Dan Jasnowski
How often can people claim they’ve had to move to a new country before the age of 10? Not many. I, however, can claim that fact.  My journey started, 2002, at the cold busy airport in Madrid, Spain. I had to travel from city to city because where I was currently living, there were no airports – let alone police. In the span of a day, my whole life changed.  I was endaunted by that fact. The culture was different, the cities were structurized, media was everywhere, food was different. I didn’t realize it until later but I had just migrated to the United States.

Everything I saw was different. Like I was plurged into a new reality. Spain was a thing of the past. At the time, I knew very little English. All I saw was alien garble. I couldn’t grasp it. Another thing that was “out of this world” was the fasion. It was all very different and unique. In Spain, we had uniforms and plaid clothing was in style. It was all too weird. As soon as I got off the plane, my Dad gave me my first American dollar. He told me he’d assist me in buying some candy. I went up the clerk, with my dad, and said “Chocolate, please?” The clerk gave us a confused look and my dad thankfully explained I was new. As I came away with my new chocolate bar and out of the airport, all I could see were buildings after buildings stacked upon the mass-media corporations. Taco-Bell, Starbucks, Hall Mark, you name it – they had it.

The sound, itself, was interesting. Learning English was, unexpectedly, easy. As I was in the car, riding towards home. I felt like I was eavesdropping into a confrence held by foreign crime warlords sent by double agents to intercept their mission. My new-found task was to learn as much as English as I could. The American music of pop, hip-hop, rap, and country was melodious. All so new too me yet I embraced it as it was blasted through the radio. As soon as I got home, I saw the trucks appear out of nowhere to deliver the furniture.