Coming to a New Country

Often, a culture shock is the result of a cultural encounter.My situation was no different. At the age of six, I was on a plane, headed to the United States to live with my father, who had left my mother, sister, and I in India in order to work and form a better future of us. It was April, and the first thing I saw in this country was the vast corridors of JFK International airport. Signs in English that I did not know how to read, along with the occasional soothing voice over the P.A system confused me to no end. I just followed my mom and sister because they seemed to know what they were doing. It took us around half an hour to clear customs and gather our bags, and all I remember thinking was when I’d get to see my dad again. Well, eventually we met up with him, and boy was it a happy moment. The four of us were in a hug for what seemed like forever. People stared, but we didn’t care. All of a sudden, the fact that I didn’t understand English didn’t matter to me, because, to put it simply, I was happy. This was first of man cultural encounters for me in this country, and taught me how to appreciate differences and keep your individuality intact.