A little bumping… I opened my eyes. Outside, a heavy rain. Excited faces in the plane. A small child in my brain. I was lost in a thought, which I don’t know why. My loves behind me, and my hopes in my front. Emre’s voice startled me. "Let’s go." A dream was becoming fact. Small feet entered the big continent. It hurt. Passports were checked, luggage was received. Trip to hope began again.

      After the fourth flight and much tiredness, I came to the city in my dreams, even by not knowing what my dream was. Quickly I was taken to house and slept without asking any questions.

      I was afraid when I woke up. Everything was new. My bed, my room, even my toilet. I went downstairs with the fear of a little kid. A big guestroom I saw first, and several doors looking at me. A pool outside, with a snack bar three meters away. Two cars for every house, at least. Beautiful flowers, nice gardens. Running people inside. One called me, "Breakfast!" Breakfast, then the orientation. What do we have to do, what do we have not to do. Everything in English. I didn’t understand. I did not understand. I thought, felt embarrassed and thought again. I asked myself "What am I doing here?"

      Orientation finished. We were taken to meet our families. I did not have a host family yet; a welcome family would take care of me until one was found. I saw the German girl first with welcome flowers in her hands. Red roses and some other flowers I don’t know any. I wondered what my present would be, a watch, or maybe a Walkman, huh? Then a lady came towards me and whispered, "You are mine." It was confusing. I looked for the father, no. I asked for the sister, no. "They are at home." Said the lady. I understood the surprise was at home. After twenty minutes in the car, we arrived home. The lady showed her husband whom I thought a gardener, and her daughter opened the door with a phone in her hand. Right hand I think. I went to my room, new room, stretched on my bed, it was new too, and cried. "I want to go home."

      Days were passing quickly and I was beginning to come to my senses. I got a birthday invitation that week, and went to the lake one day after. I tried water-skiing, tube, and also jet skiing. Was I impressive, who cares? I felt the water in my brain and the light of the sun in my heart. One of the nicest, one of the hottest, one of the childest days of my life I lived. Hey America, hey New World, hey the country of my hopes, I love you.

      Day by day everything was getting better. I was understanding the conversations, getting used to the food. I was able to answer the phone though. I saw AFS (my exchange program) handbook on my desk, and read it. All problems were normal; none of them couldn’t be got over. Just a little time, a little patience.

      I read the family-student questionnaire in the book, and wanted to answer it with the family. I asked to the mother, "What do you want me call you?" Prefer first name, she said calmly. I turned to the father. "What about you, John or Dad?" "Mr. Smith is better," he said while looking at his wife. The woman smiled, --Dr. Smith is the best—They laughed together, I cried. They laughed, I cried. They were laughing, I was crying. They were laughing, I was… Nothing.

      I went to my school, new school, a few days later. Everybody interested in me, helped me. I liked my school.

      I went to school one week after. Everybody seemed so friendly to my eyes. A guy came then, and smiled. "Why did you choose Little Rock, man?" I did not choose. At the first day of the school nobody else talked to me. I wanted my mother.

     At the second day of the school I didn’t talk to anybody. I wanted my father.

     Everything got better in the second week, I felt good. But I began to think, "Will I live the whole year in these feelings?"

     I’m still thinking. I am well one day, bad another day. I’m happy one day, unhappy one day. I’m rich some days and poor other days.

     Did I do right or wrong? Is it good or bad for me to come here? I’m evaluating what I have lived. Cannot decide anything.

     I am still thinking if I did good or bad. But slowly I’m getting the answer. I did good. Since I’m here, I learnt about my country, the US, and myself. I did good. Since I’m here I began to have peace with myself; I understood what it means to you to love yourself. I did good. I did many things new for me. I went to Taco Bell with a Mexican guy, and watched Saving Private Ryan between an American and a German, which was a movie about the war of the US against Germany.

     No, I did bad. I missed my mother, my family, my friends, and my people. I did bad. I left my country, my sun, and my sea. I did bad. I still didn’t get used to here completely.

     I did good, I recognized the life. But I did bad, life recognized me, too. I did good, I improved my English. I did bad, I corrupted my Turkish.

     I cannot decide. Everything is full of contradiction. Sometimes I’m proud of being here, but sometimes I hate being here. I suppose that my whole year will pass in these feelings, with these thoughts. But I know one thing. Good or bad, happy or sad, quiet or mad, I am learning a lot.