Personal Narrative: My Experience with Being Away from Home in Italy

Waving goodbye from the backseat of the car, as we pull out of my parent’s driveway. Looking out the window at the oddly, white shaped clouds. Thinking, I had never been away from my parents and my younger sister for so long, even though it was only for two weeks. I was excited and scared all at once, but I wasn’t too thrilled about the whole 29-hour drive there. Hoping that the trip would go well and nothing bad will happen to us.

As soon as I stepped off the airplane all I could think was, “what on Earth did I get myself into?” This place was hotter than hell and full of people buzzing around speaking a language beyond foreign to me. It was absolutely nothing like what I was expecting to see. Everyday we had the same schedule; we would play basketball against the local teens and after the games we would give the

The plane took off and were in the air leaving the place I had only ever known. I remember when my parents told me and my two brothers that we would be moving to the United states. At the time I didn’t know where we would end up or how we were even getting there. All I knew was I would be in a totally different landscape with a lot of ethnically different people whom I have never met or seen before.

Getting on our plane was probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to, especially since my dad couldn’t come with us that day. December 8, 2010 was the day my family decided that moving to America would give me and my brother many more opportunities, keep in mind my parents hadn’t told us that we were moving to the US. I remember I had been hugging my dad saying goodbye to him and my mom had to come and grab me away from him. His face was through the window was the last thing I remember seeing before buckling my seat belt and laying down on my mother’s shoulder. Once we had landed my mother woke me up and said to me that I should help out with the luggage and the other belongings we had to take. The night went by probably faster than

In the months, weeks, and eventually days leading up to my flight to Germany the panic was gnawing away at me. Despite the fact that this wasn’t the first time I was venturing out without my parents or even my first time on a plane, it was my first time for a myriad of other experiences in my life. My first international adventure, my first time living with a family that wasn’t my own, and my first time being surrounded by people speaking a different language; all of which began with a simple decision to cross the threshold between the jet bridge and the plane.

The Italian culture has been developed into a staple of American life, especially with a preexisting history ingrained into communities across the United States.

Skipping the last week of school to fly in a plane for the first time across the ocean to another country was a thrill. Frankfurt, Germany was my first plane stop. From there I would board another plane that would take me to Budapest, Hungary, then finally to my last destination, Romania. This was the first time my siblings and I flew on an airplane and it was fascinating because every seat had a mini T.V. behind them and the food was delivered right to our seats. This was a different but exciting experience because we could watch movies whenever we wanted, we got to order whatever food we desired, we didn’t have to sit next to our parents, and sitting next to old people came with a major perk. My siblings and I always got seats next to

That day at the airport, I thought about a lot of things while we wait for the plane to take off. Moving to the United States with my sister was a huge turning point for me on so many levels. It meant that I will need to learn a new language and adapt to a new culture. It meant that I will leave my aunt and uncle who have raised me for the past eleven years. It meant that I will live with my mom and see my dad and stepdad for the very first time. My emotion was mixed with excitement, fear, and hesitation.

I finally made it to America! The journey from Italy was definitely more challenging than I would have expected. When I first decided I would move here, I didn't expect the amount of storms that we hit. On the week journey, there was only a few days when it did not rain. We were so close together in the bottom of the ship that there was barely any room to breathe! I was barely allowed on the upper decks, which made the lower deck seem so much more crowded. I heard someone say that there was around 3,000 people on the ship alone, and most of them were in steerage class with me. I didn't get the opportunity to change my clothing, and we were only allowed to shower in salt water, if at all. The meals consisted of soups or stews throughout

During the first plane ride ever I was having mixed feelings. I would remember leaving my good friends, my aunts and uncles, but my mother told look at it from the bright side, your going to have an education and, you would

I remember the first time I flew in an airplane. My eight-year-old self looked out the window of the terminal I was taking off from, astounded by the large size of the vehicle. Worried, I thought to myself how could something that big fly with so many people? Yet, as the plane took off my worries became excitement. Not only was this my first flight, this was the event that marked the start of my new life, my takeoff from Vietnam to America.

The 14-hour flight felt short maybe due to the excitement or the fear of feeling alone, but as soon as I opened my eyes we had arrived. I saw my mother immediately as she came to give me a hug, she was with a man who I had not yet met, he familiarized himself with me stating himself as my mother's boyfriend Neil. Carlo left with his wife soon after and Neil drove us to my new home. We stopped over for food at an In-N-Out, my first attempt at eating at an American fast food restaurant. Hearing and seeing the faces in that restaurant sent a startling shock to my spine, sweat slowly accumulating inside the palms of my hands. We approached the lady behind the register as she asked for what we wanted to order. Her voice seemed almost unnatural to me, her hair looked seemingly blond, and her eyes were blue, features I had not before seen. When the food arrived the portions of the burger were unlike the size of those in the Philippines, strangely this to me this made the world felt as though it was larger as I compared it to the fast food I enjoyed daily back home. When we finally arrived at the house I had noticed it was already past twelve which was odd as I left the Philippines around a similar time. I was not yet tired and my mother did not want to leave me alone to sleep by myself so she set up a bed for us in the living room. It was when we laid down that a greater realization struck me as to why my aunt was crying. My aunt and cousins were gone. I do not

This title gotchya huh? So before I convince you to commit five or so minutes reading this blog, let me just keep it honest right here: there's no blood, no broken bones, not even a fever involved, but I still ended up in an ambulance in rural Italy.

That end of the week we flew out and traveled east to Chicago, a new place which I never knew about. I had the butterflies in my stomach and didn't realize what's in store once we achieved our goal. When we at long last touched base at the packed air terminal in Chicago, we were grasped with warm invites by my relatives whom I considered as outsiders. It was my first time really observing

My journey the day I left my home country in search of a better life was not as pleasurable or exciting as I expected. Although it was not a long flight, the accumulation of unexpected vicissitudes during the trip made my dream of traveling an absolute nightmare. Not only my sadness to be leaving my family behind, the uncertainty to fly alone and for the first time, or my inexperience with the procedures at the airport contributed to this calamity, but even my neighbor on the plane added his bit of sand in the affair. All this situation was such traumatic to me that I even considered never daring to fly again.