right?
I thought so. A measly eight hour flight from Singapore should have been no problem for this little jetsetter.
I arrived in Sydney, sought out a pub for lunch, then popped for dinner at an appropriated friends’ house. Dinner was utterly delicious. Cooked by the friends’ boyfriend, I won’t mention names here for fear of him being poached purely for his culinary ability. It was pretty good. There was homemade cake. Out again the next day with appropriated family for lunch. Whiled away the afternoon being fabulous and drinking cocktails, before donning gladrags(ish) to head out for Mardi Gras.
What could be next, except a little tap on my shoulder as I’m waiting for my pre-night out snacks to arrive, and as I turn? A none too delicate wallop in the face from a little she-devil known as jetlag. Not a polite nudge , or even a firm, attention grabbing shove. No.
A full roundhouse swing with her accessory laden handbag, and a follow up backhander across the chops (she was definitely wearing rings). She ambushed me as I waited for my fries and something to do with avocado, and well and truly clobbered me. The little witch.
It’d been so long, I’d forgotten the exquisite nuances of ‘proper’ jetlag. The ‘I’m exhausted to my very soul, never mind my bones’ feel. So much so that my only options appear to be vomiting or crying. This is nicely coupled with a nervous energy which let’s you know that the exhaustion should definitely not be mistaken as a precursor to sleep.
I did in fact manage to drag myself up, shake off the tweety birds comically orbiting my head and get the she-devil in a choke hold for most of the rest of the evening.
Walking helped. And while I’ve no wish to do extensive testing (mainly because jetlag is a sensation I wish to avoid as much as possible in the future), it is possible that glitter, the music of Lady Gaga and Kylie Minogue, choreographed dance routines and general displays of human kindness, support and all-inclusive love, may help as well.
I clawed my way out of my bunk bed the next day, and slowly recovered with a course of coastal walks, city tour walks, aerial drinking, and avocado in various mushed up guises.
I was still more than ready for the relaxing prospect of looking after four animals in a house sit outside the city.