antiorario

My daylight saving

Back to normal programming now.

August 9. When the Southwest begins, the desert does too. Enough with the mind-numbing monotony of Virginia, Tennessee, Mississippi and Louisiana freeways and their endless rows of trees on both sides: you could fall asleep in Roanoke and wake up right before Lake Pontchartrain and believe you just dozed off for a few seconds. As much fun as it may be to hit stray armadillos or make fun at waitresses’ names during rest stops in Nothingness, MS, it’s not until your sight can lose itself into the horizon that your brain can finally feel at home. Or maybe it’s just mine that does.

Still, I’m not saying that driving from Fort Stockton to Tucson was a breeze. New Mexico features a different kind of nothingness, possibly even more tangible and real. But at least you don’t have to drive for eight and a half hours wondering what will be on the other side of those damn trees, what in the world they will be hiding, what interesting people will inhabit those certainly sumptuous mansions. (The answer being, again: nothing and none, or at least very little and very few.)

New Mexico doesn’t lie and doesn’t hide: it shows its open, inhospitable land, where all a GPS navigator can do is signal a slight curve to the left in 257 miles.

During this drive we were able to jump two time zones within a matter of hours. Quite a feat if one is not flying, unless Arizona is involved. Arizona thinks Daylight Saving makes no sense, so during the summer months it basically runs on Pacific Time. Maybe they don’t need that extra sunlight in the evening, and I won’t be the one to blame them.

Arriving in Tucson in the middle of the afternoon, when your mind is already set at dinner time, is refreshing for all the wrong reasons. It makes you feel as if you had all the time in the world, and the hot air makes for quite a pleasant diversion from the air-conditioned car.