It was a crisp dark grey January morning. The sun was hidden behind the sadness of the lingering clouds. I remember prancing around the house in my purple striped knee-high toe socks, slipping and sliding all over the white opaque tile floor. My 5-year-old ruby red curls had been unleashed from my scrunchie and were bouncing uncontrollably. The smell of bacon lured me into the kitchen. I could hear the sizzling of the pan as my mom hovered over the stove top. She turned toward the counter, holding the pan in her right hand. The eggs piled onto the glazed turquoise serving dish. She then placed the plate with the bacon strung all over it dripping with grease. As I walked over to the counter, my feet notice the bitter cold tile floor seeping through my socks. I assembled my plate and strolled over to the breakfast table where the five of us sat, my mom, siblings, and I. My dad didn’t join us because he was in Singapore on what I was told was a business trip.

As the forks clanked on the plates all of the sudden my mom decided to say something. Her voice was very solemn, so we knew something was wrong,

“Your dad and I have decided that were moving to Singapore.”

Her eyes became watery and her bottom lip pooched out like a pouting 10 year old. These words did not register in my five year old brain. It didn’t seem like such a big deal to me at the time. But I do remember how the emotions made the air feel heavy on my shoulders. My mom tried her best to explain where Singapore was and what it was going to be like. At first, I was okay with it except for the fact that I had to leave my brother and sister behind. They were about to be freshmen in college. But it really didn’t settle in until the day we had to leave, without them.

Entering the airport was a normal occurrence to me. It’s not like I had never been in an airport before. But this time it was just the fear of the unknown that hung over me. I was about to have to say goodbye to my best friends and It became more real when we slowly dragged up to the door where we had to enter security. I turned to hug my sister, I looked up at her and tears were rushing down her face, I then grasped her leg tightly in fear of what would happen when I let go.

Normally, my mom always booked our seats together. The terror of sitting next to a stranger was never something I had to worry about, until now. On this leg of the trip, since she booked it late she couldn’t get priority when she was buying the seats. She warned me in the quietest voice

“Sweetie, we might not be able to sit together. If someone is nice enough they might offer to switch seats. But you need to be prepared if you have to sit next to a stranger.”

Knowing this chills raised on my arms and legs. I was so nervous and I got cold all of the sudden. The old leather chairs at the airport gate didn’t help with that. As they called for people to start boarding I sat there until my mom forced me to get up.

I was fearful as I walked on the plane and down the aisle. My mom walked in front of me, grasping my hand. She had my pink backpack full of toys on her right shoulder. I was so little that she blocked my view, I couldn’t see anything in front of me. She suddenly stopped by the bulkhead seat. She moved to the side and that's when I stopped in my tracks. My eyes grew wide as I grabbed my moms hand back and hid behind her. Every now and then peeking with one of my eyes. What I saw was something equivalent to an alien at the time to me. It was an indian lady dressed in a traditional Sari. It was bright green with a hint of yellow. Her belly popped out of the dress. Her grey scraggly braid rested  in her lap because it was so long. She had a massive bindi in between her eyebrows. But her appearance wasn’t the only thing that stirred me away, it was the smell. I made a face as if I had smelt something sour.

My mom immediately took my hand and walked me to the back of the plane. She explained to me why she looked like that and to be respectful because it was her culture and religion. She made it clear to me that she wasn’t any different than me and her. After she talked to me we walked back to the seat. I sat down as my mom stood there and watched me buckle my seatbelt. I sat there in awe. I had never seen anyone like this before. As we got prepared to take off she buckled her seatbelt and reached down in her bag to retrieve a book. My curious little self peeped over to see what the book was. At that point I didn’t read a lot but the book was in english which shocked me. I fell into a short slumber for awhile and awoke to dinner time. The smell of rotten eggs took over the entire cabin. My least favorite part of the flight, the nasty food. I got spaghetti and so did the lady sitting next to me. I was shocked, she was eating the same thing as me. Throughout the flight, I realized in my young little mind that she was just like me. She was just a human being. Just because she looked and dressed differently didn’t mean anything.

This soon became a realization as we landed in Singapore. Over the eleven year period that I have lived in Singapore, I have been exposed to such an immense variety of cultures. Since Singapore is such a global country it draws in expats from all around the world. Europeans, Asians, Americans, Australians, you name it and Singapore has it. As I have grown older I've become so comfortable with people who speak different languages, eat different foods, and in general live a different everyday life then I do. Moving to Singapore has been a long awaited learning experience for me. It has provided with me a foundation of adulting into a worldly human being who is accepting to all types of lifestyles. This is my twelfth year here and I can confidently say I am a well rounded person holding open arms to everyone.