I walked through clearly marked lanes to the baggage claim counter and into the immigration counter and out of the gate of the airport to set my foot in the US of A.

I even hailed a cab which safely deposited me into the hotel where I was supposed to stay, for now.

At the hotel the door knob was to my left. Which was not quite right. Which means, as Sherlock Holmes would have deduced, it was wrong. And to make things worse, the knob also opened in the counter ( or was it clockwise) clockwise direction. But it did open. I had been warned that in this country, a lot of the things are the reverse of what you see in the erstwhile colonies of the United Kingdom.

Part of the reason why I have to lug an adapter for my laptop is because the electrical system is also different ( it still gives you a shock if you touch a live wire, they did not change that). But that did not ensure that my laptop would work. It needed another plug adapter that fits on the cylindrical plug to fit into these thin sockets here (yes, even they are different). Switches are the worst. Each time I saw a switch in the "on" position, my hands itched to switch it "off".

The moment I did that, the light would switch on. Which means, the way I was used to, I had turn off something to turn it on. My mind did not take very kindly to this switch and many a time, I still turn on the garbage disposer in an attempt to turn off the light in my kitchen. (The two switches are near each other and there is a perennial conflict between my eyes and my mind. The light switch looks Off but is On, while the garbage disposer switch looks On while it is in the Off position; my mind revolts and directs the hands to do the wrong thing)

Doors that open from the wrong side, switches that work the reverse you are used to and what else. As I explored further on the incongruities, there were no mishaps except discovering that the garbage disposer does not have a built in lamp or that the lamp does not make a gurgling noise when switched on.

My hotel had three lamps in the room, with different modes of operation. One had to pushed, one shoved and one shaken (not stirred) into action.

They even write the date in a funny fashion. Start with the month, then date and then year. This beats logic; if time is in hours/minute/seconds, then date should be day/month/year. Well, my birth date almost always appears as December 11th, thanks to this system.

Taps (thankfully they are called taps, rather than calling it shoes) There are a lot of things which are named differently. From Ladyfinger to Petrol and even railways and coriander. But to discuss that would be digressing from the point of Taps. Taps rotate in the direction you are not used to, if at all they do. Otherwise, it is a variation of up or down or east or west to get water in the place and temperature you want.

How does one know if a door is to be pushed or pulled. To a man like me, try both ways would be the answer. But life is simplified here, as in most other cases. If there is a handle, you pull, or if there is a rod, you cannot ( exceptions like me still try and succeed) pull and hence you push.

There are directions on every road, to get to wherever you want. If the road says, take a right, then you jolly well do so. And if you want to take a right, do it where the road tells you to. Coming to driving. You drive on the right ( that's right). Other countries drive on the wrong side of the road. It takes some mental adjustment. Already consider a mind which has to read Off switches as On and you get the point I am trying to make. Imagine for a moment that sitting beside the driver, you doze off and wake up. Waking up is not like a relaxing cat, slowly and steadily, but more like a cat springing up in surprise at the sight of a dog in its dreams. And see that you are on the right side of the road. Trained to think that right is wrong or rather that left is right while on the road, there emerges a sudden urge to grab the wheel in the hands of the road, turn it left and push him to the right ( now left) side of the road. Since the seat belt restrains you, the urge is diluted into a voice which cautions the driver. Having heard me say this thrice, and suddenly finding a cold glance coming towards me from the drivers seat, I now no longer take a nap while on the front seat. It doesn't mean, I don't take a nap, all it just means that I always occupy the back seat.

To have spent considerable time in school learning the units in MKS system, gives one a feeling of comfort. It is the same as learning how to cycle and then figure that all cycles are the same. Imagine if one fine day, you had a bicycle in which to go forward, you had to pedal forward. Difficult isn't it ? Quite, as some people are liable to say.

It is easy to remember that a kilometer is a thousand meters ( give or take few). And so on. Investing in all those years mugging these units finally pay off, when you realize that so many kilometers per hour, means u will reach your destination within a certain time. Dads feel that their sons and daughters have arrived, when they start such analytical inroads into life. But here, there are only miles. It is almost like omitting a chapter for the exams and finding all your test paper questions originating from that chapter. It is fine for roads. Trouble arises when one decides to jog on a treadmill. An average person is used to 10 -12 kilometers per hour speed while jogging. Climb on a treadmill and if you even attempt at 10-12 ( now in miles, and if you don't know, 1.6 times), the machine will throw you off like loose cannons from cannons. If a diet conscious person steps on a weighing machine and finds that his weight is now 150 and not 65, and till the time he is enriched with the fact that both are the same, only named differently, he will starve. Or how, as a gymmer lifts the same 20 in India which was huge, suddenly seems Lilliputian and feels like a superhero till he is also enriched with the knowledge of the weights.

In a bid to shrug off the colonial hangover, the fiercely independent Americans made all systems so different that things here, are well, different. And when in America, do as the Americans do. Well, it is a state of mind. So long as my driver recognizes the fact, I am safe.

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