L U N A T A L K with Eva Moon

10 Fucking P.M.

September 27, 2007 on 3:04 pm | In General Musing, Travel |

There’s always at least one thing one forgets when packing for a trip. For us, it was some device to keep track of what time it is. I know they make things like that, but you’d never know it to look in our gear. I do have this laptop, but it’s a bit cumbersome when lashed to the wrist.

Normally, I’m fine with not knowing what time it is on vacation. What does it matter? In fact, it’s one of the POINTS of getting away. Loosen up and let go of schedules. Who cares if it’s lunch time or not? The question is: are you hungry?

However, there are situations where a time piece is a damned useful bit of technology. Theatres seem to be rather insistent about curtain times, for example. And when one wakes in the middle of the night and wonders how one is doing on readjusting one’s internal Big Ben, a quick bleary glance at the glowing dial of a clock is a tad easier than crawling out of bed and firing up the old computer.

I’ve always felt it’s best to get on local time as quickly as possible. Two years ago, we landed in Athens at 10 am after about nine hundred and thirty seven hours in transit. We dropped our bags at the hotel and lit out for the acropolis. Did the same here (except with the Tower of London standing in for the acropolis). I managed to keep my face out of the soup until 8 pm. Late enough for a first night, I think - especially considering we’re going to be up early for the Stonehenge sacri… tour. Passed out in bed and woke, wide awake, sometime later in darkness. Was it near dawn? I felt pretty rested. No clock. Got up to check the time on the computer. Ten p.m.? Can that be right? Two fucking hours of sleep?

Ah me, might as well blog.

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