The Love Story of an Eastern European and the US (Part 1)

I first stepped foot on American soil on July 24th 2009, a day before my 20th birthday, a day I dreamed of since my first book about Walt Disney. I must have been 4 or 5 years old. I remember skipping all the pages with text so I could get to the colorful pictures of Disneyland. I remember starring at pictures of the rides, parades and, my favorite, life-size characters (judging by the children next to them) candidly smiling back at me. At that age, I could not believe that such a place actually existed. It was more of a Wonderland, a place only really special children got to go to, certainly not anyone from Romania... certainly not me. The only way I could spend time with Mickey and Minnie was through our old tube TV, and I was perfectly happy with it.


I bring this up because many immigrants come to the US thinking it is a magical place! And it is...if you look at it from their perspective. For those who have lived their entire lives under communism, the mere idea of a country where you can go buy as many eggs and meat as you want seems unreal. A place where you're allowed to go abroad on vacations, a place where you don't have to fear criticizing the government, a country that doesn't force you to take part in parades for "the dear leader" is a matter of fantasy for many people around the world. North Korea anyone?

While I  don't remember communism considering I was 6 months old when our own "dear leader" was executed, I've seen people's thirst for a less inhibiting homeland in my parents, for instance. I vaguely remember them frequently talking about emigrating to South Africa, Canada or the US, all so they could give me the best future possible. For one reason or another, all plans failed, but the American Dream remained. So while I spent my time watching Disney cartoons and coloring books, my dad managed to find the address of the mayor of Anchorage, AK. Why Alaska? Probably because he was always fascinated with this state. How he got the address? I have no idea. My parents then wrote the mayor a letter (which probably took a month to get there!) asking if anyone in the area would be interested in befriending a Romanian family. If we could not move to the US, having American friends was the next best thing.

A long time went by (not sure how long) and we got a reply! The mayor actually took the letter seriously and forwarded it to a penpal agency where people sign up to connect to other people in the world via snail mail. An American family who was looking to befriend a family from Russia saw my dad's letter and thought: Russia... Romania... same thing! :-) And they wrote back.

To be continued...