Sweet Home Alabama

At first, everything feels like magic—because it’s a new country, one you’ve probably never been to. Everything is different: the language, the streets, the seasons, the food… even the way people smile.

But in those first months, I missed my soulmate so much it hurt. When you miss someone like that, they feel almost invisible, like a character in a movie who’s never really there. I would look at my bed, and he wasn’t there. I would play cheerful Latin songs with romantic lyrics, and still… tears.

By the fifth month, the longing shifted. I missed my friends—the laughter, the late-night talks, the parties, the dances, the little moments we shared every weekend. I would remember them, and I would cry.

I was too emotional. I felt like going home, even though six months were still left. And then I said to myself, “Angie, you’re so fucking brave.”

Being in a new country makes you socially awkward. Not because you’re quiet, but because you don’t know how people will react to you—will they want to talk to you? Will they make you feel welcome? Will they even notice you?

I longed for someone to show interest in me, to talk, to share a smile, and to say, "You belong here." That small gesture would have meant the world.

Some days, no one spoke to me—not a single word. Those were the worst days. Mondays felt endless, and I hated being there. How was I supposed to like this place?

That’s when I whispered to myself, “It’s not easy to be an immigrant.” People don’t see that I’m shy when nobody reaches out. You might ask, “But what about you?” Yes… I tried, a little.

I prayed to my grandma and to God: “Please… help me like this place. I still have six months left.” And slowly, things began to change. A chef who had never greeted me greeted me. A room service colleague came back from her week off, and we shared a laugh. The bartender approached us, asking where my roommate and I wanted to explore. Little gestures, but they mattered.

People at work are nice, but most don’t know how to connect with us, because we’re the first foreigners they’ve ever had as coworkers. They share stories, friends, and experiences from here. We… we were outsiders, learning to find our place.

And yet, even in the loneliness, I learned something: bravery isn’t about not being afraid. It’s about staying, about showing up, about letting yourself feel everything—and still moving forward.