It was crowded, cold, and bordered on violent. The community Easter egg hunt we went to this morning was mobbed with little girls in pastel colored dresses, boys with well combed hair, and parents with every type of recording equipment you can imagine.
Of course, all the children carried elaborate Easter baskets, which were embroidered or painted with their names.
Our children had no baskets, because it didn’t occur to us to buy them. I had never been to an egg hunt on this scale before. In the UK, egg hunts seem to be held in parent’s back gardens. Ten or so eggs would be be “hidden” behind bushes, blades of grass, etc. So a basket really wasn’t necessary.
In the end, it worked out for the best that we didn’t have a basket today. The multitudes of plastic eggs scattered on the lawn of the Callanwolde Fine Arts Center were gone in minutes.
When they blew the whistle for the hunt to begin, the parents surged forward, kids in tow.
With their guardians’ help, each kid (and there were hundreds) packed away at least 20 eggs, thanks to the aggressive adult help, and their massive baskets.
Our daughter pocketed five. When we escaped the scrum of egg hunters, we realized that the plastic eggs contained shrink wrapped sugar disguised as candy — so it’s no bad thing that we forgot the basket.
Reverse Culture Shock 
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