Travelogue

Foreword It has been three months since we became expatriates. We have come to the state of Michigan in America. My son is a software engineer at DaimlerChrysler. We are staying with him at his residence in Adams Creek, Auburn Hills, next to Detroit, once the world’s number one automobile city. The winter in Detroit is very severe. After arriving here at the end of February, it has snowed most days until March, and the temperature has fluctuated between -7 and -3 degrees Celsius. We haven’t had the chance to see the sun for a long time. We only had to go out to buy food. We would put on special winter clothes, leave our air-conditioned house, get into an air-conditioned car, go to the shopping mall, do our shopping, and quickly return to our shelter. That was the extent of our outdoor activities. In fact, we were confined to our home during that time. ...

For a few days, we lived in a condominium in the Pinnacle Hills area of a small town called Rogers in the state of Arkansas, USA. Not far from our residence was a Walmart, which was said to be the first store of Walmart’s founder, Sam Walton. We had decided to visit that historic Walmart in Rogers on Sunday morning, a holiday. But it started snowing from Saturday midnight, and about three inches of snow had accumulated and frozen on the area’s roads. Consequently, on Sunday morning, instead of venturing out in the adverse weather, I sat in front of the computer and fiddled with the mouse. While looking for something about the moon on Google, ‘Fox TV and the Apollo Moon Hoax’ flashed on the computer screen. Focusing on it gave my mind a huge jolt. Oh my, if this is true, what a disaster! Had America fooled the people of the world by resorting to such a big lie? ...

I don’t know in what deep recess of my mind the name McNamara was buried, perhaps it would have remained buried forever if I hadn’t come to the DTW International Airport in Michigan, USA. I had been to this airport once before, a few days ago. But that was a domestic flight, from Detroit to New York. At that time, of course, I didn’t have to come to this McNamara terminal. I had to go to the Smith terminal. I had landed at LaGuardia Airport in New York from Detroit on a small jet called the American Eagle of American Airlines. I don’t know in whose memory the Smith terminal was named after a distinguished person from America. My mind didn’t push me to investigate it either. But upon hearing the name McNamara terminal, it occurred to me that it must be the same McNamara who was the chairman of the World Bank in the sixties of the twentieth century. Perhaps this terminal of the international airport has been named McNamara terminal in memory of McNamara, one of America’s distinguished men. ...