With Two and a Half Women in America – A Summary

When I published my previous blog post, I titled it With Two and a Half Women in America – Part One with the idea that there would be parts two, three, and more to follow. Clearly, I had underestimated my capacity for putting things off. In my defence, I did have a lot to do. I worked, ate, slept, occasionally bathed, and spent the rest of my time saving my daughter from certain doom as she tried to plunge from tables, sofas, and beds in our hotel room.

However, I understand that this explanation may not mollify you. No doubt you checked my blog every day, even every hour perhaps, thirsting for my unique and insightful perspective on America—this remote nation, of which so little is known. I apologise. I will try to make up for it in this extra large blogpost.

If you have been reading the newspapers, you already know that I am now back in Hyderabad. Just like the Indians did on our way out, the Americans gave us a warm send-off. As we tried to exit their country, they checked our bags thoroughly to make sure that we had everything for the journey back home. They made other travellers stand with us in different lines to ensure that we never felt lonely. They tried to come up with many other small excuses to delay our departure, all the while probably hoping that we would change our minds and stay back. The security personnel at the airport were so sad we were leaving they could not even bring themselves to smile. Although we were touched (once at Boston airport and again at our transit in London), we decided that we just had to come home. We did not want to miss the pleasant Hyderabad summer and its subtle promise of a good heat stroke.

Anyway. What did I do in America that is worthy of being used to bore you in this post? Here is a list:

• I drove. To malls. To my office. To malls. To grocery stores. To more malls that were apparently better in some mysterious way than the malls I previously drove to. Based on this experience, I can tell you that the American highway system is the strangest in the world. There are these little white dashes on the road that they call lanes. Once you enter one, you are supposed to stick with it till death or an exit do you part. This made things difficult for me. It is not in my nature commit to relationships easily. So I tried to stir things up. I played Casanova with the highway system, jumping from lane to lane and straddling whichever ones caught my fancy. I stopped at green lights, sped past red lights, and all in all filled the lives of my fellow motorists with suspense and excitement. Many of them were appreciative and they honked to thank me as they passed by. Some were friendly enough to give me a thumbs-up, except, in their hurry to applaud me, they seemed to forget where their thumbs were and pointed a different finger instead.
• I immersed myself in foreign culture. The first thing we did after reaching Waltham, MA, was look out for an Indian supermarket. We saw a lot of Indians. We had exotic dishes like dosas, pav bhaji, and chai. We also found an Indian salon / beauty parlour where I mortgaged one of my kidneys for a haircut. When we felt homesick or needed to recover from this culture shock, we went to McDonalds.
• I made small talk. I have to admit, I didn’t understand it at first. Every time I met a stranger in the corridor or the elevator of my hotel, they seemed really concerned about me. “Hey, how are you today?” It was almost as if they knew I had been having trouble with my stomach. Jokes apart, this atmosphere of bonhomie, the collective complaining about the weather, and the equitable distribution of friendly and rotund strangers are things that I’ll really miss.
• I got compliments. You may not know it but I am hot stuff in America! Everywhere I went, people took one look at me and told me how good looking I am. “How cute!” “So Adorable!” “Look at that! Beautiful!” And etc. Some even went as far as to call me “Cute baby”. This seemed a bit much. I may not sport a full beard but I am hardly a baby. I took the compliment gracefully all the same. Americans can be eccentric sometimes. In hindsight, the fact that Sia was with me all of these times could have something to do with it. She must be a lucky mascot or something.  
• I witnessed a complete lack of couples making out in public. I grew up watching American television serials and they were really inspirational. They gave me hope that only if I could make it to this magical land, I would see people kissing in the streets, in clubs, in buses, in offices, in doorways, etc. Unlike in Hyderabad, where you would have to pay to enter a park and surreptitiously peek over bushes (and even then, the quality of the show was amateurish at best). But no such luck this time. The only kissing I came across was when I accidentally looked at myself in a mirror while holding a plate of blueberry muffins.
• I visited the historic Faneuil Hall and Quincy Market. This is where the greats of those days, the pillars of the American revolution, made rousing speeches and did their weekly groceries, although not necessarily in that order. 
• I took a tour of the living museum at Plymouth. Plymouth is the place where the second wave of settlers from England came in in 1600-something. As is recorded by history, they overstayed their visas and built a small but thriving village, inspiring other immigrants to join them. That trend has continued since. 

So. That was it. I both met and made a lot of very good friends. It was an awesome experience and I had more fun in these few short weeks than I had in the few short weeks preceding them. I highly recommend a trip to America to everyone. Like me you might come back a bigger person. And then like me, you may have to start shopping for new clothes that fit.