FROM where I’m writing this, I have a clear view of Washington across the Potomac River. The sun’s out, and the air is crisp. I’m staying with friends who own a farm some 20 miles from the American capital, and the view is spectacular.

When I was packing for this trip to the US a fortnight ago, I expected cold weather, so I brought a lot of warm clothes along. In the event, there’s been a spell of unseasonal but welcome warm and sunny weather, apart from a couple of rainy days.

Although the book tour has been hectic, with radio and TV interviews, and talks at Tufts and Columbia universities, as well as one at the World Bank, I have managed to carve out some time to visit a couple of galleries. At the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, I was fortunate to view a wonderful exhibition of nudes by Degas, the French artist who caught the exquisite movement of ballet dancers in his paintings from the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

The museum itself is an architectural triumph with its large, light-filled spaces, and well laid-out galleries. Apart from the Degas exhibition, there is also a splendid collection of American and European art, as well as sculptures and carvings from around the world.

A friend had organised for me to stay at the Harvard Faculty Club, a very comfortable and central place near the historic Harvard Square. My memory of the place was one of several bookshops; sadly, most of them have disappeared, casualties of the electronic book phenomenon. Another major institution to have fallen before the digital publishing juggernaut is Borders, the giant book chain that for decades had served readers across America.

At Tufts, I spoke at a talk organised by my old friend, the highly respected historian Ayesha Jalal. The students asked some very relevant questions, and were clearly well informed about the issues I have raised in my book. At Columbia, the audience were older, but just as interested in the subject of the relations between Muslims and the West.

In New York, the Metropolitan Museum (or the Met, as it is affectionately known) had a stunning display of Islamic art. I had read about this exhibition a few weeks ago, and I’m very glad I was able to catch it. The Met has always been renownwd for its collection of Islamic art, and I saw some exquisite Mughal miniatures there when I first visited it over twenty years ago.

The current exhibit consists of some 1,200 pieces (out of a collection of nearly 12,000) from across the Muslim world, laid out in 15 large rooms. Selected to represent works from Turkey, Central Asia, South Asia and the Middle East, these objects reveal the similarities as well as the differences of artistic styles that evolved in different parts of the Islamic world over 13 centuries.

There is much to take the viewer’s breath away. 15th century Turkish ceramics from Iznik are as vibrant as though they had been produced yesterday. Huge carpets from Mughal India bring one room to life with their resplendent colours and patterns.

Exquisitely calligraphed and illuminated copies of the Holy Qur’an saddened me because the craft of calligraphy is now dying out, another victim of the digital age.

One entire room had been converted into a Moroccan inner courtyard with a carpeted seating area, a softly gurgling fountain, and arched verandas. The whole exhibition has been put together with love and imagination. A couple of hours at the Met should be on the top of the agenda for anybody visiting New York.

A big difference between London and New York cabbies is that the latter love to chat. One taxi driver turned out to be from Lahore, and as there was heavy traffic, he had time enough to unburden himself to me, once he found I was from Pakistan.

“Muslims are always complaining about what others are doing to them”, he declared. “But what have Muslims achieved? What have they invented in the last few centuries?”

While he went on accusing the blame Americans of wishing to impose their agenda on the rest of the world, he was unsparing in his criticism of Muslims. He had been in America for three decades, and said the country had been good to him and his family. But he didn’t like some of the attitudes his children had picked up in their schools. I suppose this is an occupational hazard for most immigrants who have made their home in the West.

I haven’t really had the time to follow the unending race for the Republican nomination that is plodding along in the background. One nugget did catch my eye: Thomas Cain, the pizza-chain king, was reported saying to a group of Cubans: “I wish I had time to learn the Cuban language.” This was as priceless as the comment Dan Quayle made to a group of Argentinians when he was the vice president, and touring Latin America: “I wish I had studied Latin at college, so I could talk to you in your language.”

The American electoral cycle seems never to end. No sooner is a president elected before there is talk in the media about who could best challenge him four years later. In no time at all, candidates start positioning themselves; fund raising begins, and before the advertising bills for the previous campaign have been paid, the next race has kicked off.

Now, of course, with the increasing polarisation in American politics, each candidate voices more extreme positions than his rivals in a bid for media attention. In this mad dash to the bottom, no sound bite is too outrageous. In fact, it is a positive disqualification now to sound intelligent and educated, especially in the Republican Party.

When Cain was rendered speechless for ten long seconds in one TV interview over a routine question about Libya, he defended himself by declaring that the US president did not have to know everything. But being ignorant about the US role in Libya is a new low, even for a Republican candidate.

The book tour has been fun, but I’ll be glad to get home to our Puffin.