And, the last Sunday it was! I woke up with a start, brimming with happiness. A quick call home, "I will be back soon!", a quick shower, check out and there I have my cab rolling down the Santa Monica roads. I have a long journey stretched out in front of me. Sigh! the boring flight again...but yay! this time I know my welcoming incentive, and I smiled to myself.
Domestic terminals in the US are like bus stands. Everyone and everything is so laid back about a domestic flight here that you hardly feel you are going out of the gravitational force in sometime. Observation, a keen and cynic one to be precise, is a great way to pass off your time...and, so I did. Some quick observations, I jotted in my head:
1. US people are always dressed in the dullest of colors like black or brown or grey. But when it comes to their suitcases or nail colors or hair colors, they are bright ones, for example, bright red, fluorescent green, dazzling pink.
2. People here perpetually have some half eaten cake or peanut packet or rice crackers in their handbags on which they munch on when they are bored. US people, also, love carrying back a half eaten burger, or a leftover salmon fish off their plate.
3. People here move their heads backwards and forwards more than the amount of words they speak.
4. Girls here feel cold only on the upper part of their bodies. Most of them usually wear fat and huge jackets with the shortest of shorts below!
5. Indian settled in the US are sure to recognize your Indian origin and ask you if you know Hindi...and then ask you why you are going back.
6. Kids look prettier and have better skin than any grown up in the US, anytime!
7. Americans do not talk much. Even if they are traveling with families, they either read, or knit or stare at a distance...but they just do not chat. As a result, US airports are unusually quiet places.
8. Kids always carry separate tinsy and cutesy little bags for themselves, where, I am sure, most of their clothes do not fit into.
9. Chinese food in the US is alarmingly awful! They taste sweet, ketchup-y, floury, boiled and oiled! Yes, I did try a Chinese lunch and felt like throwing up!
10. You can be very excited at the thought of getting a day extra to live while going to the US...but while coming back, you will, anyways, have to give back that extra time, when you arrive in India a day later from the actual day you calculate in the US.
Enough of observations...I was waiting at the San Francisco airport waiting to fly away. After all the formalities, I was comfortably seated in an Emirates plane. Goodbye, I waved...till we meet again!
I slept unnaturally during my flight back home...so, missed half of the food that came. Later, I went knocking behind the cabin crew, asking shamelessly for food, who was gentle enough to appease my hunger with a frankie, a packet of rice crackers and steaming cups of tea. I was tired of making friends by then, and hardly spoke to anyone on the flight. And, soon we reached Dubai. Wow! sleeping makes it fast! I now know the trick.
And, the moment I reached the waiting area at Dubai for the flight back to Hyderabad...I felt ecstatic! As the skin colors of the people darkened around me, the languages became more difficult to understand yet sounded so very familiar (what with all the Telegu, Tamil and Marathi blabber around me, I didn't understand a word, yet I felt them to be my own! It's like getting back to your lost children after ages, when you hardly recognize them, yet you feel the love), the volume and amount of chatting going higher, smell of familiar food and of course the dresses turning more colorful...I felt a sense of immense joy and comfort in me...I looked around to see people who relate to me and to whom I relate to with the most subtle yet strong way - with a common word called 'India', with the common taste for spicy food, with the common reasons for laughing out loud, with the common reasons for having tears in our eyes, with the common reason to stand up every time we hear the "Jana Gana Mana"...anywhere.
In the next five hours, I was going out of Hyderabad airport, collecting my luggage, dreading the customs and listening to random Telegu and Hindi all around me. It all sounded like music to my ears now...and when the half-asleep security bluntly explained to me the way out, I just smiled and said, "I don't understand Telegu, bhaiya...but I somehow get what you want to say."
