Hot. A friend of mine describes herself as being ‘solar-powered’. I get that. I don’t do well in cold and miserable weather. Which makes this such a pleasure – a gift of a week or two of warm in the midst of a cold winter. I sat outside for a while just now and just enjoyed the warmth of the sun on my skin. This is partly a legacy of living through what felt like an endless winter, of course.  I still recall so clearly that day in Korea when it was finally warm enough to take off the long sleeves and feel the sun on my skin. I have never been able to explain it adequately. This wasn’t as bad, of course – there has been some sunshine and warmth in between the cold in KZN – but it’s still great to feel warm again.

So far, that is about as much as I have experienced of Arkansas. This trip was a fortuitous coincidence for me. Most NGO jobs don’t involve much international travel, especially so soon after starting with the organisation, but circumstances conspired to require me to be here, so I get to see a place I might never otherwise have visited. Most of the trip will, of course, be hard work, but just being in a new place is a chance to experience it. I say the warmth is all that I’ve seen so far, but even a few hours is enough to catch a glimpse of the nature of a place.

For example, I’d forgotten how much being in the US feels like stepping into a TV series. Not surprising, given how many of our TV shows are from the US, but the differences that are hardly significant on screen, stand out when you’re here. The cars are different. The first time I travelled overseas, I was fascinated by the fact that the cars in America are bigger. They’re longer and more imposing. It doesn’t seem plausible but I noticed it again today. Bigger, bulkier, different.

The roads are different, too. What is the difference? It’s hard to say. I guess they seem bigger too, which is perhaps logical. But it’s the strangeness of the signs, too, and the fact that they use writing where we would use pictures a lot of the time. And the robots are different – the traffic lights. And the naming systems. My hotel is on Interstate 30. Just like they’d say in the movies. The roads also seem bigger because there are fewer high walls and fences.

And the houses are different. Across the road from where I’m staying is a wooden-style house with a swing on the porch. The widespread use of wood is a significant difference and gives the place a unique character. It’s not surprising, given the contrasting availability of materials for building. There are trees everywhere here. Taking off from Atlanta this morning, I was struck by that. We’d landed in the dark, so it was my first opportunity to see the area. It felt like flying over forests with the occasional clearing for houses and businesses. Towards Arkansas, the forests gave way to a patchwork of fields – many of them covered in water for some reason. But still, it looked like the clearings had been carved out of the woods, the forests, the trees that were naturally there. I often forget that what I consider the norm in landscapes, namely the wide, open, grassland plains that make my heart sing, isn’t the norm everywhere.

Time-zone hopping, combined with a very long direct flight (16 hours Joburg to Atlanta) has left me a little hazy. These impressions are partly the product of that. But they’re also the first impressions of a different place, a new place. I visited the US once before, although not this part of it and under very different circumstances and a long time ago. It was my first trip outside of South Africa and the experience was one of overwhelming otherness – I didn’t have the capacity to notice detail. Now, many travels later and after getting to know and appreciate some American friends while out of my own comfort zone, I find myself appreciating this so much more. But something about it – even if it is only the jetlag – retains the atmosphere of having just stepped into a TV programme.

Right now, outside my window, an American flag is flapping proudly in the breeze.