I crawled out of bed and tried to open my tired eyes. The sun had not even come up yet, but I was still running late. I had to pick up my pen pal from the airport. We were assigned pen pals at my summer camp, and I decided to bring mine, Siddhartha, to America. It was nerve racking because we had yet to meet face to face, but from the letters Siddhartha seemed like a very interesting person. I knew exactly where I wanted to take him. I know he doesn’t like any places with loud noises and a lot of people, he’s used to being in more quiet areas. I wanted to give him a little taste of both aspects of American Culture, so I’m taking him to buttery brook, and Boston.
“Hello Siddhartha!” I greeted him loudly at the airport. I’m so happy he sent me a picture of himself with his last letter, or else I wouldn’t have known who he was.
“Hello Nicole, It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. You have been a great pen pal.” Siddhartha responded softly. Wow, even the airport is noisy. American sure is crazy. I walked him over to my car, and helped him with his bags. As soon as we hit the road, I Started to tell him all about America.
“So America is a pretty amazing place. You can guarantee that in any town you go to there’s gonna be somewhere delicious to get food, something pretty to look at, and...” I stopped suddenly, realizing Siddhartha was fast asleep. When we reached my house, I gave him a nudge and brought him inside.
“So, what are we doing first?” Siddhartha asked. Please pick something calming..
“I’m taking you to one of my favorite places, it’s a park close by.” We hopped in the car and reached our first destination within a matter of a few minutes. We started walking around, and immediately I could see Siddhartha’s smile. This place smells wonderful.
“What is that smell, its uplifting.” Siddhartha exclaimed.
“That’s just fresh cut grass..I guess i forgot how good it smells. That's a very common smell in any suburban place spring through fall.” I explained. I myself, appreciated the flower beds and the strange smell of hot rubber swing seats. Siddhartha and I swung on swings for only a minute, and he decided he didn’t like them too much. So instead, we walked to the brook and took a seat on the bridge. He sat with his eyes closed, in some meditation form that I didn’t know how to do. So I sat with my legs crossed and tried to imitate what he was doing. He suddenly got up, and mentioned how he was hungry. Luckily I brought us a picnic lunch. Siddhartha sat down and started eating, but he had his eyes close.The birds sound beautiful, and this food tastes so good. How could anybody want to spoil it with talk?
“Okay Siddhartha I’m glad you enjoyed, but it’s time to go. We need to beat some traffic on our next destination.” I explained.
“Where are we going? Why can’t we stay here?” Siddhartha looked disappointed.
“This is one beautiful aspect of American culture, but it’s not the only one Siddhartha. There is something called a “night life” that I think you could grow fond of.”
“I’m not sure about that. But I supposed I'll give it a try.” Siddhartha looked a little worried, but I assured him it was nothing out of the ordinary, for an ordinary American that is.” This time, the car ride was filled with questions. Siddhartha seemed thrilled by all that was going on around him, and we were just on the highway! I’ve never seen so many cars in one place.
“So where do people find the money to buy all of these fancy things?” Siddhartha asked. I didn’t know how to answer the question at first, I couldn’t believe something that I was so used to was actually interesting or even puzzling to others.
“Well..you go to school until you have learned enough to get a real job. You work a lot, save a lot, and buy things you need or want along the way. There isn’t really any other meaning to most Americans lives other than being successful. Its the American Dream, Siddhartha.” He looked at me, and then turned back to the window. Finally we were in Boston. We went to The Cheesecake Factory of dinner, and I told Siddhartha about where we were. So much food,how can one even desire to eat this much? I told Siddhartha all about how we were in the Prudential center, and I brought out a map and circled the main attractions like Fenway Park and Faneuil Hall. How can so many things be in one place? We walked around at night, and watched a street performer.
“My head is spinning, there’s so much around me how can anybody even process all of this?” Siddhartha asked frantically. This is a lot different than the excitment i’m used to.
“Siddhartha it isn’t always about processing it, it’s about just living it and experiencing it.” Without even realizing, Siddhartha has already started to walk away. He was headed towards the car..and the night was hardly over! “Okay I get it, you’re don’t here. I’m just glad you got to see what else is in America.”
“I like loud sometimes I must admit, but this isn’t my type of place.” Siddhartha said nicely. We started on our journey home. From all the excitement, Siddhartha fell asleep again. I was left to sit in the car and think about the day. I came to an assumption that Siddhartha liked Buttery Brook much better than Boston, even though he did admit he likes loud sometimes. It was awesome to finally spend some time with Siddhartha, and I hope he comes to visit again. Maybe one day I'll go visit there, but I'm not sure how fun it would be. Regardless, if Siddhartha comes back, I think I'll take him to my uncle’s lake house. He would love it.
