HUMOR | TRAVEL

Fighting Jet Lag, One European Park At A Time

Any advice on this?

I was late to the international travel game.

Sure, I’d done some lengthy jaunts across the U.S. between Los Angeles and Boston, LA and Manhattan then LA and Hawaii, but it wasn’t until age 42 that I took a truly- lengthy flight and happily touched down across the Atlantic in Rome, Italy.

Ahhh, Roma.

We arrived under darkness, so it was a revelation to look out off of our AirBNB’s little terrace the next morning and gasp, “There’s a literal Roman arch still standing at the end of our block.”

It was in easy walking distance, so we hiked over to set eyes on the Colosseum from the outside — wow — then meandered into the Forum — such history — before wandering into our personally-favorite area, the ruins within the Palatine Hill.

Piazza Navona, check.

The Spanish Steps, check.

The Pantheon — oh my word, double-check!

By mid-afternoon we’d made it to the stunning Villa Borghese park, a land of gelato, cute little carousels and real-life Italian lovers doing all forms of heavy petting on every other park bench. Heaven.

But, dear reader, this is what transpired with your intrepid hero —

Yep, I was down for the count.

Oh… that’s so pretty over there… let me just lay down here on this grass of Rome, this beautiful Italian grass… SNORE.

Jet lag struck this well-meaning newbie and whew, I had the best rest of my life amidst those fragrant trees, those bicycles gliding by, those lovers turning heads this way and then that, forever lip-locked.

Hmm, is there a non-pill recommendation for the first-time European traveler from the U.S.?, I wondered.

Thankfully it only happened that first afternoon and we were able to complete a memorable first journey to Italy — Orvieto in Umbria, the Cinque Terre region, even Pompeii.

It was a full two years before we were able to venture across the pond once again, this time to jolly old London.

I was no longer a newbie American tourist in Europe. I had learned my lesson and was ready to embrace the day and live it fully.

While our lodgings were in Vauxhall, it was only a quick zip under the Thames to the heart of it all.

Big Ben, yep. The Eye. Tower Bridge. Buckingham Palace. The works.

We adore nature and beautiful public parks and London is indeed the place to find such clean gems, created and gifted specifically to the public.

We traversed through St. James Park, waved to the Queen, then through stunning Green Park before crossing into expansive Hyde Park.

Oh the beauty.

After a visit to the Princess Diana Memorial Fountain, Eddie directed me up to one of his favorite areas, the Italian Gardens section in the north… where, oh that’s so pretty, I feel so alive… SNORE.

Surrounded by fountains, bucolic scenery and frolicking Brits, alas, this American was suddenly once again splayed out across the greenery like a midday drunk recovering from a bender.

Jet lag strikes the unsuspecting, yet again.

In truth, it’s not a terrible thing to be so happily at peace that you can sleep in such a beautiful public place.

But still.

As I sit here in 2023, charting our next trip to hopefully Croatia and parts of Greece, I’m optimistic.

I’m more mature now. I’m experienced and worldly, right? I should be fine.

Does anyone want to take bets, now?

Will I get to see it all with my dignity intact? Or will some poor Greek woman with a head scarf be smacking my butt with her broom because my resting carcass, strewn across the plaza, isn’t so good for business?

Send help!

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