This is what happens when I travel in the U.S. I skip along, feeling right at home. Everything seems familiar. People are friendly, even when they have no idea what I want when I ask for the “washroom”; the streets seem just like those of any North American town; my daughter’s pop stations play the same music. Then, just as I’ve been lulled into complacency, something entirely “other” appears.
This, for example, at the grocery store:
Or, at the county fair:
The U.S. is such a fun place to visit. But there are disconcerting signs that say, “you are not at home.”