It's about the legendary US and us: foreigners to the land of endless possibilities - a land based vagabond and it's mermaid. She: grown up on the endless blue desert of the ocean and me: born at the foot of the highest mountain range that earth can offer. We had quite a memorable experience when we road-tripped through the states and I always wondered what Americans would think of our point of view about their country.

I’ll spare you my biography for now and rather give you the story right away – I’ll say only as much as this: Laura Dekker is the girl (wife) that I’m talking about - the youngest solo-circumnavigator so far known. We got married last year under a tree on a high, green hill – not far from where she was born. And I rather say that for those that enjoy her blog as you can find her in my accounts observed from a different perspective. I hope that it will be a fun read, and in the best case an encouragement of a good kind!
By the way, my name is Daniel and the story will answer some other questions about me. ... Oh and it's Mr @lovejoy that introduced us to Steemit! We're curious and excited about it! Thanks!

June 2014

For the first time my 30 year old feet get to step on the land of the USA - the land of endless possibilities - and not just any backcountry state, but the roads of NewYork City itself - city where you are what you chose to be, I heard! - and one of the most well-known and praised cities in the world - home to fearless builders of sky scrapers; home to a heap of financial magicians that talk stock and that way rule the price of goods on the globe; home to many of Hollywoods movie sets; place where sirens are the constant soundtrack of the background; city overseen by the statue of liberty, the french lady that holds a marble-fire; host to the most well-known terrorist attack in world's history and since then most paranoid country when it comes to border control...
With those kind of thoughts in mind and too little rest after a long flight I approach the customs officer at the L.A. airport with Laura (my girl) at my side, hoping for a Welcome with an American accent… "Are you married?" he asks in a harsh tone with an Indian accent. "Not yet, no..", "then one by one!" he demands harshly. With a smile I retreat a couple of steps.. "Behind the line!" I hear him bark at me. Another girl joins my retreat to the waiting line for the same reason and I can still hear the conversation between the officer and my girl. "How long are you staying" he grunts at her. "Two months" she answered with a lowered voice, feeling intimidated. Everybody would. His tone implied a crime on her behalf. Even an angel would recall its past in search of unlawful deeds. And Laura for sure did, with her history as the youngest successful rebel of the Netherlands. After being deported and wanted even internationally. But this time (as well as always indeed) she had done nothing wrong. "WHY SO LONG?" he kept pressing on. "To travel around,.. see the country?!" she answers with fading confidence. "HM! AND WHAT'S THAT?" he asks, pointing at her self-made hat. "A hat.." she whispers. "YES, BUT WHAT IS IT MADE OF? ..SOME LEAF, RIGHT?" "Yea, coconut leaf.." she admits and if there was a whole, she'd probably crawl into safety like a rabbit. "YOU HAVE TO DECLARE THAT!" -Stamp- "NEXT ONE!"

Another officer helps me get pass the border after some questions that I've never been asked before at customs - about my last employments and how long I worked and that sort. Makes you feel like you're on trial in court. But we passed as harmless visitors. Stamp, Tourist, next one! The coconut-tree-leaf hats didn't bother the bio-security officers much though.

As we stroll outdoors of the airport - I find a movie set-up, with a police car and a fully armed policeman next to it. On his hips a gun and ammunition, a beat stick, hand cuffs and more action accessories - dressed in great looking uniform, the official stickers on chest and shoulder and a neat hat - standing next to his police car. I'm waiting for action, but the cop doesn't do more than looking like a hero. No cameras around, no director.. and the rest also looks like daily life's routine. Hmm.. it IS daily life and that kind of car, which I see in American movies, must be the standard police car here .. HA, and I thought I was always looking at older movies, when that kind of car appears. Looks cool really, but could it outrun modern cars? Looks heaps cool though!
Early in the morning we roll along Brooklyn roads towards our friends place. I'm tired but curiosity wakes my senses. It's stupid, I think, but everything really looks like a movie set. I start to realize, that what seems movie-like to me, is the average location for millions of americans. The fire-escapes on the side of every multi story building give the neighborhood a rugged look and a steely taste. AND make me want to climb around there like they do on the screen, ha! I can nearly smell the rust by taking in the city's appearance, while the sound of sirens makes you aware of some crime or accident being present at any time. … So much happening here. So many people and different colored faces. African smiles with sparkling white teeth, big indian eyes, busy asian bees and lots of spanish voices, in fact, it seems to be the second official language here. I thought that was the case in the west, but no, Brooklyn too, seems half spanish.
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To explore a country we usually buy a cheap wagon that serves as transport and lodging at the same time. So that's what we try here too. I find a offer online and take our friends bike to meet the seller some blocks further south on one of Brooklyn's roads. This is the conversation we had, on my second day as a tourist...

