The Wee Small Hours of the Morning

 Woke at 2:15 in the jet-lagged morning with rain sounding on the windowpane. Read for an hour with no sign that sleep was forthcoming. A full day of school tomorrow and the glamor of travel is starting to look a bit dimmer. Sitting upright for 14 plus hours in a plane is not anyone’s first choice of fun. However, the four movies I watched helped enormously, especially since some of them were excellent (The Wife, for example). Travel as a chance to catch up on films. But then there's more to come—the re-entry.

Compared to hot and sunny Singapore, chilly and rainy San Francisco was not as inviting as a homecoming might be. My hopes to regenerate exercise on my bike dashed by the rain and the chance to re-enter a more controlled diet thrown off-course by some stomach bug courtesy of the Saturday night noodle restaurant in Singapore. The reunion with the piano was most welcome and though the plum blossoms are gone, I’m looking forward to the crab apple trees in the Arboretum. But three full days back at school and off again this Friday to Kansas City— looks like that visit will have to wait. 

Travel writers don’t often invite their armchair traveler readers into the wee hours of the morning when jet-lag strikes mercilessly and for good reason— one would much rather read about the place in Singapore where fish nibble dead skin from your dangling feet in the water than your 2am strategies to get through the night. But it’s all part of the package. 

Now it’s 4:30 am and I turn to attempt sleep once more. Thanks for keeping me company.

PS The “Wee Small Hours of the Morning” is a great tune, with a nice vocal rendition by Frank Sinatra and a poetic piano version by Fred Hersch.