biting into the big apple

'welcome to the united states.' it's rather bizarre how a sentence that simple can be so evocative for so many. as i get ready to step off the massive aircraft that has brought me to this country, i look around to see middle-aged women smile, young students look overawed, and elderly indian men scratch their beard in feigned nonchalance. all in response to the pilot's clipped welcome.

immigration, contrary to all i have been told, is a breeze. getting to the car park, 10 minutes from the terminal, isn't.

for a guy like me, born and bred in india's only exciting city, mumbai, the weather is a bit of a shock. it's like waking up from a long night's sleep to have your head dunked into a bucket of cold water. the air cuts through what i assumed was a warm jacket. it reaches under my arms and shakes me, as if laughing at what the jacket cost, knowing how ineffective its impressive price tag will be when confronting the new york elements.

and then, the car jumps into traffic, the manhattan skyline looms, and a great many sitcoms jump to life around me.

it is a tribute to the sheer power of american television that a whole new culture has been made so decipherable across continents. nothing surprises the first-time visitor -- not the ny taxicabs, not the delis strewn across every street, not street signs that read '43 w' and '24th st', not the blue nypd vehicles, not the hot-dog vendors, their carts smoking.

my apartment, in the heart of manhattan, has a concierge who gives me the once-over as i step across his line. there is the all-pervasive smell of indian cooking emanating from one of the studios on my floor. outside, the empire state building vanishes into fog, its twinkling lights playing hide-and-seek with the clouds. people of all colour walk the street, hands in their coat-pockets, dressed to the nines.

as the beatles said, way back in 1964 on their first trip here, 'so, this is america.'