I made my first overseas flight without my parents in my twenties. I had just finished graduate school, and stayed with them until I could afford my own place. My parents had left for India weeks prior, and I would soon join them. I had visited India twice as a child—oblivious to the cultural differences between India and the US. No worries. My mother prepared (translation: warned) me via written “what to pack” instructions she left on a note taped to the bathroom mirror. “Lots of long dresses. Nothing sleeveless. No short skirts.” (Meaning nothing that showed my knees). I sighed when I saw the…