My story

As such, I felt attracted to the culture, the seemingly unlimited freedom afforded to Americans, and I always wanted to experience this first hand. Furthermore, I knew that some of my ancestors on my mother’s side had immigrated to China in the 1900’s and their descendants still live there. Although I had not made contact with them personally, my mother had kept in touch with these relatives, and I suspect they made it possible for me to travel here.
In my own way, I had my version of the American dream to many immigrants. America personified the opportunity to experience the freedom they lacked in their countries, and exploit available opportunities in work and education. Although, in modern day, many countries have become more liberal than there were in the past, I carried such sentiments because, in China, it is well known that the media and freedom of expression is far from the world class. Despite my original enthusiasm, when the day came, I had mixed feelings about leaving my homeland to go to a place I did not know and where I knew almost no one. I said a few tearful goodbyes, and as I walked into the airports interior, I did not look back to wave to my few waving relatives because I did not want them to see my tears. My journey to America in many ways was more than just a physical journey. it was a spiritual one&nbsp.too. I had begun to question myself and decide where I belonged, did I belong to China and should I study, and they return to my home or did I belong to America like my unknown relatives?&nbsp.On the plane, I kept turning these thoughts around in my mind&nbsp.until I fell asleep,&nbsp.I when I woke up, I was&nbsp.in&nbsp.America.
Settling down was not very hard, and it was arranged that I should stay with my relatives at first before I could move out on my own. I did not move around much in the first few days, and when I did venture out