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They were all dismayed by Rockford. They had been expecting one of America’s fabulous cosmopolitan cities, gleaming with wealth and excitement; the train left them in an industrial town deep in a wintry countryside. Their sponsors were nice people but appeared to think that everybody in China lived in mud huts: on the first day, they took their guests on a proud tour, plainly expecting them to be dazzled by Rockford’s meager attractions — the corner drugstore and soda fountain, the little downtown movie theater, the car dealership near the main highway, the glass and steel roadside diner where the truckers ate … for once Maria spoke for the whole family: she kept saying in Russian, “Well, it’s just like some little peasant village, isn’t it?” No one could figure out a way of translating this so as not to cause offense.
