When you are in that half awake place just before dawn. You are dreaming, but its not a real dream. You can change the pattern of where your mind wanders, but not entirely. Half sleep. And suddenly where you pushed your thoughts you became instantly aware that you have forgotten something important and you jolt awake. The realisation hammers your consciousness from pleasant fantasy into panic.
In that first hardly noticed moment in which you wake,
David Whyte
coming back to this life from the other
more secret, moveable and frighteningly honest world
where everything began,
there is a small opening into the new day
which closes the moment you begin your plans.
And I am awake and I have forgotten to do something very important.
What a difference a decent night sleep can make. Alcohol punishes the quality of your sleep. It sounds counterintuitive, a glass or two of wine can relax and send you into a pleasant state of drowsiness that makes it easy to sleep off into a dreamless abyss. Small amounts of alcohol seem to be fine, that blissful drowsiness can be good thing. It is the high doses that crushes everything from REM to slow wave sleep. Waking after sleep onset is the big problem.
I am not just making this up.
Ebrahim, I. O., Shapiro, C. M., Williams, A. J., & Fenwick, P. B. (2013). Alcohol and sleep I: effects on normal sleep. Alcoholism: Clinical and Experimental Research, 37(4), 539-549. doi: https://doi.org/10.1111/acer.12006
Shell wakes fifteen minutes after I rectify the problem. She suggests an early morning walk at Mushrif National Park. The weather is mild in the early morning, around 15C, so we take the quick drive and knock over a brisk 6km.
Morning exercise sets up the day, even if it is just a stroll. I feel so much better for the walk.
“Lack of activity destroys the good condition of every human being.”
Plato
On the way home we decide to try for some karak. There are hole in the wall tea shops everywhere near our apartment. So far we have not found a decent karak, just very sweet milk tea.
In December 2018 we spent a few weeks Rajasthan. It is cold in the north of India at that time of year. We would hire a driver to take us from town to town. Rajasthan is one of my favourite places in the world. Jaisalmer was amazing, I never wanted to leave Pushkar. Every morning we would buy the spiced tea from the nearest cart, masala chai. Sweet and spiced, so hot it burnt your mouth. It was perfect on those cold mornings.
Till ye have battled with great grief and fears,
Sarojini Naidu
And borne the conflict of dream-shattering years,
Wounded with fierce desire and worn with strife,
Children, ye have not lived: for this is life.
Karak is close to masala chai, but made slightly different. We found a hole in the wall not more than a block from the apartment. Two men running the stall, both in a turban, Sikh’s. I asked for karak and they shook their heads. Not happening. I asked for masala chai. With a smile they poured me two paper cups from the wide, shallow pan of of boiling, spiced tea.
Delicious. I have found my local tea place. I need to return to India.
We head to a different coffee shop for a change of scene. The coffee is good, but the place is full of plastic plants and has a vacant, soulless feel.
We head to House of Wisdom. I write some of this, read my book. We have one week of school left before the Christmas break. Croatia, Slovenia and Italy.
A quiet afternoon of reading.
Early to bed.