Personal Narrative: My Trip To Miami

Until around eleven years old, Miami was my connection to family. When my mother told me and my sister that we were going to visit Chile, my mother’s homeland. On the plane ride, I couldn’t stop moving because of my excitement. When visiting a different country, there are so many expectations on how the environment will be, the strangers to encounter, and the local people. At a young age, my imagination was wild about the environment. I stepped outside and I ran back into the airport. My hands were icy within minutes, and my own breath appeared before me. Two big layer of jackets covered me, but my body still shivered as the cold blasted in my face. Everyone spoke Spanish fluently and fast, even the signs on the road were written in Spanish. Most vehicles in
The only family that I knew of was my mom, my dad, and my sister. My confusion was plastered on my face, in front of this new family. In Hispanic culture, we usually say hello to someone with a kiss on the cheek. I didn’t know that at the time, so when they leaned in to say hello to me, I extended my hand right in front of their body to give them a handshake. They looked down at me confused, but smiled and gave me a handshake. My mother explained to them afterwards that we didn’t know them very well and to give us time to warm up to them. With great curiosity, they stared at me and my sister with every move we made. We hid behind our mother, and peaked at them behind her shoulder. There was many questions that came to mind, and everything about them was a mystery.

I came to realize that Chileans are different compared to Miami. For example, Miami is a melting pot, because of the diversity. In Chile, it is extremely rare to find a person who has dark skin. Everyone there had pale skin, brown eyes, dark hair, and rosy cheeks. The accent is hard to understand and my accent sticks out like among them. I was out of place, even though, I am half