The Italy Jet Lag Day: Please Do Less Than You Think

Your body totally skipped the flight, and now it is showing up to the party late, after you have already touched down. First, you get to shuffle off the plane, and then deal with the joys of customs and baggage claim. Feel the excitement build in your chest as you wait for your luggage to show up and take the opportunity to wonder if it has decided to take a different vacation, leaving you to fend for yourself among the cobbled streets of Rome.

Now, this is the fun part. You get to take the Leonardo Express. It is supposed to take 32 minutes to get to Termini, an eternity, especially because you still have to figure out what the heck to do with your luggage and walk across the cobbled streets of Rome once the train drops you off.

You get to the hotel, and you are rewarded with even more waiting. The room isn’t ready yet. Your phone is about to die. Someone is already claiming they aren’t hungry. But, really, they are just sleeping in a chair and will be the first to fall asleep in the new hotel room.

This is my reason for thinking that Italy-bound long-haul journeys should always include a Day Zero.

Day Zero includes a hotel night. There’s no expectation for Day Zero to also be a sightseeing day.

Day Zero is the gentle, easy-to-cross, confused time between travel and actually arriving. You don’t need to do anything to take the Tiber by storm, master the Roman metro, or start building a gallery of your own. You only need to bring yourself, your bags, and your jet-lagged body to the same place as the rest of us.

This is time well spent.

Now we have something to be suspicious about: empty time. Italy is not cheap and neither are your vacation days. What a waste it would be to lose an entire afternoon when the Colosseum is in front of you waiting for you to visit after years of anticipation.

You try your best to maximize each day.

Reservations are made. The entire city is crossed by foot. The tired are left standing late at night beneath the work of Michelangelo.

What do you get to remember?

Most of the time you’re left with only the bad experiences. The headache, the line, and shouting outside the metro because you missed the right exit.

Jet lag does odd things to your mind. Why do I feel I have to defend to the entire family which exit to take? Why the taxi over the train? Why the rush? Where is the hotel address and why do you have it? Where is lunch? Why do I feel like I’m stuck answering all these questions?

There is always one overly cheery person.

You see the others with the spark of “I haven’t slept and now I’m going to order spritz #2 before lunch,” and in this group there is the one person about to break local laws by wanting to order a nap a little too close to sunset.

You won’t see me nap on arrival day, but I will join in for the sharp-edge-dulling power of a quick 20 to 30 minutes. You’d better set an alarm, open the curtains, wash your face, and be ready to explore. But don’t venture too far!

Having a complicated arrival-day plan is just one charming thing you can do away with during your trip.

You can have a table set in the sunshine. One with a plate of pasta near the hotel. You can take a leisurely stroll around a nearby piazza. You might even discover an open-doored church. You can make a quick supermarket run for water, fruit and your first miscellaneous Italian snack of the trip.

Nothing has to be scheduled. Nothing has to be costly. Nothing will ruin your trip should you decide you want to take a quick detour back to the hotel.

Your arrival-day radius can be tiny, yet strangely beautiful.

It becomes possible to hear the city instead of chasing after it: cups meeting saucers, scooters rattling, a delivery driver mad at a doorway, church bells coming from an indeterminate location.

You notice the buildings glowing in the light. You notice how dense the warm air is. You notice the tiny dogs that are being walked by well-mannered, tiny people. You also notice that your first coffee in Italy is somehow exponentially more manageable than you anticipated.

You are obliged to have lunch because it is lunchtime in Italy, even if your body is completely unaware.

You walk because you are greased by the sun and in motion, but more because walking is the best way to familiarize yourself with a new place. You try to avoid turning it into an annoying tour, and only walk far enough to figure out which corner has the bar, the pharmacy, and how to get back without relying on Google Maps.

You have your first dinner, not far from your location.

Three glasses of wine at lunch (we have finally arrived) mean your first evening is spent on the Italian mattress, asleep at your most ambitious Italian dinner hour. You will not be impressive.

You will wake to a different day. There will be people opening their shutters and serving breakfast, little spoons chinking in cups, and your first sense of being here. Your walk to the bar will already feel familiar.

And after breakfast, the Colosseum will still be there.

So will you.

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Buon viaggio,
Maria
📍Rome