Our member Ms A. Paul has visited USA several times, and over the years, through keen observations, she has formed an interesting impression of the society there. She shares with us her ideas about life in the Indian diaspora in New Jersey.
In May this year I visited my children, both of whom live in North America. My son is based in Toronto, Canada, and my daughter is in New Jersey. I flew from India to New York, landing at JFK International airport. From there it took me a little over an hour to reach my daughter’s house in Bridgewater. I did not travel with a Canada visa this time, so my son made the eight-hour drive to visit us for a week.
I have been travelling to the USA for many years, so I am used to their ways now. But when I went there for the first time, it took me a while to get used to certain customs such as the measurement system. I was used to the kilometre-litre system of measurement, whereas there they use the Imperial system, measuring distances in miles and liquids in gallons.
Most purchases there are made based on self-service. This also was new to me in the beginning. For instance, there are no attendants at petrol pumps. One has to pay and fill up the tank oneself. At the most there might be some high-school or college students working part-time at such places.
I found the regular American to be very amiable. It is always pleasant, when I’m there, to be greeted by strangers with a friendly hello. One thing I find extremely nice is the way vehicles in the suburbs will stop and the drivers will wave at pedestrians, signalling them to cross.
As we always do on my trips to New Jersey, we made a trip to the Atlantic Ocean. It is awe-inspiring. Huge waves crashed incessantly on the shore, and even though it was summer the winds were very chilly. I was able to sit there only for a little while before hurrying back to the car. My children are used to it by now. They jumped into the water and went for a swim. Not me – I guess I am far too Indian to be used to such temperatures.
My grandchildren’s generation are growing up to be far more American than Indian. My daughter ensures they speak in Bengali whenever there’s a get-together at home, but in several Indian families over there I have seen that the new generation can barely speak Indian languages. Perhaps the generations after them will gradually lose their Indianness.
A long time ago I had the chance to visit the World Trade Centre before 9/11. I remember feeling like a bird as I looked at the group of small islands that made up New York and New Jersey. I have returned home now and am at a great distance from the USA. But I look forward to flying back soon, like a bird, to my daughter and son.

(As narrated to Support Elders by our member)

Defying conventions, our member Mrs K. Roy travelled all by herself as a student in the USA, back in 1985. Here she recalls a memorable trip to the Grand Canyon.
The first time I travelled to the USA, in 1985, I knew I had to visit the Niagra Falls and the Grand Canyon. In order to visit the Grand Canyon, I needed to go through Las Vegas. I was a student back then and was travelling solo. There were two options: I could either do a helicopter ride and be back in Las Vegas by the end of the day or spend a night at the Canyon. I was travelling on a tight budget but thought to myself that it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and that I should spend a night at the Canyon. That way I would be able to enjoy the sight of the sun setting and rising over the landscape.
Because I was the only one travelling solo in our group I got to sit next to the helicopter—it was the best seat! The sight of the Colorado river winding its way through the valleys is one to behold. Our helicopter tracked the course of the magnificent river which was wide in some places and narrow in others. The splendid colours of the mountain—yellow, red, magenta, purple, and white—were like nothing I’d seen before.
We spotted a summit which was shaped like a mandir, and the pre-recorded commentary informed us that it was called the Brahma Temple. There was another one called Vishnu Temple. I was intrigued by their choice of names.
We travelled all day, flying high above peaks and low, closer to the river. Around evening some of us were dropped off in a valley, near a few hotels. The rooms at the hotels were well beyond my budget, but I had no option. After a quick trip to a viewing point to see the sunset, I returned to my hotel to find that they were screening a film on the discovery of the Canyon. What luck!
Next morning we were to be taken to see the sunrise. When I walked out to the entrance, I saw tea, coffee, and biscuits kept ready on a table. I marvelled at the thoughtfulness and hospitality of the hotel staff. Once we had helped ourselves to some beverage, we were driven to the viewing point where I saw one of the most memorable sunrises of my life. On the way back I chatted with my fellow travellers who were surprised that I had travelled alone all the way from India.
In the afternoon we left the Canyon and were flown back to Las Vegas in a helicopter. It was a wonderful trip. I remember my flight above the rocky landscape and the thinning and thickening of the Colorado river like it was yesterday.