We decide to take a road trip across a foreign North America. All we have is a camper van and an abbreviated atlas so we stop for provisions at a small supermarket. There are three pygmy lynxes making their nests among the aisles. I give thick steaks to the first two and a helping of ground beef from the butcher to the third. Later at the trailhead the natives have staged a culture clash. They speak in code and scrawl their greetings but we know their first language is the same as ours. And I am asked to wait in the sitting room of the inn while my fellow travelers are shown their rooms.