I've been back to work now in the middle east for 4 days, or more accurately, 4 nights.
Upon my arrival I had a day to settle in then it was straight into the night shift. In the weeks leading up to coming over I had been trying to alter my body clock to ease the transition, so I guess I'm now suffering from reverse jet-lag, if that's even possible.
The shifts here are 12 hours long and given that I'm set up in a small windowless room it can be hard to tell day from night at the best of times. The length of the shifts can make it difficult to differentiate one day from another, you sleep, eat and work, one day merging into the next and creating relative time dilation.
It's easy to see someone around the office and question why they've changed their clothes, hoping they haven't had an accident, but then wondering if it's something more serious because who would carry around a full change of clothes. Then you start to think about their upbringing, how their parents dealt with this disorder or whether it's something that came with the onset of adulthood which they've had to learn to deal with as it's gotten progressively worse. You give them a supportive if knowing look and they flash one back that says "weirdo".
My routine has made breakfast an issue. My previous accommodation on my last visit provided free food and I took full advantage. When I was moved elsewhere and the food was no longer free, it was still within my budget. Eating at the hotel wasn't a problem as even the most expensive meal was around $10 New Zealand dollars. My new hotel for all it's fabulous fabulousness has one tiny flaw, the food is 10 times as much.
It can be fun to spoil yourself, on occasion, every morning is a bit OTT. The food itself isn't even gold plated which more than negates it's apparent value, though if it were one could assume it circumvent its main role as sustenance.
I have therefore spent more time balking than eating and have had to scratch around at mealtime to find other small morsels to whet my appetite. I've already had KFC for breakfast once this week. I did manage to get to a supermarket where I purchased an 8-pack of little Arabian cereals to try, not wanting to be too committal by diving straight into a big box. I also purchased a litre of what I thought was milk and a few other snacktacular options to get me through in moments of hunger and desperation.
The milk turned out to be yogurt, yogurt does not go well with Arabian coco-pops.
Upon my arrival I had a day to settle in then it was straight into the night shift. In the weeks leading up to coming over I had been trying to alter my body clock to ease the transition, so I guess I'm now suffering from reverse jet-lag, if that's even possible.
The shifts here are 12 hours long and given that I'm set up in a small windowless room it can be hard to tell day from night at the best of times. The length of the shifts can make it difficult to differentiate one day from another, you sleep, eat and work, one day merging into the next and creating relative time dilation.
It's easy to see someone around the office and question why they've changed their clothes, hoping they haven't had an accident, but then wondering if it's something more serious because who would carry around a full change of clothes. Then you start to think about their upbringing, how their parents dealt with this disorder or whether it's something that came with the onset of adulthood which they've had to learn to deal with as it's gotten progressively worse. You give them a supportive if knowing look and they flash one back that says "weirdo".
My routine has made breakfast an issue. My previous accommodation on my last visit provided free food and I took full advantage. When I was moved elsewhere and the food was no longer free, it was still within my budget. Eating at the hotel wasn't a problem as even the most expensive meal was around $10 New Zealand dollars. My new hotel for all it's fabulous fabulousness has one tiny flaw, the food is 10 times as much.
It can be fun to spoil yourself, on occasion, every morning is a bit OTT. The food itself isn't even gold plated which more than negates it's apparent value, though if it were one could assume it circumvent its main role as sustenance.
I have therefore spent more time balking than eating and have had to scratch around at mealtime to find other small morsels to whet my appetite. I've already had KFC for breakfast once this week. I did manage to get to a supermarket where I purchased an 8-pack of little Arabian cereals to try, not wanting to be too committal by diving straight into a big box. I also purchased a litre of what I thought was milk and a few other snacktacular options to get me through in moments of hunger and desperation.
The milk turned out to be yogurt, yogurt does not go well with Arabian coco-pops.
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