I never thought after being a New Yorker for six years, I would have to move and start all over again. I didn’t want to. How could I when I was in love with the city, the place where I grew up? Who wants to move from “The Big Apple” anyways, THAT’S INSANE. But my parents had no choice, and there was nothing I could do about it to change their minds.

The dreaded day had come to start a new chapter in my life. Looking at the oval window, holding the shade with one hand, I touched the glass with my other hand like I wanted to reach out to the city as it started to shrink,I closed that airplane shade as fast and hard as my tiny six year old hand could, layed down at my seat and took a deep breath. “Goodbye”, I whispered to myself , “I will miss you New York.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Tunisia” The Pilot’s first words I heard when I set foot in this new land. I’m here already? That was so soon. But really, it took us at least ten hours to cross the North Atlantic Ocean to get to North Africa where Tunisia is. But still, that was so fast, I wasn’t ready yet!

Holding my teddy bear tight, breathing slowly to relax myself, I moved forward with my parents and younger siblings, To my surprise, my whole family was there in front of me, screaming, waving and running toward me. I felt like some famous person surrounded by paparazzis.

Now this wasn’t the first time I came to Tunisia, but this time it was different. I wasn’t going back to lady liberty’s home. I was staying here in a small country in Africa.

My first week in Monastir (my ancestors hometown) everyone in my family wanted to hang out with me and show me around. They took me to different places, like the wonderful beach where we stayed there the whole day just enjoying the warm sunny day, We played with the gold colored sand, made sand castles and watched the sparkly clear Mediterranean Sea while playing make believe with my cousins.

The next day they took me to a traditional Arabian neighborhood where there are a lot of tourists enjoying the beauty of our traditions, buying our traditional clothes and items. It was an amazing place. I was surrounded by the lovely sound of Monastir’s old folk music. Suprisely I caught myself having fun and enjoying the music even though I always cover my ears when my dad plays it in the car. It was fun just sitting there watching how everyone was talking to each other, sitting in cafes, smoking hookahs and drinking green tea . The smell of the cafes filled the whole neighborhood and it didn’t even bother me. I found that smell very pleasant and made me feel cosy inside, something I never felt in New York before. Then there was this man who came to me, he was wearing traditional clothes and holding a basket full of Mechmoum’s (A small flower bouquet made of The arabian Jasmine flowers), My uncle bought me one and told me to smell it, In my country they believe the smell of it feeds the feelings.

and that was true. I remember when I smelled the Machmoum, it felt just right, it was a soft lovely smell. I just can’t find the right words to express the feeling. It made my heart smile from the inside and out.

By the end of the week I already understood the beauty of my country, it was a small country where everyone share the same history, the same culture and tradition. I knew I was in the right place and it wasn’t a bad idea after all. It doesn't matter if it’s a small place. It doesn’t matter anymore if it’s not New York. I’m living around my family and the place that made me who I am. That was something everyone will want to have in the big city. Sure it was hard to learn how to write and speak a new language, and it was really hard to move away from my friends back home. But now I have two homes, three languages, and bunch of friends from different places.

I wouldn’t trade Tunisia for anything in the world . That’s where I belong and that’s who I am.