It's been nearly twenty months in the US now. I have not got to the stage where there are multiple occasions when I think to myself 'Last year this time, I was...', which is an obvious sign of longevity. Besides, having just experienced my first power outage in the US, I feel like I have now seen everything. From a domestic sense that is, not from a Vegas-Miami-Night To Remember sense. Or even a Grand Canyon-Statue of Liberty-Thomas Cook Tours sense. But from a Make Lunch-Launder Clothes-Watch Football for most weekends sense. And here's what has happened....
The first (and easiest) thing one gets used to is the standardization. Standardization means that you only need to get used to an activity once, and you can be certain that that you can follow the same steps the next time you do it. It's why you can land at any airport and look for signs to the same transport options out - rental car being the most popular by miles (pun unintended) and the most standardized. That means you don't have to know how to haggle for the auto in Chennai. Or that the cab is more popular than the auto in Mumbai. Or that Bangalore may or may not have a prepaid auto option, depending on the weather and potential traffic situation in the city. Of course, the problem occurs when the standardization is not too easy to figure out, and no one understands the non-standard version. So I don't know what a Clipper No. 6 means, and my friendly neighbourhood Vietnamese haircut lady does not know what 'Medium, enough to comb' means. What the heck is comb anyway?
The second (and slightly more difficult) thing to get used to is that your relationship with the outdoors, and openness in general is restricted to parks or the beach. It's not like you can pop down to the potti kadai, get one Lay's Magic Masala packet for that Sunday afternoon craving and curl up by the window with your book. Firstly, there's no Magic Masala, which sucks (come on Frito, missing a market here). Even if there was, you wouldn't get a small, one-serving packet. You will get a giant bag of potato, oil, salt and a sauce that goes on a 100 other foods as well. And last of all, there is no potti kadai. None. The best you can do is drive to a superstore, traverse an area half the size of Adyar and eventually give up and ask the assistant where to find some chips. By the time the whole ordeal is done, the afternoon has passed, you've lost your mood for the book and it's probably time to step out again. To run, or hike, or take DSLR photos. Because if you are outdoorsy in the US, you are either a runner or a photographer. Why else would you be outside! Which is the exact reaction I got during my first visit to a bank, where I had walked in the 100 degree Houston heat (yes, I referred to it in Fahrenheit, so sue me). It was a ten minute walk, but there was a freeway to cross. US visit tip: Don't 'cross' a freeway like it is Mount Road. Even under the freeway.
The third thing to get used to is time. Time, the same thing that gets stretched interminably in India, gets abused, not cared for, always assumed to not really mean what it actually says - that is very different. Of course we all know the Indian punctuality conundrum and how it is really difficult for us to wrap our heads around the fact that ten minutes later is actually a delay. But the more important timing changes are actually broader, and more regular. For example, lunch is at 11 AM. That's the time I'm usually brushing my teeth on weekends, but if you eat at that time 5 days a week, then you want to eat by then on weekends as well. And end up waking up on Saturday with a huge hunger pang. Then again, I'm also starting the work day at 7.45, so it's pretty fair to want to eat a big meal in about three hours. And of course, this cascades on to dinner times resulting in having 'supper' at 6.30. That is basically Aloo Bonda and chaaya time in India. So the stomach rebels for a while at this affront of having to eat a full sized meal at that time. Only for some time. After a while you stop questioning that 6.30 PM is the time to eat a full meal. Or asking '... and what else?' whenever someone offers 'salad' or 'sandwich' as a lunch option. So be it!
So here we are then. Twenty months and my biggest takeaways are potti kadais and aloo bonda, but they really are significant. I feel like I'm missing something from the whole Yoo Ess experience, but there's time yet to take some Patel pics, run the New York marathon, stand on the edge of the Grand Canyon, buy a DSLR camera...
The first (and easiest) thing one gets used to is the standardization. Standardization means that you only need to get used to an activity once, and you can be certain that that you can follow the same steps the next time you do it. It's why you can land at any airport and look for signs to the same transport options out - rental car being the most popular by miles (pun unintended) and the most standardized. That means you don't have to know how to haggle for the auto in Chennai. Or that the cab is more popular than the auto in Mumbai. Or that Bangalore may or may not have a prepaid auto option, depending on the weather and potential traffic situation in the city. Of course, the problem occurs when the standardization is not too easy to figure out, and no one understands the non-standard version. So I don't know what a Clipper No. 6 means, and my friendly neighbourhood Vietnamese haircut lady does not know what 'Medium, enough to comb' means. What the heck is comb anyway?
The second (and slightly more difficult) thing to get used to is that your relationship with the outdoors, and openness in general is restricted to parks or the beach. It's not like you can pop down to the potti kadai, get one Lay's Magic Masala packet for that Sunday afternoon craving and curl up by the window with your book. Firstly, there's no Magic Masala, which sucks (come on Frito, missing a market here). Even if there was, you wouldn't get a small, one-serving packet. You will get a giant bag of potato, oil, salt and a sauce that goes on a 100 other foods as well. And last of all, there is no potti kadai. None. The best you can do is drive to a superstore, traverse an area half the size of Adyar and eventually give up and ask the assistant where to find some chips. By the time the whole ordeal is done, the afternoon has passed, you've lost your mood for the book and it's probably time to step out again. To run, or hike, or take DSLR photos. Because if you are outdoorsy in the US, you are either a runner or a photographer. Why else would you be outside! Which is the exact reaction I got during my first visit to a bank, where I had walked in the 100 degree Houston heat (yes, I referred to it in Fahrenheit, so sue me). It was a ten minute walk, but there was a freeway to cross. US visit tip: Don't 'cross' a freeway like it is Mount Road. Even under the freeway.
The third thing to get used to is time. Time, the same thing that gets stretched interminably in India, gets abused, not cared for, always assumed to not really mean what it actually says - that is very different. Of course we all know the Indian punctuality conundrum and how it is really difficult for us to wrap our heads around the fact that ten minutes later is actually a delay. But the more important timing changes are actually broader, and more regular. For example, lunch is at 11 AM. That's the time I'm usually brushing my teeth on weekends, but if you eat at that time 5 days a week, then you want to eat by then on weekends as well. And end up waking up on Saturday with a huge hunger pang. Then again, I'm also starting the work day at 7.45, so it's pretty fair to want to eat a big meal in about three hours. And of course, this cascades on to dinner times resulting in having 'supper' at 6.30. That is basically Aloo Bonda and chaaya time in India. So the stomach rebels for a while at this affront of having to eat a full sized meal at that time. Only for some time. After a while you stop questioning that 6.30 PM is the time to eat a full meal. Or asking '... and what else?' whenever someone offers 'salad' or 'sandwich' as a lunch option. So be it!
So here we are then. Twenty months and my biggest takeaways are potti kadais and aloo bonda, but they really are significant. I feel like I'm missing something from the whole Yoo Ess experience, but there's time yet to take some Patel pics, run the New York marathon, stand on the edge of the Grand Canyon, buy a DSLR camera...
