Lost In Translation

Quite ominously, the first time I arrived in the U.S. was also the first time I ever had a 28 hour long birthday, from Delhi to Frankfurt and then to San Francisco airport. I wore a beautiful white kurta, that by the end of the journey looked like I had just been pulled out of the tumble-dry cycle.

"Welcome to the United States of America....and oh, Happy Birthday, as well!" said the unusually friendly immigration officer as he stamped my passport.

At a crammed McDonald's cafe inside the airport, I stood in line with an Indian gentleman in front of me.

"Would you like to make a meal out it?" the lady taking the orders said to the elderly Indian man.

"Of course I want to make a meal out of it!!" he replied in a thick Indian accent, clearly surprised by the question, "What did you think I was going to do with a burger?"

"No, sir," she replied, pointing to the menu board, "Would you like chips and drinks with your order, you know, a meal..." she added, like she were talking to a five year old.

I felt bad for the desi uncle. Little did I know, I was in for some pretty interesting linguistic adventures of my own.

Once outside the airport, I felt ever so small in front of the wide roads, the tall buildings, the endless trailer trucks and even in front of McDonald's piled Big Mac.

I was a big city girl, from Bombay, but had never travelled beyond Shimla before and it was overwhelming no matter how prepared I thought I had been.

At the apartment complex, I asked for the lift and was ushered by a burly maintenance man. I felt a breeze on my face as we stepped out into the parking lot.

"Hmm, a lift outside the building?" I wondered silently, "How would that work?"

Moments later we were standing in front of a large crane hoisting scraps in the middle of a construction site behind the buildings. Although weary and jet lagged I was alert enough to know that the crane wasn't meant for humans.

"What do you need to see the lift for?" the maintenance man asked me with a puzzled frown on his face.

I told him.

"Ahh, you mean the elevators!" he guffawed. I felt smaller.

I slowly adjusted to the isolation and slept in my apartment, craving sounds of traffic underneath my window. At the end of the month, when I showed up to turn in the rent, my landlady studied the dark circles around my eyes,

"Are the noisy washing machines behind your apartment giving you sleepless nights, young lady?" she enquired kindly, "I could request the tenants to stop doing their laundry so late."

She looked startled when I turned to her mortified and pleaded her not to.

"That's the only sound I've got!" I lamented pitifully tugging at her arm.

A Sunday morning after a crazy first month at work, I sat in my office with my new friend Tim, ravenously hungry.

"Let's go to a hotel" I said to him.

Tim looked up surprised and grew uncomfortable as I eagerly waited for his response. He was obviously struggling to muster the right answer.

"Like, what do you mean...you want to get a room?" he finally whispered, leaning in, alarming me considerably.

"Restaurant, restaurant, you know for breakfast...that's what I meant, not hotel" I corrected myself immediately, turning a bright shade of pink.

I was thoroughly embarrassed and Tim looked a tad disappointed.

Once at iHOP, the pretty, blonde waitress stumped me by asking me how I wanted my eggs.

"Umm...fried" I answered, gingerly, checking her reaction and when she frowned, hurriedly changed my response to "scrambled".

She nodded and I heaved a sigh of relief.

"Boiled, sunny side up, over easy, over done, scrambled, poached, eggs Benedict", Tim coached me as I tried to spruce up my very bland scrambled eggs.

"Boiled, sunny side up, over and easy..." I began repeating like a good student and noticed Jeff giggling.

"Not over AND easy, you goof. Over easy" he chuckled.

"What's wrong with over and easy?" I asked offended and slightly frustrated by the nitt-pickiness.

"Well, nothing's wrong with it," Tim replied, a mischievous look in his eyes, "just that, that's not how I like my eggs...it's how I like my girls" he finished with a wink and a grin, ducking as I brought my purse down over his head.