There is a rhythm to Dubai which I did not think I would miss. My day there was punctuated by the call to prayer, the Adhān. The muezzin declares that God is great five times a day – the musical recitation travelling through the humid air. Today, in our temporary accommodation in Mountain View, not paying a lot of attention, at the edge of my hearing another sound started coming, approaching through space and for a minute I thought that I could hear the long drawn out “aaaaaaa” of Allahu Akbar. Instead, it was the deafening Caltrain, on the dot, every fifteen minutes, calling the faithful to the city and from there back to the suburbs. Chug – chug, the machine of industry thunders on. Welcome, to the United States of America.
We took a nice long break in Greece before boarding our flight to here. I wanted to avoid having Philip in Dubai while all our belongings were being boxed up and so we went to Athens where he described a painting to me at the National Gallery – leaving me equally bemused and smug. “I like the sunlight around the door” he said, when I could only see the corridor beyond. I managed to sneak in some drinks in central Athens, some much needed moments of tenderness, before making the trip to the Greek north and the chaotic exuberance of my uncle’s birthday party. Such are the things Greece is made of for me; nights, songs and an unreliable memory.
Regardless…
Our flights and arrival went swimmingly – my warnings that the border control could take over an hour not being required after all. I take it as a good sign that all our flights were on time, turbulence was minimal and the passport lines took us less than 20 minutes. Even the kind man at the car rental took pity on us and our huge pile of suitcases and upgraded our booked puny car with something a bit roomier. The only thing that fate cannot mess with being biology, we did spend three days exhausted by the jet-lag even though yours truly made it to the office every day – the novelty having too strong a pull.
Having Philip with us, our first week had to be about practicalities like how things work around the apartment (what the hell is a garbage disposal) and where can we find the ingredients we like to cook with. Takeaway with a child in tow is not a good idea and so I cooked two terrible meals until I could understand the kitchen appliances, go buy what I needed and find a international grocery store with real spices. I’ve been delighting my colleagues with my observations on grocery stores (they have confirmed that the Whole Foods crowd is indeed the Waitrose crowd).
Even our visits to apply for a social security card and open a bank account went by swiftly, my employer having set us up with a relocation expert who just took us by the hand. I do recall processes being harder to navigate when I moved to the United Kingdom 22 years ago so I do have immense appreciation for our lovely relocation guide, who came to pick us up in an enormous truck causing Philip to inquire what is the white empty thing at the back of “this car”.
We did find time for some fun eventually – visiting Cuesta Park with its enormous trees and strolling down Santana Row on a Sunday, bands playing and the crowd enjoying the weather. There’s a wonderful sunshine here these days with a light breeze, a Mediterranean spring almost, as we imagine it before the scorching temperatures of recent years rather than the actual thing.
Like everywhere, we also found people. I’m never more grateful to technology than when I travel or find myself in a new place because without it I would not have had friends already in this place, ready to give advice, invite us to lunch, bring us burgers on a Friday so that we can partake in their family tradition. Once more, we found the start of a tribe around us and I am grateful.
It’s the second Tuesday in Mountain View as I write this. Philip has started school and normal operations have resumed at work – this is an early culture that messes with my night owl vibes. It feels familiar and unfamiliar at the same time (what are dryer sheets) but there’s no mistaking the wonderfulness of the place.
There are now things to do, people to meet and foods to try. There are Greek traditions to uphold – with Easter coming up especially. There are miles to travel in this new place, to parts of it that are more unfamiliar, expanses to drive through – like in the films we grew up with. This is how I know I’m getting older though. I’m not chomping at the bit. I seem to also be seeing the sun shining around the door rather than the corridor beyond, like my son. I’m carefully setting things up, I’m organizing a routine to anchor us around and then, there will be time, America, to discover this thing you call a soul.