"Arre ju Dan?" a guy asks me with a russian accent approaching me halfway across the road. "Yea, why?" I say, sitting on my friends girly bike with handle bars high up in chopper style. " Arre ju looking forr a carr?", "Yea!" I follow him across the road. "Wherre arre you frrom?" he want's to know. "Born in Russia, mate." "So ju speak Rrussian? Где вы родились? Давным-давно, что вы приехали в США?", he switches to russian; "..em, Я родился в Кыргызстане и только 5 лет, когда мы переехали в Германию…", with only a few words I let him know that my Russian is very poor, as we moved to Germany when I was young. "So ju speak Gerrman, too?" and he switches to German. He's a german Jew, he tells me. But speaks good Russian, so probably a similar story to my own. We walk along casually, me thinking to find the car around the corner. "So what do you do?", he asks, to keep up the small talk, and I tell him about our travel plans. "Trravel? What forr?" he stops, looking at me surprised. "Just to see the country. See some national parks, the west coast and some friends." "So you'rre not frrom herre?" "No, I've got a german passport." "Ju got a drriverrs license?" He seems to get suspicious and I just think that I must be looking very young again, as I just shaved clean. "Sure, it's a european one, here.." I show him the card, that shows me with a beard. "Oh man, you'rre a nobody wid dat herre!" he comments after a while as he gives it back to me. "Dat could just as well be a fake!" I personally find the european license to be quite hard to fake with all it's colorful imprints that only appear from certain angles to the light. But he didn't. "IT'S NOT FAKE!" I protest, "I CAN SHOW YOU MY PASSPORT NEXT TIME WE MEET!" "Ju have to insurre de carr too, ju know? About 200 dollarrs. Ju surre ju wanna do it? ... "But ju can't buy a carr wid dat, can't drrive it.. you can't even identify jurself wid it!" he assures me. I stand there, surprised.. "Really??? What kind of country is this? I bought cars in Australia and NewZealand without a problem and drove em around the country.." I say, starting to feel restrain, "Welcome to Amerrica!" he announces with a hint of depression about these facts. "Jes, widout an amerrican license you can't do anyting here!" "Well, my friend agreed to insure it for me!" I keep trying badly as I feel the chance on that car closing on me. "How about this.." I try to negotiate, "..you show me the car, and if it's what I expect, I'll come back with my friend, and we'll do it through him. … You're not a dealer are you? It's you're private car, right?" "Jes, I am a dealer, but dis carr is my prrivate carr.." "Does it leak any oil around the engine?" I interrupt. "Of courrse a little.." he replies honestly, but a little annoyed about the whole situation, as it seems to dawn him, that talking to me is pointless, "..it's norrmal forr dat amount of miles." What a guy I think, honest as a child: Telling me what he thinks about me and even not gilding the state of the car that he want's to sell. "But I'm not gonna show ju de carr! What do I know who ju arre wid jur fake ID..", "IT'S NOT FAKE MAN!" I insist, "..and I don't like jur storry eider. Who knows, ju could be some Kyrgyz terrorist orr what!" I can't trust my ears! I just got announced a terrorist. From tourist to terrorist in one day. Welcome to America indeed. Ha, what a promising career! "TERRORIST?!" It's becoming funny but the streets start to look a little dangerous. Once you're a suspected terrorist in America, Guantanamo might be the last thing you see in your life, I´m afraid. That's what I got out of media, whether true or not. "Ju cost me one hour man, I should charrge ju 50 dollarrs forr it." he's obviously a business man, "..I hate dealing wid rrussians!" he adds, starting to show his frustration, "I've got a german passport.." I insist, not improving anything and he doesn't even listen, "I'm rrussian myself", he mumbles "...but I hate dealing wid dem!" are his last words as he turns around, letting his arms drop in a manner of giving up the useless case. Wow, the streets look different from the perspective of a terrorist. I feel restrains everywhere and wonder how all these people manage to survive with this amount of bureaucratic obstacles. As I cruise back to the friends place, I feel outlawed by all the accusation that rained upon me. But luckily that doesn't last long as we find out online, that it is actually legal to drive with a european license, only that the officers are not well informed about it (as a police officer also assured us at a police station) - so that an officer might not know what to do with it in case that we should get stopped.

To be continued..