Dégrisement

We are back from California. It was a grueling daily grind of breakfast, lunch and dinner, carefully planned to maximize friend and food diversity. All while temps were in the 90s and the humidity 30%. We had Thai, Laotian, Viet, and Mexican.
There was this long moment when we caught lunch at the Cheeseboard in Berkeley (mushroom, asiago, mozzarella, basil and spinach that day) while an impromptu jazz duo played, we actually lucked out and got a table right in the front, and then meandered next door to get a pound of cherries and spat the pits all along Shattuck and Vine, I think at that moment, my entire soul was just at a high hum. I think back to it as I do about walking across the wide shallow sand spits on Bora Bora.
There are often terms that come to my mind that are in French and simply cannot be translated. One such word is "grisé(ée)", an adjective used to describe the special high from having a great time. My otherwise terrific F/E dictionary says it means "intoxicated" only we never use it in relation to drink or drug.
Conversely, the process of coming down from this sensation is called dégrisement, which I've been experiencing in various degrees since getting back. It's not helped by the three-hour jetlag, which if you ask me is worse than six-hour or nine-hour jetlag. Impossible to get two already night-owlish people to sleep before midnight, or get them up for reasonable work hours. The first half of everyday is a mix of fog and funk.