Of course, by the time 5pm arrived I was well in need of a siesta – as regular readers of this blog know, I love a good siesta on the best of days, let alone on those where you’ve been up since before the dawn. And man, was I tired. In fact, I could liken it to jet lag. My body clock was well and truly messed and and trying to auto-correct itself. So I foolishly had a nap and then wouldn’t you know it, later that night when I was trying to lullaby myself to sleep, I was wide awake as usual. And then the next morning was a replay of the one before.
And so it went on… but over the course of two weeks, my body clock started to do as it was told. The more sunrises we saw (and when I say we, I mean me and my body clock), the more we came to realise that they are every bit as magical as sunsets. It’s just that there aren’t a whole slew of bars playing Balearic beats (or full-on tech-house depending on where you choose to watch them) dedicated to them. But that’s what makes the sunrise even more special; it’s the silence that surrounds it. The breeze rustling the tree tops, the birds slowly starting to chirp, the waves lapping the shoreline – the sounds of life unfolding naturally, as it should be.