The part when the Ganguli family went visiting Calcutta for eight months resembles one experience that I had when visiting my home country Vietnam after the school year had ended. Just like Gogol, the way I dressed when landed at the airport distanced me from the rest of the family greeting me. Just like Gogol, I had to stay at relative houses from time to time and have fun with them, some I don’t really remember. Just like Gogol, I was asked barrage of questions about my life in America and withstood their remarks about the difference between the ways of life, both negative and positive. Just like Gogol, I got dragged by my parents to places that I wouldn’t have come to myself, but for the sake of remembrance and for their joy. The only difference from my trip and Gogol’s is that asides from all the seldom negativity and awkwardness of acquaintances, it was one of the most enjoyable experience of my life where I got to meet new people, discover new places, and dwell into the past by emerging myself in the community. It was a fulfilling vacation.