“There is a is a certain metaphysical comfort in knowing that you can cease to have material form and it doesn’t hurt at all.” ~Bill Bryson
We flew from North America to Fiji on Friday and lost Saturday. Every time one flies from North America to New Zealand, Australia, or the South Pacific, a day is lost. Literally taken away and no one asks how you feel about losing a day in your life.
Where Saturday went, I couldn’t tell you. Time is a strange thing. If I look at time like a little wrinkle in a linear line, then it is easier for me to understand that Saturday is not lost, just in the wrinkle, and to be fair, the lost day will be given back to us on our return flight to the United States, kind of like stretching the wrinkle out of the timeline.
Saturday, we did not exist, yet we were born again on Sunday. So bizarre. It puzzles me and leaves me with many unanswered questions. For example, if someone gives birth crossing the international dateline, what date does she put on the birth certificate?
Or, since we will be in New Zealand for the U.S. Presidential election, will I know who is elected President a day before everyone in the U.S.? Hmmm…I can see many possibilities in this scenario if I was a betting woman.
Seriously though, I do vaguely understand the principles involved in the establishment of an international date line. I see that there has to be some kind of invisible line where one day ends and the next one begins. But, the confounding oddities of a wrinkle in time always trip me up.
Not only is my sleep pattern messed up, but my circadian clock is all confused. What day is it? What time is it? See, I said I wouldn’t post anything while we were traveling, but I am wide awake at 3 am. I’ve had my coffee and toast, and am waiting for the sun to rise to remind me once again that another day exists for me.
There was a certain sense of satisfaction stepping off the plane in Fiji, knowing that I didn’t exist on Saturday. It was like my atoms all rearranged themselves in a transporter while I was watching “My Big Fat Greek Wedding 2” on the screen on the back of the airplane seat.
It was a pleasure, actually a miracle to me, to find myself in Fiji, all reassembled and ready to begin a new adventure. And we get to do it all over again when we return to the United States. But, on our return journey we will cross the dateline in the opposite direction and arrive in LA before we left New Zealand. Incredible!
So, anyway, we are thrilled to be in Fiji, even if we are not sure what day or time it is.
What kind of experiences do you have when crossing the International Dateline?