The author of one of my favourite novels, on a recent, alcohol-infused trip to Japan:
It was while I was traveling this summer that I first started to appreciate the hangover. There would be nights in Japan when DB and I would go out and, as one does, end up drinking a little too much. But we’d still do things the next day—go see temples and castles and museums. We’d still do more or less what we had planned.
Those hangovers felt different than the usual ones. Not just from the activity but also, I think, from the openness lent by traveling. I was more amused at, and aware of, the shape of those hangovers; I discovered that in the midst of them I could do certain things—like people-watch or read a book—perfectly well, and others—like construct coherent sentences—not so well at all. There, on the road, the hangover wasn’t something to be gotten rid of; it was part of the whole experience.”