With love, from across the seas

Over a period of time, I guess it has become a habit for me to resist anything new. I could not have been any less enthused about this trip. The apprehension of encountering everything new, of travelling across oceans leaving behind all things familar along with encountering my little one's put-on brave countenance, made me feel as if I was deserting home and hearth."The next time it will be you and I together exploring this huge continent", is what I kept telling myself whenever the thought came upon me.

The day finally dawned and it felt like the last day on the face of earth. I rushed through packing, some last minute shopping. Thanks to my mom and dad, a bright new shiny red suitcase was waiting to be loaded. By eleven in the night, I shut the suitcase after throwing in that last bit of randomly chosen piece of clothing. The cab was arranged for. I had some three hours to 'sleep' and sleep I did... broken, yet sleep it was! It was on my way to the airport that the truth hit me: I was on my way to the USA...How great was that?! The excitement slowly started to build in; through the queues at the check - in, the security and immigration. Once safely boarded, though the drudgery of a 24 hour journey sent torture signals all through my being, the final destination and its possibilities of bringing in anything, within and beyond imagination, won over it. I somehow managed to wish the time away by watching movies and sleeping and looking around at my not-so friendly neighbourhood. I wanted to be at my courteous and considerate best and hence refused to get up from my window seat for more than once in the first ten hours; thereby asumingly assuring myself a seat on the right side of the Father and possibly another one in the orthopaedic department of some hospital in Bangalore once I got back. (My feet seemed as if they were bursting out of my shoes and my back was a mess making any step taken an effort). I decided to be less 'nice' next time onwards.

San Francisco

The airport did not have anything 'wow' about it. But it was my first contact with the new land and its people and I was intrigued. The song that "I left my heart in San Francisco" kept ringing in my ears for some strange reason :) Would the city woo me like a persistent lover? I was to find out.

Morgan Hill : The name sounded something like out of Sound of Music and I loved the place at the very first sight. Quiet, smiling and content... It took care of my anxiety of being in a strange land and I knew that I would feel home here, even if it was for just ten days. A quaint little town with a cute layout of shops, restaurants and polite strangers, I enjoyed browsing through the streets and letting myself be.There was a sense of calm which slowly set in to me, without even me being aware of it. There was absolute silence on the roads; the whirring of the motor vehicles not withstanding. For someone from a city like Bangalore where the honking of vehicles was something you took for granted this was a shocking change to the senses; auditory and olfactory reigning supreme.

I didn't want to run and cover all the tourist spots. For me being in a place that I found comfort and interest in made all the difference. I stayed put at Morgan Hill except for a one day tour to San Francisco to witness the magnificient Golden Gate Bridge and breathe in the sights and sounds at The Fisherman's Wharf. That was an impressive day. The city appealed to me with its elegance and sense of freedom. My first exposure to a bunch of 20 something nude men and women on bikes across the street was a sight which snapped something within me. Life is yours and you live it responsibly. Were they out there with a message? I wasn't able to find out. The winding and crooked streets were squealingly delightful and as I write this I can relive the excitement at going up and down those roads.

Food was something which I boldly experimented with, during my short stint in the US. I was even brave enough to try Korean, a variety of Sushi, some Thai as well as Mexican alongside the regular American. Nothing beats the Clam Chowder at the Fisherman's Wharf with a mug of chilled beer. It would have been the effect of the beautiful city at sunset on a first time visitor. But this memoir would be incomplete if I didn't mention the famous Ghirardelli Square; a treat to my cocoa craving palate. San Francisco's very own chocolate which is incomparable and almost indescribable.

Though the journey was all about a biography and associated research, for me it was also a time for a great deal of introspection, of exploration and of letting myself be. It's only when you try to do that, that you realise it's not as easy as it's projected to be. Looking back, I wouldn't have traded this trip for anything in the world. It was shameful to even think of how close I had come to dread and almost turn away from it. On my way back I had the strains of the same song in my head and by then I was sure that I had lost my heart to the city.