I am busier on my “vacation” than I am in everyday life. We’ve come to the USA to visit my Dad and celebrate his 90th birthday; sell paintings and see friends.
I am slightly overwhelmed on this trip – I am talking all the time, in English. In Italy, Blair and I go days without much conversation, so this American chitchat about the weather and driverless cars has rendered me speechless. I have enjoyed it a lot. Even more, I like the conversation of America: men across the street working and listening to old Jimi Hendrix on the radio. They talk about their cars, and what they did this weekend. It’s like a movie sound-track, slow and easy.
We visited and laughed with friends in North Carolina this last week. Sometimes I feel North Carolina is a microcosm of the whole United States. It is white and black and brown, with universities and theatres, barbecues and fine dining. Houses are really beautiful there, and the hospitality is unbeatable.
Our baseball show is on display in High Point, NC – we saw it ourselves for the first time on Thursday. A man was looking at the show while we were there. He was smiling, so we introduced ourselves. He was actually from Danbury, Connecticut, and the Danbury Westerners figured prominently in many paintings. It was magical.
Harika experienced that magic with two friends in the DC area, who accustomed her to the finest food, delivered thrice daily. We are glad. While she was eating steak, we chose hotdogs with cole slaw and chili, which we never get in Italy; and hamburgers. We had fabulous southern fare: fried chicken; spiced green beans, crowder peas and peach cobbler, which was maybe the best dessert of ever. Yum.
When we come to the USA it is as if we are visiting an exotic place. I bought shoes, big enough to fit. I read the New York Times. I sit on my porch, I go swimming and I think about Italy.