As a newly wed, I had to adapt to a lot of changes -- a new husband, a new house, a new life-style and a new country. A typical, arranged marriage within a span of two weeks after our first meeting had brought me to New England -- Boston to be precise. We did not get any time for honeymoon or vacation. As life slowly shifted in a routine, a change was peeping at the horizon. Along with the President's day came a long weekend. Three days' holiday was a godsend. We opted for a quiet place instead of a fancy place or one with lots of people around. Some quite togetherness was what we were looking for.

After much research, we zeroed in on a place, which was a three-hour drive from Boston, called "North Conway Village" in the famous White Mountains of New Hampshire. We booked a mountain inn and set out in our brand new car. I had read about villages in the USA only in old Civil War books but had yet to see one to be able to form an opinion. I was too excited and hoped to see cows and chicken and farms. Silly me!

North Conway Village was at the foothills of the mountains and was close to a number of ski resorts. So, with exhilaration and a good amount of anticipation, we stacked up to have a good time. We had booked ourselves in a village inn and so had all the time in the world to explore on the way to our destination.

As soon as we got off the highway and onto the route leading to the village, we saw snow covered mountains, on top of which clouds were sitting like a crown. All around us were splendid trekking trails waiting for the summer season, when I am sure numerous trek enthusiasts would be trekking their way to uncover new mysteries. Seeing snow around you is a unique experience in India, because there are few places where it snows, but in Boston and other parts of the North East, there is so much snowfall. Still, the majesty of the mountains surrounding us -- so huge and yet so beautiful and inviting -- charmed us. We stopped on the way at an Italian deli and ate a scrumptious meal of fresh pizza, eggplant Parmesan and clairs.

A village in US is nothing like that in India, that much I had imagined, but this was no village at all. Although it was an idyllic small town, full of tourists and skiers, it was a village just for namesake. There were no apartment complexes, it was much more green, a small train station ran around the back of our inn for the hill train, small beautiful houses and small shops. Our inn provided us with an individual cottage, a small one bedroom with a fully equipped kitchen, a Jacuzzi, a real fireplace and a terrific view of the mountains from the windows. We had reached in the evening and so we settled by the fireplace sipping wine, eating cookies and tidbits we had ordered. Nothing is better than the warmth of a real fireplace, no room heating can give that, trust me.

The next morning, we got up early to explore the delightful town. As we got out of our cottage, we looked about hungrily for a place to have some breakfast, a small bistro beckoned us with the aroma of fresh coffee and baked goodies. We sat at a table overlooking a window and ordered grilled vegetarian sandwiches, freshly brewed pot of coffee, and with plenty to talk about, it had never felt better. It seemed we had all the time in the world to enjoy with no phone-calls to bother (as our cell-phone showed no service, thank god) no mails to check, no chores to be done. We walked leisurely around the village checking out the small shops filled with sweets, chocolates, antiques, candles and so on. So different from the usual shopping places of the US -- the malls that are alike across the country. But at Conway, they were different than the numerous ones we had seen wherever I had gone before in the US. We went by car to check a nearby ski area and found one, which was perfect for beginners like me. Everything there was white, clean, and pristine and people skiing from mountaintops looking like colored dots rolling down, even small kids were doing it so expertly and with so much grace. Since it was getting dark, we decided to ski the next day and came back to the cottage. I bought some chocolates from a small Bauvarian chocolate house, all hand dipped chocolates -- dark, white and flaovered, yummy to the last bite.

That night, we went to a local eating joint just a quarter mile from our cottage, where there was some dancing and music, live and folk style. The food was wonderful, the wine was excellent and the service pleasant -- a perfect way to end a beautiful day.

Our next day was devoted to skiing, which we were told had all kind of terrains for the novices as well as the experienced adventurers. We rented our snowshoes, skis, bought a lift ticket and we were all set to go. I learned how to move around in skis with the help of my husband. Looking at small kids coming at great speeds, it felt that this was such an easy task, but it is not. I am scared of heights, I can climb up but coming down even if there are stairs is a very difficult task for me. I did not want to appear like a scared chicken so I climbed the small hill, which was for novices. While he went up and down it a zillion times I could just stare at the slope, terrified, not knowing what to do. People came and encouraged me to try the ski, little children waved me on but I just sweated there even in that extreme cold. Finally I took off my ski and trudged slowly down. That was the end of my skiing adventure. I just sat and watched other people having fun.

Later, I posed wearing my skis for photos to send back home to friends and my parents -- they would never know that I did not ski but just walked on the slopes. Well, we returned tired in the evening and slept after a small supper in the room. The next morning, we had a hearty breakfast on our way back to Boston at a mom and pop place -- stuffed omletts, French toasts and strawberry shakes. While coming back, we got stuck in a snowstorm, had to stop in a motel for a night. Our car got buried in a heap of snow. It was a tough journey back home, slippery as if Conway wanted us to stay some more.