The wild wild west

During one of the initial months of my stay in the US, I had ventured to learn the names of all the fifty states because I thought I owe this country at least that much if I am here for a while. Though I have since forgotten the names of many of them, I think I will make up for it some way or the other visiting each state. I surely do not forget the names of places I have visited.

I had never heard anyone excitedly announcing that they are going to Oklahoma for a vacation. Oklahoma is one such state that did not mean anything to me, until one of my friends moved there from India for work. That was enough reason for me to book the next available, cheap flight tickets to Oklahoma city. Everybody seemed to have one of the following reactions when they heard where I am going for a weekend – “Where is Oklahoma??” or “What is there in Oklahoma?” My answer to the first question was “Right above Texas on the map”, assuming people knew where Texas is, it being the second largest state and “my friend” for the second one. One not so busy Friday at work, after we had spent a good two hours at a team lunch, I left to catch my flight to LA from where I would proceed to Oklahoma city. What were the odds of meeting someone I know at the airport! It seemed even more favorable when we realised we had seats right next to each other on the flight. An hour on the flight seemed too short for our chitchat. I landed in OKC late that night, famished, to be received by my friend. I always tell people that if there is something that I have learnt here staying away from home for around three years now, it is to cook. It looked like my friend is following suit, tasting the food he cooked. I soon fell asleep, having the house to myself. If you wonder where my friend slept, he was being extremely hospitable and crashed at a friend’s place while I was there.

I successfully convinced (or they were probably just happy to go somewhere) three people to go to the national cowboy and western heritage museum with me the first thing on Saturday morning. We were surprised to find a lot of people, young and old, dressed as cowboys as we entered the museum. They were there for some conference. I was wondering who even took cowboys seriously enough to make a museum about them and have conferences to discuss their history and culture. It would be quite the revelation for anybody who entered the museum thinking like I did. Our interest was aroused after talking to a lady who was kind enough to explain to us what the museum had, what she thought we would be interested in, how long it would take us to see everything. We started off clicking a selfie in front of a statue of Abraham Lincoln. What we thought would take us only an hour or so to finish, actually took almost three hours of our time and boy, were we glad! There were American Indian and cowboy paintings, sculptures and a lot of artifacts. The guns piqued our curiosity, and so did the cattle town that they had recreated, which we almost missed on our way out. The school, the bank, the bar, all of it transported us to a time that seemed so simple, yet so full of life.

We relived our childhood amidst many children excited to see Thomas the tank engine on display at the Oklahoma railway museum that afternoon. Our next stop was the Oklahoma city National Memorial and museum, which is in honor of everybody affected by a bombing in the city in 1995. We entered the museum just about an hour before closing time, rather apprehensive about what we were about to see. Within a few minutes of being inside, I thought this was one of the best museums I have ever been to. I felt like I was there in the city on that fateful day, grasping only an iota of the pain and anguish that they experienced. Right from the audio recording of a courtroom where the initial explosion was heard to the accounts of the survivors who can never get over the loss of a loved one and the details of how the two conspirators were tracked down, it was moving to say the least. If the room filled with the photos of the 168 people who died that day, who included innocent children does not tug at your heartstrings, I am not sure what would. It was heartwarming to see the videos of the rescue efforts that went on for days after the blast. Like someone said during those days, “If anybody thinks Americans are mean and selfish, they ought to come to Oklahoma”.

Our outing for the day ended at Hefner lake where we stayed till sunset, lapping up the beauty of the setting complete with a lighthouse. It was only here that we spotted a few fellow Indians, as opposed to California which feels like it is a part of India. I thought being told “Good to have you here” by someone at the museum was because there were not many of us ‘outsiders’ in this city. It did leave a lasting impression though. Nevertheless, we had dinner at an Indian restaurant. There is no dearth of those anywhere in the USA.

As if to make sure that the sun we saw drowning in the lake on Saturday was surely coming back, we were back at another lake called Arcadia just before sunrise the next day. The sun did rise and it looked splendid. We stood there reminiscing our lives a few years ago and reflecting how different work life is. A little later, we were all set for my first river rafting experience, which was not in a real river for that matter. The talk they gave to prepare us for it was enough to scare the bravest of people, a little bit. It was fun getting drenched and feeling like we were going to get washed away, which we did not, thankfully.

A pizza lunch and a few rounds of UNO game later, I was back in the airport to catch my flight to Dallas and then to San Jose. Perhaps I will never go back there, perhaps I will, but it did make me realise that no place in this world is undeserving of my attention and might just surprise me with its own quaint stories which are sometimes painful, sometimes uplifting.