With the new sunshine streaming through the window, I began my first morning in a foreign country.
Far away from home.
Far away from everything familiar.
Yes… hehe. It still felt unreal.
I woke up early without even setting an alarm.
For a moment, I didn't understand why.
Then I remembered.
Back home, my grandma used to wake us up at five in the morning—me and my maternal uncles. She would gently knock on the door and call our names, telling us it was time to wake up.
"Health is wealth," she always said.
Even when we felt sleepy, she made us exercise with her. Stretching, walking, simple movements—but full of love and care.
And now, here I was.
In a different country.
In a different room.
Waking up at the same early hour—but without her voice.
Without the soft knock on the door.
Without the familiar smell of home.
I lay there quietly, staring at the ceiling.
Suddenly, I missed them.
More than I expected.
It was only my first morning here, and already my heart felt heavy.
A small question slipped into my mind—
How am I going to survive here?
No grandma to wake me up.
No family around me.
No familiar voices in the hallway.
Just me.
And this new world.
But as the sunlight grew brighter, I slowly sat up.
Maybe surviving didn't mean having everything the same.
Maybe it meant carrying their love with me—even here.
Even far away.
And maybe…
this was the day I start becoming stronger on my own.
At the same time, I felt a little scared.
I suddenly remembered that my roommate hadn't really slept properly. She had stayed awake almost until morning, only falling asleep just before sunrise. I didn't want to wake her up. I didn't want to disturb her rest on my very first day.
So I moved quietly, carefully, trying not to make any noise.
But my mind wouldn't stay quiet.
What was I going to do today?
Should I go outside?
Should I explore the campus?
Should I just stay in my room?
The thought of stepping into that new environment alone made me nervous—but also curious.
As I stood there thinking, I realized I had already drifted into my own world of imagination again.
Slowly, I walked toward the balcony and stepped outside.
The morning air felt cool and fresh against my skin. The campus looked calm, almost peaceful, as if it was still waking up with me.
I leaned against the railing and took out one of the books I had carried all the way from Nepal. It had been recommended by my friend before I left.
The title was Don't Believe Everything You Think.
I stared at the cover for a moment.
And then I laughed softly at myself.
Wasn't it funny?
Here I was, overthinking everything—feeling scared, questioning myself, imagining problems that hadn't even happened yet.
The situation didn't really match the lesson of the book at all.
The book was telling me not to believe every thought in my head…
And my mind was busy creating fears.
"Hehe…" I laughed quietly.
Maybe this was my first real lesson in this new country.
Not about classes.
Not about language.
But about myself.
Maybe I didn't need to believe every scary thought.
Maybe today didn't have to be frightening.
Maybe it could simply be… new.
And for the first time that morning, I felt a little lighter.
Later that morning, I decided not to stay inside all day.
My countrymates invited me to go out with them to eat something, and I agreed. It felt nice not to be alone. We walked together, talking and laughing, and for a moment I almost forgot I was in a completely new country.
And then came another "first."
My first time eating noodles in China.
The bowl looked beautiful—colorful vegetables, steaming broth, long strands of noodles that looked so different from what I was used to. It was attractive, almost artistic.
But the taste…
It was mysterious.
Unfamiliar.
Different.
I couldn't tell if I liked it or not.
I took one bite.
Then another.
That was enough.
I smiled and pretended I was full.
But my stomach had other plans.
Not long after we returned to the dorm, I started feeling uncomfortable.
Very uncomfortable.
Yes.
I got sick.
Diarrhea and everything.
Welcome to the new environment, I thought weakly.
Thankfully, before leaving my country, my family had packed medicines for loose motion "just in case." At that moment, I silently thanked them—and God—for thinking ahead.
While lying on my bed, feeling tired and slightly miserable, I couldn't help but laugh at myself.
So this was how my first food experience in China ended?
Not with excitement.
But with medicine.
Still, somewhere inside me, I knew this was part of the journey.
New country.
New food.
New bacteria, maybe.
New challenges.
And somehow, I felt proud.
Even though I got sick, I was still here.
Still trying.
Still learning.
Maybe adapting to a new environment isn't always graceful.
Sometimes it's messy.
Sometimes it's uncomfortable.
But it's still growth.
And even through the stomach pain, I told myself—
I'm ready.
At the end of the day, after everything that had happened, I joined a small gathering with my countrymates.
I was still feeling a little weak, but I didn't want to miss it.
When I entered the room, I was surprised.
They had cooked familiar food.
Food from home.
Because we weren't used to eating outside yet… and maybe because they understood how difficult the first days can be.
The smell alone made my heart feel full.
For a second, it didn't feel like I was in a foreign country anymore.
It felt like home.
We sat together on the floor, sharing plates, laughing, talking about our journeys and funny mistakes. No one judged. No one felt like a stranger.
Earlier that day, I had been scared of not surviving here.
But now, sitting there with people from my own country, eating food that reminded me of my childhood, I felt something completely different.
I felt honored.
Grateful.
Blessed.
To be so far away from home… and still find people who care.
That night, I realized something important—
Sometimes, when you leave home, you don't lose it.
You find pieces of it in unexpected places.
And as the day came to an end, I smiled quietly to myself.
Maybe this new chapter of my life wasn't only about challenges.
Maybe it was also about finding family in strangers.
And that thought made me feel safe.