It is half past four in the morning. Tanzania is two hours ahead. The sun would be up, and I'd be awake there.
The past two nights after I returned from Tanzania I have woken up from sleep every second hour, starred at the windows, wondering where I were exactly (in Tanzania obviously), gradually realising that the tightly shut windows do not match Africa. Realising that I am back home in my own flat. First time in over six years.
Here are no sounds. Only absolute silence. Add to that, no big hassles (so far) in regard of Internet, electricity, water or transport.
In Tanzania somebody would be sweeping the dust, a TV would blast gospel, the mosque would call for prayer, a mother would be boiling water for breakfast, and somebody would be pouring water from a tap. All acts performed without the slightest care for the fact that it could disturb someone.
And as much a comfort the silence here actually is for many good reasons, it also makes me uneasy.
I am not just two hours ahead of everyone else here, I am sleepless among people who sleep, and restless among people who seem to be restful.
But again, I find myself in the position that I have more time available to express myself, but too few impressions. Whereas in Tanzania I had an overload of impressions and too little time to express it.
I will be working on finding that balance the coming weeks, trying to enjoy the opportunity of rest Denmark seems to be able to provide.