United States - Early memories

I really wanted a large ninja turtles action figure at the Paris airport.

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I was excited to see large expanses of white below us while flying over Greenland and Canada.

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We landed in SFO. I was mesmerized by a sea of taillights in perfect rows driving south on 101. Headlights were arranged just as neatly on the other side of the road. ONLY on the other side.

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I befriended my little cousin with the help of a small green windup toy car. It was part of a bag of toys and games the flight attendants gave me.

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Barney's "I love you, you love me, we're a happy family" song is forever etched in my head. The show was regularly playing for my little cousin.

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We were taught about toilet paper.

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We moved into a charming townhouse apartment across the street from the Apple campus. Living area downstairs and two bedrooms upstairs. It had one and a half bathrooms. The half bath didn’t have a bath.

There was a well maintained green lawn out front on our tree-lined street. One of those trees fell onto the front yard during an El Niño. They cut down many others after that.

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Strangers smiled and said hello when we walked outside.

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Halloween was the first American holiday I experienced. It quickly became my favorite. It helped that this was the only time you'd see crowds of people out on the streets, a sight that was no longer a daily occurrence.

A friend got me into pumpkin carving. He taught me how to pick a side and how warts and scars gave a face character.

One Halloween, a neighbor offered a giant jar of pennies and let us take as many as we could fit in one fist. I got over a dollar, more than any of my friends.

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"What is this waitress carrying?"

"A tray."

"Wow, your English is so good!"

I wasn't placed in ESL.

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Indras**t

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"Indians are so smart."

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I got a B on my first Science test. My teacher was surprised. I was disappointed.

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The sidewalks were large and paved. No one used them.

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People would go skiing on vacations and return with broken legs. It seemed like a bad idea.

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In my first week here, we met a very "American" Indian family. They spoke with a strong American accent that sounded unnatural. The mom told me that I should go by "Jet"; it'd be easier here. I was offended.

People now call me Indy.