I used to see airplanes before I came to the USA . In my childhood , when the boys and I saw the plane in the sky, we would start singing loudly ''wow plane ,wow plane'' until the horizon hid it. When I grew up , I was interested  in the news and documentary movies. The plane accidents were the favorite subject for the media . I heard a lot of stories  about  peoples first flight ,but I couldn't wait for mine.

 

              My first experience taking an airplane  was on May 14, 2011. It was an amazing adventure . Every thing was good  despite the long waiting time and complicated transaction in the both airports, Casablanca or JFK .
              While I was waiting for  three hours in Casablanca Airport, I got a lot of information about the new lifestyle in the USA from a  Moroccan lady I met  there. She had a lot of experience of the American culture. She asked me to call her  when I got there  for anything I wanted. The most important advice she gave  me was not to give anybody your  social security number, don't make any relationships with American girls, go to the school and try to work with American people . She was very smart .She explained and made her opinions more clear to me . She wanted me to believe in her.   When she said ''my husband has a company in NY if you can not get a job in CT you can come  to work with him.''  I had hope for her ,because she made me believe in her.

             Another older woman was sitting by my side in the plane. She  came several times to visit her sons in Virginia. She told me where to get my native food (Halal). The amazing thing was that woman was a French teacher. My background with those teachers wasn't good , but in that trip I was an earnest student .She kept  talking and teaching me throughout the trip . I felt like I was in her classroom . She told me about her sons, her daughter, and  Moroccan people who lived in Virginia. It was a nice moment, we kept each other company on the trip.

            Because it my first time flying , I got a strong headache when the plane was landing . I felt  like something was piercing in my brain. For a few minutes I couldn't see or hear anything. I only heard sounds like someone was whispering .

            When I got off the plane. I was extremely shocked . The man who was supposed to meet me at the terminal wasn't there. I tried to call him ,but he did not answer. All the passengers who were in my flight left, and I was the only one there at the terminal. I was getting very mad because I believed that man would help me to get to my destination and helped me get oriented to the new culture. After that crazy time, I saw someone coming in .  I went toward him quickly, and I asked him if he was Zakaria . He said yes. Suddenly I felt relief. I became myself again .

            My first days in Bridgeport , Zakaria and Moroccans friends  tried to get a job for me , but all the jobs needed someone who speaks English . I became  depressed and hopeless.

           After a week my friend on Facebook gave me his friend's phone number in NY. I called him. He asked me to come to Astoria because there are a lot off Arab stores over there  . I went there, then  I  found a job in a Moroccan restaurant. I was washing dishes and making delivered on bike. It was a tough job, but I had to work and  pay my debt to my sisters in Morocco. My debt was like a nightmare  because I knew my sisters needed their money because  they borrowed  from their jobs.

 

             The sandwich shop where I was working   taught me a lot of information about how Arab people lived here in The USA . I met the successful people like the Moroccan doctor who discovered  medicine for Alzheimer's disease. I met a  famous  Moroccan  designer .I met  many Arab engineers and` businessman.

             On the other hand, I met people who were in a bad situation. Some of them were illegal. They did not have a place to live. They couldn't find a job, but they knew they could have a better future by being in the right direction.  Some of them worked very hard to support family back home, but they didn't enjoy their life.

          In Astoria where I  lived and  worked ,I saw many Muslim children who did not have any relationship with their Islamic religion or their Arab language,  even though they had  Arabic names . I can't forget the Moroccan teenager girl who had many tattoos and piercings on her  nude body. She was drunk , so she went outside the club where she was fighting  with her boyfriend . At that moment I decided I wouldn't   have kids here because it is very hard for me to imagine my kids doing bad things like that girl one day.