As I sped home in the cab at half past three in the whee hours of an early Tuesday morning, I was welcomed home with a cool bout of Hyderabadi rain and random calls from friends and family all over. I wondered for the hundredth time why is it I love India so much...is it because I look like the others around me here? the food? the warmth? the cool rain? the inability to understand so many Indian languages, yet feeling proud of the diversity? the fact that I can easily wave and stop a cab or know exactly which buses go where? the comfort I get in fighting with the auto drivers if they ask too much money? the friends who all think like me? a family who talks a lot when we go out on vacations?...well, these can't be the reasons.
...I love India for the big reason that I belong to her, and I can always feel how much she is mine every time I say, "I am an Indian". It's the love a tree has for the place it has grown up in...my love for India has grown over the years...all the years I learned to walk, talk, read, write, think, live and love. My roots have grown very deep inside this land of wonders, so deep that if you tug at it, it pains deep inside the heart...and if you pull it too hard to uproot it, I will live without one.
The hotel that I was supposed to put up at Santa Monica had an antique look, which was supposed to be very posh and chic...well, guilelessly, I found it more haunted than anything else. With narrow corridors, dimly lit with those crooked antique shades, ancient designer carpets and brown, ragged paper on the walls...I almost used to dread coming back to the hotel after work. I practically used to run to my door after the lift door closed behind me. I half imagined getting strangled on my way to my room and dying in this unknown land in the hands of some ancient spirit...whatever! my imaginations always run haywire.
Santa Monica was in the Los Angeles county in California, and the notable differences of this place with Orange County was definitely quite attractive and lovable. The people here go out, party and enjoy their evenings - and, that was a big thing after the lazy streets of Irvine. On my arrival here, tired as I was from the whole day at office and the journey, I did not want to waste a Friday evening. Me and the Indian colleague went out for a scrumptious dinner at an Indian place - not to mention how taken aback we were to see a plate of bhindi sabji (ladies' finger curry) costing us 15 dollars...why, we would be able to get a shop full of ladies' finger at half this price in India! We had a relatively better dinner that night (India! Ahh, the land of spices!) as we gorged on to Biryani (garnished, strangely, with green peas), tandoori roti and butter chicken. The sea was close by to our hotel and we thought of going for a midnight walk along the Santa Monica Pier. Friday night as it was, it was totally lit up by colorful lights...giant ferry's wheels and other different rides were in full swing, and it hardly seemed so late. We checked into a beach side shack and had one of the most delicious Margaritas. We waded into the freezing sea waters, sat on the wet sand and only remembered to look at the time when we saw the sea waters were slowly advancing towards us due to a high tide.
Walking in the US is always a pleasurable experience, so walking back along the pier, and then along the sideways lined with restaurants and bars to our 'haunted' hotel even after 1 in the night was something I adored. The weekend that followed was a fabulous one! Saturday, as we had planned, was spent at Universal Studios. Going there wasn't much fun as we couldn't get the desired bus and had to take a cab all the way to that place, and that definitely burnt a hole in our pockets...a huge one! But once there, things were pretty fascinating. The Studio tour, the 2 hour wait for it, the spider crawling on my bag (yes! even US has spiders to scare me!), the different rides and the photo clicking sessions took up the entire day. We had a weird lunch of mashed potatoes, chicken (which looked like yummy tandoori murgh, but turned out to be a boiled-burnt chicken piece with over-sweetened tomato ketchup) and loads of coke. In the intention of not burning another hole in our pocket, we took the train, and then a bus back to our hotel. I won't term it as a brilliant experience though, as we had a couple of drunk black guys staring at us on the station stairs, a bearded old man wanting money at the bus stand (poor as we were with converting every dollar into rupees, how could we help US beggars!), an old lady who refused to answer us when we asked for the bus number and a sad, cold dinner at a sidey restaurant.
