My Very First Travel Story
Many of my friends and family members have asked me to tell them what is like to live, travel and work in different countries, how did I become a traveling freelancer? And what does it mean to be a freelancer? But, in order to understand how I got to the places I’ve been and became the person I am today, I first have to talk about how my passion for traveling began and why I got motivated to travel.
My first travel experience
Usually when people talk about their first travel experience it starts of by talking about the first time they traveled to some exotic country like France or Thailand, their stories describing how wonderful the people were, the deluxe food they tried, and the sites they saw. I will eventually get to write awesome blogs like those myself, but for my first travel blog ever, I want to share with you my very first travel experience. Most people may not consider it a “travel experience “, but for me it was the most significant of all.
I was 7 years old when I had my first travel experience, even though at that time I didn’t really know that it would become a travel experience; at that moment the only thing I knew was that my parents wanted to leave the country I was born in with the hope of having a better future for us in a whole new country far away. At that time, I felt that I was being forced to leave my home, family, friends, and all that I was used to without an explanation. I couldn’t understand why my parents were so determined to leave, but I was only 7.
I was born in Cali, Colombia and at 7 years old my family and I moved to the United States of America. Yes, my first travel experience story is one of many immigrants’ stories who traveled to the United States in order to chase the American Dream. As a 7 year old girl, I remember that the flight felt like it was never-ending, I was confused as to where we were going and wondered why we had to go there in the first place, all I knew was that my friends and family were back in Colombia and I wanted to go home. I remember thinking, what is so special about this place anyway, obviously in Spanish cause I didn’t even know how to say Hello yet.
I remember getting out of the plane and seeing a bunch of people with whiter skin than mine, blue or green eyes, and talking this language that I couldn’t understand. I was afraid and confused, all I could do was hang tight to my mother’s arm. After passing through customs and getting our luggage we met with my grandma and I was glad to see a familiar face and hear someone speak Spanish again to me but everything was still so different to me.
From that day on, I learned to adapt to a whole new life in a city filled with tall buildings, I had to learn how to speak a new language in order to be understood and perfect my accent so that I wouldn’t be made fun of. I became indulged in a new culture that soon became my own and struggled to never forget my Colombian background. As I grew up, I began to understand why my parents decided to move and all that they gave up along the way.
Due to this experience my mind became open to understanding people from different cultures and backgrounds from mine because I knew what it felt like to be misunderstood. I became motivated in learning about the people around me, their cultures, and the countries they came from. My first travel experience taught me to believe that in order to understand someone from a different country, you need to put yourself in their shoes, walk the streets they’ve walked and live like a local would. There’s just no better way and that is how I decided to live in as many countries as I could, not as a tourist but as a local.