What surprises me the most is their happiness. Just slowly chewing their food, just aimlessly walking through a cheap store, with cheap clothes, yet they are both so happy, like they can’t think of a better way to spend their afternoon. Is this how it is in other places, in other countries? Is this normal where they come from, in Russia? Is it custom to buy loads of food, and to take a long time eating it? As if they are not wasting time by sitting in this more-gourmet version of a fast food restaurant? Like there isn’t work to do somewhere else? I follow as they walk slowly through the busy streets of my city. They laugh and smile and talk, and it is clear that they have no idea about how uncomfortable I am. It is a Friday, but the mother does not know this. She arrives late, yet she is the one who invited us. I watch as the mother suggests we go into a store we pass by on the way to her bank. I am amazed at how easily this rolls off her tongue. Doesn’t she know that we have homework to do? None of this was planned. I don’t shop at this store, because I have been told it is bad quality. I am not supposed to shop here. I don’t say this, though. I just follow my friend and her mother in. I watch as they look through the skimpy and brightly colored outfits together, the daughter suggesting teenager-targeted outfits for the mother, and the mother agreeing that they would look nice on her. Doesn’t she worry that she will look odd, because this clothing is designed for people younger than her? Is she, a middle-aged woman, okay with wearing a shirt that shows her mid-drift? They buy an armful of clothes while I observe, a bystander. I am dazzled by just how carefree and laid back they are. A mother and a daughter, together so happy, and a friend, acting like she feels the same way. Is this how it is in Russia, in Europe? Where the date doesn’t matter, and parents wear children’s clothes, and adults don’t mind if kids tag along. Where mothers share all of their personal life with their daughters, all of the dirty little details, and the food is slowly savored, and people can last minute decide to go certain places and do certain things. Where the children have to remind their parents that they can’t say certain things in America, and the mothers encourage their young daughters to get working, grown-up boyfriends, to help support them at the mere age of fifteen. Is it just in America that our lives are so scheduled, our dialect so regulated to make sure we won’t offend anyone? Are people happier in other places? Did I just find the answers to all America’s problems in just one afternoon?