Pre-Labor-Day Days

Ann Arbor is indeed true to its name. I don’t know much about the Ann part, haven’t met that many people so far, but it definitely is an arbor. A beautiful forest already preparing itself for the upcoming fall. Leaves are slowly, yet steadily, turning yellow and brown and falling from the trees. Being crushed by hundreds and hundreds of students' feet running to and fro.

But let me start from the beginning. I was born. . . . No, not that beginning. I think I will start with the day I landed in Miami, Florida. The flight was good. Uninventive and rather boring, but still good. Only too late did I realize that the other two seats next to me were empty, as if inviting me to stretch on them. Which I did, like two hours before the landing, and immediately fell asleep.

Waiting in a line to have all my documentation properly revised and stamped, I was made to view “Welcome to America” program. In a loop. For four times. Smiley happy faces enhanced by the music of Dvorak’s New World Symphony. Lovely. Cultural impacts immediately from the very beginning. At least they didn’t make me take my shoes off. This had already been taken care of by the British at Heathrow.

Afterwards, when it was finally my turn, the official from the Department of Home Security was evidently tired and didn’t pay much attention to what he was doing with all my documents. Although he winked at me in a friendly way, he also forgot to stamp one of my papers. I’m only to see what trouble will ensue from such negligence of duties.

Upon emerging from the airport building I was as if smacked in the face by suffocating heat. Heat and humidity. I tried to ascribe it to the small parking space full of cars and buses, all with their engines running. But no, not even all the traffic in Miami was able to produce such terrible climate. The weather was really hot. Hot and humid. Humid and hot. Whichever way you prefer. And more of it was still to come.

The ride from the airport was nothing special but for the fact that I was able to realize for the first time how much ugly Miami actually was. It was nothing but concrete, glass-and-metal buildings, no people in the streets but all the more huge cars on the roads. Huge cars of European or Asian makes manufactured specifically for the American market and thus twice as big as those visible on European roads. Talk about oil crisis.

The hotel was beautiful even despite the fact that I was woken up by my future roommate at 1 am (plane delayed at JFK). Her name is Maria and as well as the other Fulbrighters she is a sweet thing. Compassionate, willing to listen, willing to talk, willing to experience and share. I’m missing her already, though I’m secretly hoping for a trip to NY some time in November to see all those at Columbia University.

If I look aside all the talk about how great and liberal America is, the Orientation was a fantastic experience. Have you ever been in a room with people from, let’s say, four different countries? Well, multiply the number by ten and you’ll get the number of nationalities our moderate group consisted of. It’s incredible how much one can learn in three days, provided that he or she is exposed to such community. I’ve learnt something about Egyptian marriage rituals, about the history of Bangladesh, about dating patterns in New Zealand, about Japanese humility expressed through their very language, and about many others. But not only this. One can also learn a lot about themselves. About myself being a member of a Czech culture as well as about being a European. Nothing is as eye-opening as seeing your own culture through the prism of somebody else’s culture. Or through the way somebody else sees you and your culture.

Our days were spent in classes whereas the evenings were about dining out. Neither Miami nor Miami Beach appealed to me much. I don’t know. I guess all the positive things we’ve encountered were overruled by the constant changes of air-conditioned rooms (air-conditioned to such an extend that we had to wear sweaters, warm socks, or sweatshirts with hoods and yet we were still shivering with cold) and unbearable warm and humidity of the outdoors. It’s really a wonder none of us has fallen ill.

I was happy to leave Miami. The people, both the organizers and the participants, were such a thrill to meet! Beautiful in their diversity and openness. All of them. But still, Miami as a city was killing me. I can’t image anyone willingly living there.

And so on Friday I arrived in Ann Arbor. I was warned it was a cozy little town (of some a hundred thousand inhabitants) which I would love the instant I saw it. All those people telling me this were of course right. I only didn’t expect them to be so right. As I’ve said, Ann Arbor is unspeakably beautiful. With trees everywhere it may indeed remind one of an arbor. There are typical suburb houses (with adorable porches and verandahs) or apartment houses everywhere behind or along the trees.

When I arrived in the town, it was way past midnight, and yet the town was all party party party down here. All the porches and verandahs were crowded with students, be that grads or undergrads. House upon house, verandah upon verandah, around each of theme there were around twenty people, drinking, listening to music, enjoying themselves.

Only the other day did I learn that the reason for such a jubilation was a Saturday football match between U of M team and the team of Utah. Although I’ve been told that Michigan had a great team, eventually they lost. But this didn’t change a thing about the fact that from very early Saturday morning, the streets of Ann Arbor were filled with people of all colors and ages wearing yellow and blue T-shirts, sweat shirts, shorts or others, bearing the logo of their football team. I mean all of them. I was by far and large the only person not wearing something yellow-blue with a huge M across my breast. (Have to buy myself something, though.)

Before the commencement of the match, the fans' pouring crowds stopped the traffic. Though I have to admit that the streets were totally empty once the match started. The stadium, referred to as Big House, can house a hundred thousand people (biggest in the country). In the light of the entire city’s population, no wonder there was no one in the streets. Michigan lost. I wouldn't be able to tell but for the lack of parties afterwards.

If anyone wants to come over and visit me, there cannot be better time than that of the match. It’s indeed experiencing the American culture through and through. As I was told by a shop assistant in a hardware shop: “You arrived on the match day. Well, welcome to America!” Next weekend there’s another U of M home match. I hope it is enough time for me to grasp the rules, of both the game and the social event as such. You know what I mean, when to shout boo’s and when to cheer.

There’s nothing more and report, except for miniature details, like numerous squirrels in the streets, the beauties of campus buildings or willingness of people to help and to show you the manifold ways of incorporating into their culture. In this respect the grumbling Czechs have a lot to learn. And reciprocally, we could teach Americans something about dietary habits. No offense, but the food over here is terrible. I don’t know what I’m going to survive on. I’ve been here less than a week and already I’m craving for something at least remotely natural. But enough. No complaining. This may come later when I start to be home-sick and my work doesn't satisfy me. As for now I’m still in a honeymoon phase, enjoying the novelty around.

And last but not least, for those in knowing, some time in March a certain French-Japanese-American cellist is going to perform in Ann Arbor. Guess I should get a ticket soon. Yay!