An Experience Of Moving To America

Moving to America, was a difficult transition for me. I had come to the realization that I wasn’t going to see my friends any time soon back in Iran and that was hard to overcome at a young age. I was alone as a child because my siblings are a lot older than me, and my parents’ had the challenge of starting over because they had left everything behind in Iran. However, that wasn’t going to get in the way of me succeeding in school. I have always been a fast learner, by the age of eight I had already learned four languages. Also, I was voted most improved by my classmate every year I was in Elementary School. This might not seem like a big achievement, but as a young student in a new country it was a huge motivation boost for me to improve every

Every individual have moments that changes their lives. It can be a big moment or a small moment, just depends on how each individual sees it. As for me, I wasn’t born in America; I was born in Vietnam. For nine years of my life, I did not know where America is and what is America. Not until I migrated here, to America, to live with my father because he wants me and my brother to have a better and a brighter future. Vietnam and America are totally different from each other. Vietnam is a very poor country; where as America is a country of luxury. When I first moved to America, I was overwhelmed by everything; the environment, the community, and the language. Everything is unfamiliar to me and somehow I have to adapt with those unfamiliar things.

My family and I in 2008 moved from Trinidad and Tobago to America. We were all so excited to move to a new country. We heard about all the fun experiences and great opportunities that America had to offer. I must admit that I had mixed emotions about moving to a new country. On one hand, I was exactly happy because I was going to have an opportunity to go college and presume my dream of being a childhood teacher or child psychologist. On the other hand, I was sad because I was leaving all my Tobago friends and family

On September 24, 2010, an airplane carried me to the ground of another country, to another dialect, new culture, new places, new habits, new challenges, new people and all in all, new life. I won't describe for you a lot about how hard it was to say farewell to all my relative and my friends, because I think you can picture yourself what would it feel like to leave everybody you know in your own country and move to America. When you leave your adolescence home — the place where you grew up, your local area or your country of residence or your homeland or anyway you feel to call it — you leave a piece of you behind. Before I came here in America, I thought that I would be in Hollywood, cozy house, bunches of tall structures, however to my mistake

Looking back on it now, my parents did a lot to get us here in the United States we immigrated from Montego Bay Jamaica to Jacksonville Fl. When I was about six years old. It was my mother, father, my two older sisters and I who all came together it was a long process but well worth the wait, there is a lot of paper works, shots and pictures that had to be taken just to leave my homeland, man it was so tiring watching my parents fill out paper after paper about each one of us individually.

The day was finally here. It was November 11, 1990, the day that our family was to go to ¡®Land Of Liberty.¡¯ I heard so many different things about this country called United States of America and I was warned that it would be nothing you¡¯ve expected. The plane ride did not seem as long as it was; partly because I was lost in my own thoughts with hopes and anxiety. I thought about what I will become in this massive country I was headed and how soon I will adapt to this new culture and people.

“Something that I never had in life, something that you have but are taking for granted, I won't stand for it.” Game controller in hand, I gulped hard, with sweat rolling down my head. My eyes pointed directly downward, not daring to look up as my mother gave “the talk.” My mother’s words echo in my head. Having lost her father during high school, she was denied her right to higher education. She married at a young age, moved to America, and gave birth to me. The first born, the carrier of the American Dream. We were what one would expect from an immigrant Indian family; working hard, valuing education, and hoping for a better tomorrow. As my parents worked hard to sustain our family, I strived to excel in school, motivated by their hardship.

I've been meaning to write, but work has been mighty tiring. Sally and I are in good health thanks be to God. I was also blessed to find both lodging and gainful employment. Our living arrangements are modest. Sally and I share two rooms in an attic for which we pay $4 a month. We live in what is called tenement housing. It is rather dark and it gets hot enough during the summer that we escape to the roof for respite from the heat. There is also the spread of disease to worry about. Sally and I have been lucky enough to avoid getting sick, but with people living so close to together and houses being packed closer together than sardines I fear that our luck will run out soon. We try our best to keep our home tidy, but there is not much we can

I couldn’t believe the day had come, I was moving to America! For me, this was going to be a whole new experience and a life-changing event. Truth be told, I did not know what to expect, and on what is going to happen next.

The first time I’ve met my parents was when I was five. When they approached me at the airport, I did not know who they were. When I found out that they were my parents, I did not know how to react — I was excited, but also scared. Standing in front of me were two people whom I listened to the voices of for the past five years and spoke casually with on the phone, but meeting them in person was a whole different story.

I was born and raised in Vietnam. At the age of thirteen, my family decided to move to America for living. The story of my life has no different than other immigrant students. The story of how parents decided to give up everything that they had built for years and came to another country for a fresh new start. The story of how people like me, immigrants, got mocked and discriminated for our broken English. The story of how I cried mostly everyday because I did not fit in within the society. And the story of how I struggle to find something that my family originally came to this country for, the American Dream. The story of my life is not original, at least not anymore, since there are a lot of people in this nation have the same story as I

Many people who move to American, immigrate because it’s their last option. Some people flee to escape war, or poverty. My dad’s situation on the other hand, was more of a mental decision. I interviewed my father, Mariusz Kukielko for this project because I admire his intentions and courage he had when he was forced to make this big decision. I have always know he was an immigrant, because I was myself about three years old when we moved, but I was too young to recall anything. The interview took place in my living room.

I never in my life did expect one day to write an essay for the Spanish Travel Scholarship and to write it in English! Fifteen year ago I was a typical Italian architecture student who, beyond doubt, had not yet established her role in the local, national, and global community, or her purpose in life. I spent my college years making my parents proud, and fulfilling teachers’ expectations. Nevertheless architecture wasn’t my college decision. It was my dad’s dream. When I was six years of age, he lost his engineering firm because of a stroke. He reinvented himself various times, after the stroke, but he has never been able to rebuild his engineering firm from the ashes. My architecture degree was his last opportunity to reopen his beloved

It can be very challenging to move away from the country you grew up in. Recalling all those moments of laughter, excitement, and adventure can only make one more and more depressed. I was born in Port-Au -Prince, which is the capital of Haiti and raised in Gonaives. I spend most of my early childhood in Haiti. I only knew my native language, food, music, and history. I was only familiar with my native holidays and celebration. Therefore, the day my mother came to me and told me I had been awarded my resident card, and we had to move to America. My life changed forever.

When moving to a new place, the first thoughts that comes to mind, "Moving to a different school? Meeting new people?" The terrifying thoughts coursed through my mind causing me to freeze in cold sweat thinking of all the horrible things to come with this new chapter of my life. Regardless, I am a fearless adventurer ready to take one a whole new exciting journey to exotic places, experiencing new cultures, meeting different people.