We Don't Iron in America

Have you seen at least one episode of ‘Desperate Housewives?’ If so, you know what Wisteria Lane looks like. Houses constructed in a homogenous style, perfectly cut grass, white fences.

We’ve found our Wisteria Lane in Bel Air, Maryland. Having just left the smelly and filthy streets of the Big Apple, we couldn’t believe our eyes when we saw dozens of uniform brightly-colored houses made of wood and bricks, with lawns which always look as though they’ve just been mowed although you seldom get to see anyone actually mowing them. It turns out the ‘Desperate Housewives’ architecture would not look far different if the series was filmed here rather than in the Universal Studios. We’ve been thinking if there is any special zoning plan that prevents people from building houses of a different sort. I wonder if I would be expelled from the community if I erected a gold mosque-like residence with cheesy garden gnomes and alligator sculptures. In the front yards of these typically American developments, you can frequently see the national flag waving haughtily in the air. And if someone wants to be elected a sheriff, a governor, a senator or whatever else (people constantly campaign for some position here), they will probably have a double digit number of flags attached to their house or standing in the garden as if this vigorous display was supposed to make them better politicians. If you want to be chosen a sheriff, don’t even think of embarking on your campaign unless your front yard shows everyone around what a great patriot you are.

Since Americans love coming up with new reasons to call the police, thus proving what cooperative and perceptive citizens they are, our hosts, Sherry and Jeff, sent an e-mail to all their neighbors, saying that they should not be alarmed if they see some strangers strolling around thier house within the next few days. Our presence still evoked some interest, though. On the very first day, while walking around the area and taking some pics, a guy riding his bike went past a couple of times before he plucked up the courage to approach us. ‘So … uh … you guys are living here?’ he started clumsily. When it turned out that we were staying at his neighbors’ house, the BMX rider seemed relieved but somewhat disappointed, as well. He might have seen a tad too much of ‘CSI Miami’ and hoped that he would become a local hero by reporting high-risk strangers to the police or even catching them in the act of stealing a lawn-mower, a crime which is probably the most virulent one the local community has to face.

Inside, Sherry and Jeff’s house looks as if it was taken care of by Bree Van de Kamp. I’m sure Sherry would object to this comparison but still, there’s more than a grain of truth to it. The mansion resembles a museum, yet one with a soul to it. Everything has been planned to the minutest detail and our hosts are ready for any situation, ranging from a hurricane to the attack of killer shrews. If you wake up in the middle of the day and, like a pregnant woman, suddenly think you would like to have an Azerbaijani chicken with broccoli imported from Somalia, you will probably find both somewhere within the house. While Sherry was showing us around the house, we learned a couple of facts on the country and its everyday life. Kowal (aka The Mysterious Marauder) asked where we could find an iron and a board. ‘Oh, we don’t iron in America.’

UPDATE: the house is no longer a museum. Sherry and Jeff’s six-year-old son has come back.