When The Jet Lag Hits...

Me on the beach in Sarande, Albania

When I signed up to essentially a thirty-six hour journey from Edmonton to Corfu, I didn't expect I'd run into any real issues. I didn't, which is good, but the effect a trip like that had on my body and mind was a bit more than I would have liked. 

I had been handling it mostly like a trooper, including the ridiculous two hour on-plane delay at Toronto, but by the time I reached London, I'd had enough. The close quarters with hundreds of people began to really test my last nerve and if I sat down in even a remotely comfortable position I'd soon drop off into sleep that was so sudden and deep I went right from wide awake into REM sleep and nodded like I'd been drugged, nearly falling out of my chairs.

Thankfully we managed to get to our Air Bnb in Corfu relatively unscathed and with a taxi driver who wasn't an asshole. Result! In fact, everyone in Greece we have encountered to date has been a gorgeous soul which makes us lament the fact the country is ever so effing expensive. Otherwise we'd have no reservations about setting up shop there for a couple months to experience more. Our Corfu host, Spiros, was a lovely older guy who lived right next door, so it was useful to have someone local so close. Read more about our time in Corfu in Pete's post here.

By the time we got to Sarande in Albania (the journey of which you can read in Pete's first post) and got settled in, the jet lag was taking hold well and truly and I was starting to feel generally unwell. Fast forward 4 days and I had my first of what could be many melt downs.

Me? Melt down? You are probably surprised to hear this. My normally rather stoic self does have the tendency to make people think I'm some strong person who doesn't get overly bothered by things. A lot of people don't know that I cried when my flight took off from Calgary to Toronto. Like, real tears. Okay, I wasn't sobbing, but it was very real, very wet big old tears. Maybe it was 3 months of strange emotions and childhood memories and the realisation sinking in that I won't be home for years again. Maybe it was the trip and the jet lag and the culture shock. Maybe (and most likely) it was a combination of everything.

No one really sees the "bad" sides to travelling. The tiredness and frustration when you show up in a foreign city, lost as hell and exhausted and having to just keep on truckin' because you need to get where you're going. Culture shock is something I have written about in the past, and most recently had written a bit about in terms of reverse culture shock which is exactly what it sounds like - turning up at home and realising you are so damn foreign in your own home.

I ended up full on sobbing at the kitchen table, sometimes solemnly looking off into the distance at the gorgeous scenery we're blessed to have around here and be privy to from our apartment balcony. Don't get me wrong, I don't regret anything I do or am doing. Sometimes the emotions of everything just become overwhelming and you can't do anything except cry because words don't describe it adequately.

This time though, I found myself wondering if my ancestors experienced culture shock in Canada when they moved from the Ukraine or Ireland. Maybe they did, maybe they didn't. Maybe they were too busy trying to survive in a foreign land that they didn't overly have time to process their feelings on the situation. It's hard to tell, but suffice it to say, culture shock really, really sucks.

In typical Erin style though, I decided to get out and try to just force myself to get to know Sarande. We started hosting Couchsurfers from all over the world and we even met a Czech girl and an Italian guy who both have been living in Sarande too. In all, it's been a really good few days and I think the culture shock is fading. When I tried to explain to Pete how I was feeling it took awhile to get the words right, but as he said "In the last year I've gone from living in the UK to not living in the UK or Canada to being on the road and exposed to tons of places and cultures." This is great, but hell, I had reverse culture shock in Canada and by the time I left, I was only just getting used to being back! When you think of it that way, it's no wonder I had a little melt down.

So kids, remember that when you take it upon yourself to do some monstrous journey of 36 hours, it's not just your body that suffers. Emotions get tight and you can suffer mentally too. The best way to handle it is to do what feels right for you - sleep, eat, whatever! For me, it's usually having a cry for a bit or sitting in the window longingly looking outside wondering why I'm racked with anxiety and then eventually forcing myself to get out there.

So watch out Sarande - I'm back!