I still remember that day when I was dreaming about a better life in America, when I didn’t know how life is here…I mean…real life…real undocumented life.
Until I tasted it. It didn’t take me too long to find myself crawling through perfectly polished shiny wooden floors with a small dust on them in orthodox jewish houses. The kids from ages of few month to 16-17 years (at least 7 or 8 of them) looking at me like I’m just a slave. I still remember I felt so weird washing the floor with old ripped t-shirts, then drying it right away with even older ripped towels because it has to shine, otherwise the wife of the jewish man (who actually never looked at me or talked to me at all) will get mad. Sometimes I got very strict ones, then it was a nightmare. I’m still wondering how they do it, having 7-8 children minimum from the age of 18 or 19 constantly not stopping, raising them, feeding them, cleaning the house after them, cooking food, and everything has to be seperated milk products from meat products. Seperate dishes, washcloths, sinks, even shelves in the fridge or sometimes seperate fridges, cutlery, I mean every single thing you can touch a food with was seperate for those two. But let me not get into this too much right now…maybe later on.
My dream of America and New York City (at that time), total freedom and just working from state to state and traveling all over the country was crushed in a month when I found myself working part-time for only 9 dollars an hour, and I actually realized I have to pay rent (which was crazy expensive) and buy food and take care of myself from that money.
A brand new country, completely new people, different cultures and a new way of living life that I have never experienced before. But at that moment I knew I have no other choice just to work as hard as I can because nobody will take care of me but ‘me, myself and I', left home with so much pride, being so proud of myself, speaking perfect english…I will try the far America and I will succeed, but of course nothing goes the way we always imagine.
5 and a half years ago I started my journey which I decided to share with you my dear reader and hopefully I can also call you my follower soon because this journey still didn’t end I have so much more to share with you.
See you next time and don’t forget: Be you, be happy and hustle til the end! ❤