"Welcome to America!" said the Immigration Officer last night. And he sounded like he meant it. So unlike all the dealings I have ever had, even as a British citizen, with each surly Heathrow passport control officer.

So far so good.

Today, is my first full day as a proper immigrant. My husband (yes he's real now - as opposed to being the "VH" or Virtual Husband - as he came to be known during our two years living apart) headed off to work leaving me to unpack and tidy up.  And then I experienced my first "anthropologist's moment"-when a native rang. 

"Your tags are ready for collection" she said.  I asked her to repeat herself.  So she did.  I was mystified.  What on earth was she talking about?  "What did you say?"  I asked her, speaking v-e-r-y slowly and in my best pukka Queen's English, so she would be in no doubt that she was talking to an intelligent human being.  

"Your tags, your tags" she kept repeating, as if I was a total moron."Come and collect your tags".    

It was hopeless. I was mystified. "I'm sorry, I simply do not understand what on earth you are talking about" I said.

She was stumped. As was I. She was as mystified by me as I was by her. Someone had to break the barrier of incomprehension. Since I was the newcomer it fell to me to come clean.  "What is a tag?" I asked rather sheepishly. She burst out laughing at my confusion. "License plate, car license plate", she spluttered down the phone. 

Aha, I have learnt something new today. 

Looks like this might be a sharp learning curve.  I thought I had long ago mastered the local lingo. Clearly not!