We were experienced travelers on Sunday and we booked a tour with an agency to go to Disneyland. This was something I was really looking forward to and yes, Disneyland did not fail to amaze me! With all the awesome colors, rides, music...Snow White, Cinderella, Pirates, Frog Prince, Alice in Wonderland...I almost had a peek into my childhood! The day went by in a jiffy and after a gorgeous firework show at 9 in the night, we rushed for the return bus. Tired, sleepy and dusty as we were, we were amazingly happy at our day's experience in this fairy tale land. We reached without hassle unlike the previous day and walked past the wonderful Third Street Promenade. Now, this Promenade is another of those places which I will remember forever! It resembled...ahh...a little bit like Indian roads on Diwali. The Promenade is a long lane that winds past the middle of Santa Monica and connects the beaches on one side and the main road on the other. The whole place is always lit up with the most colorful and pretty lights (the best ones I have seen in US so far). The lane is lined with the most chic of shops and restaurants to the regular cheap eateries as well. And, the best part of this place, were the street performers! A guy who plays the guitar with such magic melody that you are bound to get glued to the place, a girl who dances like a feather, twirling and twisting all over the place, a singer who plays the most awesome country songs ever...well, the Promenade is a place where you can't just go off from! We returned late that day, grumbling at the thought of office the next day and dropping off into bed like we haven't slept for ages!
The whole of next week my colleague was away to another place for work. I was tired of adventuring by then and spent a decent hotel-office-hotel week. I tried new eating places here, made friends with two Zimbabwean cab drivers who spoke about cricket, became real chummy with the office canteen girl who would pack me a box of marshmallows everyday, walked along the Promenade almost everyday and sat staring at the sea waves every night from my hotel window. It's been three weeks now...I want to go home, to India, to Hyderabad...
That Friday, I felt an immense amount of happiness in me! Two more days, and I am off to my own place...and in spite of all that you may have to say about India, I was jumping at the thought of returning to the land of real colors, of sunshine, of loud laughter, spicy food, warm air, drizzling rain, friends, family, love and joy...my real fairy tale land!
My colleague was back that Friday and we had an Indian dinner, a pleasant walk, and grand plans to spend the last Saturday in Amrika! Saturday dawned bright, sunny and we spent the day in a lazy, random and exploring way. After a long morning at the beach, we went for shopping. We went for dinner to an Italian place along the Promenade where we cheered with sparkling wine for the great time we had in US and how it made us re-realize our love for India!
"Good night Amrika!" one last time I murmured before wriggling into the warm blanket. Tomorrow I am off...back to my nest, back to my comfort land!
I was dreading my first Friday evening in the US. It was around the end of the first week that I started missing my family and friends terribly. US is not a place where I can ever stay alone...on a second thought, I wondered, can I stay here for too long a time, even with friends and family? Nah! I decided...this is not a place to live, not at least for someone who is used to crowds, colors and brimming life...someone who is used to India!
The week had been quite an experience...an experience that ranged from working with people from a different ethnicity, knowing their ways of working, drinking sparkling water, buying vanilla scones for breakfast on my way to office, making cold sandwiches for afternoon snacks, walking back from office. Jet lag hit me around mid-week, and I had two full evenings snoring away peacefully after work. Everyday, I used to look forward to my post-dinner routine. After around 9 in the evening, I used to draw back the curtains of my bedroom window to get a full sight of the highway spreading itself under the night's sky, put on the local radio to some country music station and then jump into my bed beside the phone. Calling home was funny when every 'good night' of me was a 'have a good day' for them...updates on the weather, day spent, food eaten. Another thing I would really look forward to each day was a call from my friend in Hyderabad, after I hung up with my call home. Updates again, cribbing about work, missing India, what all I shopped, where all I went...and, how was Hyderabad doing, how much it rained, was there a bandh? I got a slice of an Indian day through these calls everyday, a flavor of my own life that I was so far from...
The early morning sunshine gushing in through my bedroom window used to wake me up before my alarm clock everyday. The cab that took me to office was never late and as the hotel receptionist would confirm me, it used to reach my place in just 3 mins. Thus went the first week, and it was Friday. One long week since I have come to this country...yeah, I miss home, I miss my India.
