Thursday, December 15, 2011

I am not the master of spices

“Sorry, it was right next to your face” said the young voice that removed the McDonald’s bag away from me and towards her.

The voice belonged to a young woman, perhaps a college student, with curly blonde hair.  And next to her was another woman of comparable age, with unmistakable Indian heritage.

“No problems at all.  Didn’t bother me one bit” I replied, before biting into the chicken wrap that I had bought at the McDonald’s at the Los Angeles International airport, while waiting for my flight.

“Where are you visiting from?” I asked them.

“From Australia. We have been traveling for five and a half months, and now we are on our way back home, via London.”

“Wow, almost six months away, and now right on time for Christmas at home.  Where is home in Australia?”

“Perth. We graduated from the university and wanted to do a six month travel.  We might not again in life get time off like this, and we decided to take the plunge.”

The blonde had completed her occupational therapy degree, while the Indian was a chemical engineering graduate.

“So, after six months of travel, do you remember your differential equations?” I asked with a chuckle.

“No way” was her immediate response.  “I am actually a little bit worried about preparing for job applications and the interview.”

“Well, hey, you now have stories to tell at the interviews—you can talk about your travel adventures.”

“Yes, between this travel, where we covered Europe, Canada, and America, and my previous travels in Asia, I can.”

She added that her parents settled down in Western Australia, after their beginnings in Goa and then a merchant navy life that made wanderers out of them. 

As is typical of their generation, they were doodling on the iPad even while holding an involved conversation with me.   

I, on the other hand, had a tough time multitasking merely having my food and talking with them!  I was reminded of the joke about President Gerry Ford that he couldn’t chew gum and jog and the same time.  At least, he was a president, dammit!

It seems strange, even to me, when I write that I was consciously enjoying every bite of the chicken wrap and fries from McDonald’s.  But, there was a reason: for the next three months, I will be eating Indian foods.

Every single day.   

After nearly twenty-five years in the US, I have settled into an eating habit that has no place for Indian food on a daily basis, and that too the authentic dishes.  Thus, I was set on relishing every bit of the chicken wrap from McDonald’s! Oh heavens, from McDonald's!

The two girls, though, seemed to be having a great time eating and talking and doing everything else.  I am pretty sure that I was far from upbeat like these two when I was their age.   

I doubt if the world can handle seven billions of such peppy youngsters, which means that there is more than a need for the dull and boring people like me. Talk about my niche, eh!

The blonde told the Indian, who was continuing to fidget with the iPad, “forget it” and then turned to me and asked “is there any free internet at the airport?”

I laughed. “In America, we joke that nothing here is free.”  I added that typically large airports do not offer free internet service, while most smaller airports do.

“In Vegas there was” the blonde said.  The Indian added “in Charlotte and Miami too.”

I could not imagine why two young tourists from Australia ended up in Charlotte!  But, I didn’t ask them either.

“So, what is your takeaway about the US?”

The blonde had an instant answer: both her thumbs went up. The Indian agreed by nodding her head.

I wished them a good flight, and they returned the compliments.

We headed our separate ways.

As I walked towards the security-check, I became more worried that I was not ready for three months of Indian spices!

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