a moment in the life on an legal alien

29 July 2004, passenger plane entering, New York, JFK
“ …please ensure that your seats are in the upright position and…”
I am offered my last taste of biltong (dried raw meat) by one of four young guys in the middle seats to my right as they try to stuff down a month’s supply of a traditional snack before reaching this port of entry, forbidding any perishable foods from foreign countries.

1 August 2004, Sunday! What does a church look like in North America?
I pull the dark green towel over my face in an attempt to filter out the day-and-night light and droning of yellow cabs crawling along the Avenue of the Americans, The Village, Manhattan. So this is what jet lag is like: feeling brain-dead when the sun-shines outside and getting a head-ache as soon as your nose hits the sticky humidity outside the freezing air-conditioned buildings.

2 August 2004, my 1st Starbucks coffee under code orange
With gratitude for waking up after my first experience of a Korean diner with my hosts, I inspect the collateral damage inflicted upon my winter-white skin by the local colony of mosquitoes. Hmm, the locals appear addicted to my applied Peaceful Sleep (indigenous insect repellant). Two more days of surviving the city with its dirty sidewalks where fellow pedestrians don’t look you in the eye. I still do not understanding why I am supposed to go downstairs, across the road and then pay someone else to get me my first cup of tea for the day. Don’t Americans use electrical kettles at home?

3 August 2004, in transition…with the entire Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir!
Flying over suburban Chicago, I am relieved to see some “natural” vegetation again. Upon arrival I am frantically sent from one point of a very large U-shaped building to the other. The load of my earthly treasures are protesting against my shoulder blades as I consume three open chairs waiting to board a plane to Texas. Everybody seems to be chewing gum. I am dizzy and tired. On board I’m seated besides a thirteen year old boy all dressed in pink. He’s on his way home after visiting with his dad for the holiday. The practical jokes end as the movie screens fold back before descending into Dallas.

…still 3 August 2004, waiting for the shuttle with a soldier from Arkansas
Recognizing the Beach Boys in the air outside the terminal makes me feel welcomed into the South. My heart is sad as I wave to this young father as he takes a mournful drag from his cigarette. It is a sunny Tuesday afternoon, as he leaves for another desert country. I like the heat and openness down here. I would never have survived the winters had I decided to go to Moody!!

4 August 2004, landing on planet DTS…
“…Huston, this is Tranquility…”
I must be early. There’s nobody else to be seen outside.
Student services are amazing and I am ushered into the smartest dwelling I’ve ever been privileged to live in. I’ll be sleeping on the floor and eating out of a mug, but I feel like the Queen nevertheless. The living area looks out upon a pool ,shimmering in peace before the on-slaught of bopping babies, tired mothers and tanned girls.

17 August 2004, boot camp : immigration laws, identity theft & free wallets
The annual gathering of American visa holders for Fall 2004 is now in session : official representatives round up the sheep and explain everything before two ’o clock. Tomorrow the sheep will be driven to the social security office and we’ll become part of the manual-mass-monitoring-machine. If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to apply for phone lines, electricity services and a banking card in two to three weeks. For now we should just be patient in our disconnected, dark little world until further notice.

19 August 2004, it’s raining people!
Excited, they’ve come from all the corners of this country! We’ve presented ourselves as western as possible with the outfits available this side of the Pacific. Everywhere you look, you see arms, food, drinks and confused people. We hear awe-inspiring messages from giants who’ve gone before us. We learn songs and names I’ve never heard of and we are sent home with the anticipation of a tomorrow, drenched in tests of all sorts…

two weeks somewhere in 2004, “…two lost souls swimming in a fish-bowl…”
It seems like class started half a year ago and I’m still trying to decipher the titles of my text books! Only eight days of formal training and I’ve learned much about myself, the orbiting sub-cultures of Satellites: Swiss, Lincoln and Sterns, and that with only one eye open you can see further than most people do with both.

- White Chocolate -