Waking up in the promised land

Jet lag is a terrible thing. I thought that if I stayed up to reminisce with my old friend Snait (Yes, her parents named her squirrel) until 1:30 in the AM, I would sleep late and get on the right sleep schedule. Apparently, the right schedule for me in Israel is contrary to Benjamin Franklin's pronouncement that "early to rise and early to bed makes a man healthy and wealthy and dead." In Israel, I just don't sleep, and I'm no healthier or wealthier for it. And, of course, my writing is testimony to my being alive. You might conclude, ala Descarte, "I write therefore I am." In truth, I wouldn't mind some more sleep.
During my first stint in Israel, starting in 1980 at the Kfar Hayarok, I was a dairy farmer and I woke up every morning at 3 AM to milk the cows. Rising early continued with the army.
The second major stint in Israel was 1991 through '96 when I lived here with Irit and rose early to run on the beach every morning in Tel Aviv. I thought it would make me tired and help me sleep longer, but as the "best laid plans of mice and men," it didn't work out as predicted. I slept less and still continued to live with full vitality and vigor. I can't put my finger on it, but there is something about this place that makes me want to be awake and experience all that is here for me to experience. As Warren Zevon sang while dying of prostrate cancer, "I'll sleep when I'm dead."