My first day in America: It was April 10, 1997. Denton, TX. I was 23. I arrived with 8 other Filipinos to work as Physical Therapist. It was a rainy evening when we arrived. The coldest rain that I ever experienced. We stayed in a house that was the nicest house that I'd ever stayed in. I was impressed by the wall to wall carpet. The fireplace. Hot water from the faucet. The well-stocked pantry and refrigerator. Flavored rice. The 50 plus channels on TV. The almost empty street. And the American friendliness. After 2 months, I moved to Iowa. I was depressed at first because I felt like I was thrown in the middle of nowhere. My image of America prior to coming here was "big city" like New York or Chicago. I did not expect cornfields and small towns. I realized immediately the necessity of a car. I did not know how to drive. I was depressed for quite awhile but this place grew on me that when I returned to TX five years later, I missed Iowa so much that I decided to move back to stay. #firstdays
4 comments:
I can't imagine immigrating to a new country for the purpose of living the rest of my life. I think that is mostly because here we are blessed with so many things that we become spoiled and wouldn't give any up to move somewhere else.
Hi Ed, I was inspired to share my first days in America because there is a project in the internet that encourages immigrants to share their first days here.
I am very lucky to get here.
I liked reading this because I could identify with it.
~C
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