Top questions I get from Americans -No, I am not Polish

People can easy tell that I am not from around here. Tall, with fairly white skin, brown hair and matching eyes; walking in a hunched over position, not confident, like a typical American, I usually pass as Polish. It’s equally awkward and funny.  

Just the other day, a man to whom I offered to pay a bus trip with my Ventra card, as he had no cash, cheerfully said to me: “Dziękuję!”(“Thank you!”) “Sarah”, I replied, thinking that he introduced himself. The man laughed and explained that my accent misguided him. Apparently, I “sound” Polish. Besides my nationality, random things arouse American’s interest in me. 

• Why did I move here, instead of going to Spain or Italy, both closer to Romania?

Long short story, the U.S. culture resonated better with our life values. We love to dream big, American style; we are doers. In fact, for us, living in this country was a huge DY project, the kind that seems daunting at first, but you eventually grow to love.

My husband and I, wearing Romanian traditional costumes

• What’s Diversity Visa Lottery?

This one stirs up conversations on a daily basis. It could be the name of a spaceship, especially since I 'm called an “alien”, but the explanation is much more down-to-earth. 
As I wrote here, Diversity Visa Lottery it’s basically a program run by the U.S. government, which annually gives thousands of visas to immigrants from all over the world. The actual visa comes with a great price. We had a one-year window to raise $10K and obtain a job offer in the U.S. While grueling, these tasks brought us closer. I remember coming home from work one night, just to found my husband waiting for me with a three meal course cooked from scratch, because we couldn’t afford to eat out. Our favorite way of entertainment was going to the park, with homemade sandwiches and water, to rent free bikes.

•  Is there any war in Romania? 

I’m happy to say no.

•  How do I like it here so far? Don't I miss being a journalist?

Becoming a server is an eye-opening experience, especially for a journalist. This job not only meant diving headfirst into the American culture, but also overcoming my clumsiness. 
Who knew that handing tomato soups; glasses of cranberry juice and plates of carrot cake to a crowd of elders would bring me so much joy and satisfaction? Having this blog makes all the difference in the world on how I’m coping with change. Just like a broken record, I tell everyone about it, unfazed by the lack of online readers in some days or by a sudden drop in my Twitter followers.

•  Do I miss home?

Not at all. The only home I have now is in Chicago! I have an ID, a Social Number and a Green Card, but most importantly, I feel welcomed; accepted if you want. The whole city exudes happiness. The scenery looks Hollywoodian, particularly in the fall. Somehow, even with all its imperfections, I find it flawless.