One of my colleagues invited me for dinner on Friday. I spent a great evening with her, her husband and their little pug, Tucker. We took out Tucker for a walk around their place. The pathway behind their house led to one of the most charming places in the whole of Orange County. We walked down till the banks of a calm lake that adorned the foothills of Santa Margarita mountains. Greenery, blue waters and an azure sky seemed the perfect ingredients to spice up the start of my weekend. I had one of the most tasty US dinners that day, yummy, cheesy pasta and white wine (the fact remained, it was Italian food that tasted so good in America).
The following weekend was great fun too. A trip to the San Diego Sea World on Saturday morning, followed by a breezy evening spent on the beaches of San Clemanto and fish tacos for dinner is more than I could have asked for. Early next morning, me and my colleague went out together to spend a lazy, girl-y Sunday. The Sunday started with vanilla sugar scones, black coffee, a drive down to the beaches and tripping over at the parking lot, tearing my jeans, cutting right into my knees! But my enthusiasm overpowered my knee injury as we drove into a beach side breakfast place at Crystal Cove. I re-iterate, the roadside places in the US definitely serve more yummy food - we gorged on to a plateful of spiced scrambled eggs, one huge red strawberry, English muffins and a big glass of steaming hot chocolate with a dollop of whipped cream on top! Post breakfast, we spent a good three hours on the Laguna Beach. From wading into the sea water, building sand castles, watching the sea gulls run after the worms, the crabs running into their holes, the waves lashing against the rocks, to clicking endless pictures, making foot prints on the sand, counting the waves and paying a penny to a beach side guitar-player-cum-singer...I enjoyed Sunday! We also visited this beach side candy shop where I bought taffies and candies for home.
Orange County Fair came next. I am still to decide between a US fair and our Indian fairs...the roundabouts, the people and the crowds made them quite similar. But well, food tastes heavenly at the fairs in my country...and our lunch at the Orange County Fair, consisting of a turkey burger, potato chips and coke was nothing near the yummy Indian spices. So, Indian fairs, I vote!
Tired like anything, I bought dinner on my way back as I was sure that I would hit the bed much earlier today. And, yeah, as I expected, I slept the whole evening only to be woken up by my regular phone calls. I loved my weekend...It was a true traveler's weekend, and I was happy to have seen so much!
The next week went by as usual...vanilla scones, my sweet Starbucks coffee, loads of work at office, random shopping, lovely walks, counting the decreasing traffic through my bedside window every night and falling asleep...To wake up to my last day at the Orange County.
I am traveling to Santa Monica today evening, to the other office I am supposed to visit. Santa Monica is a part of the Los Angeles County, near to Hollywood and Disneyland. Wow! I was already looking forward to the weekend!
First Monday in the US was comparatively exciting. I didn't feel the Monday blues and I was amazed at my enthusiasm to walk down all the way to office. A walk down US roads is always a nice experience...no street dogs, no scary road crossing experience, no bumpy roads to topple over...
Waking up next morning on a different bed, at a different place, in a different country is funny. For a split of a second I was lost, cold and stiff...but soon I pulled myself together, and was beaming at the morning that rushed in through the big window beside my bed.
For the first 22 years of my life, I had never stayed outside my home, Kolkata, never gone around anywhere alone and had only gone to not-so-far-away places for family vacations. And, then suddenly, I started seeing places! It's difficult at times, to adjust to a place outside the warm little shelter called home where you have stayed all through...but it can be a lot of fun too. And, for someone like me, who loves new cultures and languages, moving around is quite a bit of an experience.
It was one of those rush hours in the morning when the roads of the city are packed with the noisiest of traffic...numerous buses, cars, autos, taxis and bikes speeding on the tarred roads, deafening sounds of horns and the cluttering sounds of purses heavy with coins, course tip-top sounds of high heels or thumping of sneakers against the rough roads and the shouts of the conductors peeping out of the buses calling out for passengers.
