Create an Easy Entry to Europe

or Jet-lag Self Defence

                                                                                                          by Mele Fujiwara

Jet lagged, disoriented, with no language skills, is the way most of us enter Europe. We often start our trips in the "Front Door Cities" we fly into ...then for a day or two wonder "When does the fun begin?!" Our first few journal entries—if we write them—sound something like: "Almost got hit by a bus crossing Bond St.,"--"Have no idea what I paid for taxi ride to.....,"--"Ticket taker at Termani didn't speak English—3 frustrating hours later we figured out how to get to Pisa." --"Too tired to look any further so took the high priced hotel next to the B&B we wanted" ..........and on it goes!

I've taken melatonin, made "lay overs" on the mainland—using up 1 of my precious Europe days--consumed caffeine and chocolate to stay awake during plays, to cope with the jet lag that inevitably comes with 18-24 hr flights from Hawaii. After my second trip I finaly accepted I am going to be tired, slow thinking, easily frustrated and mistake prone. After all the work getting here, I need pampering and no major decisions for 2 days. I need to stroll, sit, and stare while my internal clock catches up with my body.

With this revelation, I decided to "go with the flow". I now take care of myself by going directly to a sleepy "off the tourist map" village a few hours from my arrival destination. International Air Ports don't tax my non-existant language skills since English is on their "top 4 list". Public transportation is simple from European air ports. (Not like getting from Honolulu. to Kailua) I know how much it will cost—since I found out easily before I left, and have the local currency pinned to my blouse. With one train or bus available to my small village I don't worry about being on the wrong one (or discover it later).

My first few hours in Europe are spent starring at "real live" pastoral scenes, safely dozing with legs stretched, and deciding if I want 2 or 3 lumps in my Styrofoam cup of tea. The conductor & food cart attendants are patient with me while I fumble for tickets or local change. When I arrive in my petite village—I know I'm only a few blocks from my accommodation. I can't get too lost. I wander along--absorbing the ambiance, with Hotel address in hand, probably looking confused. Locals offer help and directions, rather than shoving past me or picking my pocket. Traffic is easy and seems to be watching out for me and their children. My hotelier greets me warmly in a language I don't understand but a tone I do. We do the name recognition game, then with pointing and laughing I make it to my room. I realize it might be time to get my Phrase Book packed in the bottom of my bag. As I drift off to sleep, I know I am on my dream trip.

After a few days of strolling cobbled streets, attempting greetings with easy going waiters, shop keepers and sight ticket takers—I discover my jet lag has subsided, my ear is tuned into the music of the local language, I can use a few phrases (without the book) and can slow count the local currency. I'm now ready to head to the Big Cities. I know I'm alert enough to enjoy the serindipity their charged energy brings.

Mele Fujiwara, TERC Travel Consultant