I am a 6-foot-tall, California blonde. Sometimes I feel a tad conspicuous (particularly in heels), but for the most part, I blend in — an American in America, after all.

But when I found myself in a sea of jeweled saris, hennaed hands and a marvelous assortment of bindis and bangles, I never felt like such an interloper in my own city of Baltimore. I was an outsider looking in.

Just as I was beginning to feel like a clunky alien at this Indian wedding, however, my husband and I were swept up in a swell of music, glitter and hundreds of bouncing bodies eager to have us join in the celebration.

It didn’t matter that we were white. It didn’t matter that we were dressed in basic American clothes. It didn’t matter that we didn’t understand Sanskrit and had to be coached through the day. (What’s up with the horse? What are they throwing at each other? What ARE those lumps lurking in that sauce?) We were welcomed. We were encouraged to taste, to sip, to admire lavish jewels, to examine the saris and, most importantly, to dive right into the hoopla.

So we did. We thrust aside our American reserve and joined in the celebration, surrounded by a mix of immigrant families, both American-born Indians and those visiting from India itself to partake in several day’s worth of festivities. This jubilant crowd had carved out its own mini India in the middle of a city known for Old Bay and crab cakes.

This is what makes America great. This is what America is all about.

It’s about embracing people of all ethnicities, races and gender. It’s about allowing different cultures to thrive and make the United States a place of their own. How utterly boring our country would be if we were all the same shade, creed, race and religion. Uniformity is predictable and dull. It’s the variety of people and customs and cultures that breathe life and color into the quotidian.

At a time when so many in our country fear immigrant families or choose to distance themselves from foreigners, I am reminded how vital diverse and varied cultures and experiences are to our growth as human beings. We can learn a lot from them. We can learn a lot from each other.

I, for one, now have a love affair with Indian food — mango pickle or rogan josh anyone? — but I also have a new perspective on the meaning of family.

Generations of Indian men and women, boys and girls, clearly spent the good part of a year throwing themselves into the celebration of this couple. Family members read poetry, sang and played instruments. They performed intricate dances — each movement, gesture, rhythm and word, together communicating a storied tradition. I had never seen anything like it.

I enjoy my extended family, but we are scattered from coast to coast and rarely see one another. I can only imagine the telephone calls to my uncles requesting they perform a musical piece at my nuptials.

Silence.

Followed by roars of laughter.

And my environmental lawyer of a brother? Perform a dance at my wedding? He’d sooner wax his legs with an eco-unfriendly concoction.

I had never before witnessed such an investment of time and effort on the part of two families to launch a newly married couple into the world and into their community. I cannot think of a better way to start a life together in an increasingly unfriendly and unwieldy world.

And I have no doubt that this American couple will continue in the footsteps of their Indian heritage to put family first. To reach outside themselves to embrace others. To include those who are often forgotten. And to continue to grow their mini India in the middle of Baltimore city.

How lucky for us all.

I have a new appreciation for the priceless gifts of wisdom and peace that enduring traditions provide — and absolute gratitude for the diversity I am lucky enough to encounter in my daily life.

In time, I know the glitzy memories of that elaborate wedding (and perhaps even the horse) will fade. But I will forever remember the kindness of both families. It was not simply their willingness to embrace strangers from a different culture that’s so striking, but their pure joy in doing so.

They get it.

And I have to ask myself: Do we?