Jet-lag and weddings

Have I ever mentioned how much I hate jet-lag? I slept during the daytime today - from eleven until about two - and I figured I could then go to bed at the normal time like a normal person and sleep through till morning. But no, my cicadian rhythms seem to want to bite me. I went to bed at half ten and have slept exactly four hours, which is of course the amount of time required to make up a sort-of night's sleep, and I have a feeling that I'm now going to stay awake till five, then sleep until one in the afternoon.

The most ridiculous part of this whole thing, though, has to be the way my parents and Dadi are also jet-lagged, but in the other direction, having come back from India. I prefer that kind of jet-lag - it's always easier travelling west, as you merely get up too early rather than much too late - but seeing as mine is different, I have a feeling that everyone's going to fall asleep at their own odd times in this house, and I also wouldn't be surprised if I had to fight Pedar for the computer before five o'clock in the morning.

While I'm here, I may as well update properly. The day was nice, restful, and I managed to unpack without any histrionics and/or disasters. All my stuff has made the trip, and two packages - one each to disc0nnect and language_idling - are in the American postal system as I speak. My mother was quite intrigued to see what weird stuff I'd brought back with me. Sorry to disappoint, but hardly anything. It was nice to actually talk to my mother again - we hadn't even spoken for two weeks - and hear about the wedding. She says she can't decide whether or not I should have been there - she says she wanted me to see it, but half the time she found herself saying, "I'm so glad Iona isn't here." The main reason for that was the heat. I haven't been to India at the height of summer since I was four or so, and that time was just one prolonged disaster for me, as I was constantly feeling sick and fainting in the heat. Even my mother was ill, she said, and I can see it. She looks like she needs another holiday to get over it, but I didn't point out this irony.

Anyway, the wedding was wonderful, she said. He, that is, Hemang the groom, was lovely, and Rumpa was a beautiful bride (at which point I asked, "Does he call her Rumpa?" as that's just the family name for her, her real name is Vaishali. My mother started giggling like a teeanger and said, "He calls her Savitri!" I liked it) and the family are all very nice, and Dadu and Dididbhai (my mother's aunt and uncle and Rumpa's parents) won't stop crying, and apparently Mashi threw tantrums all over the place regarding her clothes, and her make-up, and it's her wedding, and why can't it be perfect, etc, etc. My mother sounded less aggravated and more affectionate when she was telling me this, so it seems she's finally got a viable excuse for her hysteria - she's a bride!

Not that other people weren't having hysterics. Mashi's best friend, Shahana, sent an email to her boss saying she had a "family emergency" and skipped work for three days to go to the wedding. At which point I should say the wedding was in Delhi and Shahana lives and works in New York. She didn't tell Mashi she was coming, simply turned up on the doorstep and nearly gave them all heart failure. There were other people giving yet more people heart failure, too, as my mother said another guest was one of Mashi's cousins, Antara, who is one of my favourite people. She's bouncy and always giggling and such a teenager in her outlook although she must be twenty-something by now. She was the one who attempted to steal Hemang's shoes. He guessed in time and hid them somewhere, so she stole Pedar's shoes, as he happened to have the same pair! In the end, they paid her off for the girls - they made eleven thousand rupees, all told, but I declined my share. What would I do with it?

The happy couple are now honeymooning in Kerala. I wish them joy. I've never been to Kerala, myself - apparently it's famous for two things, coconuts and literacy. It has beautiful southern weather, grows most of the coconuts in the country, and is the only place in the world with a hundred percent literacy among its population.

And so, the end. Having rambled my way through that, and eaten that Butterfinger (it was nice, I approved) I will leave you to your regularly scheduled night's sleep.

Sleep!

Oh, my god. My head. It hurts. Everything hurts. I need sleep, dammit! I just want to sleep! Why is that too bloody much to ask?!

I went out at five am. I didn't see the sun rise properly, because I went to the beach and the sea is to the west, but it was still an interesting experience. I must have been the only person awake for miles. Going down the dunes, I kept thinking I saw footprints, and then I finally realised they were pawprints, and hoofprints, and webbed-footprints. I saw rabbits and squirrels and birds, all rather perturbed at the two-legged intruder, and I saw the sun turn from red to yellow and I felt the breeze change direction, and I got home about six am feeling like I'd had an experience.

I fell asleep at nine, of course, slept till twelve until my mother dragged me out of bed, and now I'm so tired I want to die, but no-one will let me rest for a moment. "You won't sleep tonight!"

I know. I'll sleep now.

But sadly, it is not to be.