January 2nd, my first day in Philly…
As mentioned in my previous post, I arrived in the U.S. on December 14th and spent most of my time in Washington D.C. That time helped me build a stronger foundation for my stay in Philadelphia—I learned the basics. Since I had already opened a bank account, familiarized myself with different systems like public transportation and grocery shopping, and even gotten a local phone number, my first days in the city were a bit… boring. I decided not to take on-campus housing because I wanted to fully experience life outside the academic bubble. Instead, I moved into an apartment with 10 roommates, which promised to be both chaotic and exciting.
Those first few nights in my new apartment felt unsettling. The silence was deafening, broken only by the hum of the heating system and the occasional siren echoing through the cold streets. Loneliness crept in like the winter chill seeping through the windowpanes. I felt like an eagle soaring high above unfamiliar terrain, without a convocation to guide or comfort me. I found myself waking up in the middle of the night, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling, feeling the weight of distance from everything and everyone I knew. It wasn’t homesickness exactly—more like disorientation. I realized that despite all the practical preparations I had made, nothing could have prepared me for the emotional adjustment. I wasn’t missing home, but the structure I’d created during my first weeks in the country. In those moments, friends become an important pillar when trying to adjust, and my closest friends supported me through endless FaceTime calls, connecting me all the way to Chile—but I was still alone, regardless.
One particularly shocking night, I woke up to find a mouse sleeping beside me. The shock jolted me awake and, oddly enough, gave me the courage to rally my 10 roommates for a much-needed cleaning marathon. We spent the entire day scrubbing, organizing, and decluttering every corner of the house. That day brought more stability and cleanliness to our chaotic living space and allowed me to bond with my roommates. We laughed, shared stories, and turned what could have been an awkward situation into a team effort that made our house feel more like home. In that moment, it felt like I was finally starting to find my flock, me, and the infinite versions of myself that brought me into this exact moment.
Adaptation was necessary. I reminded myself why I was here—to grow, to experience something new. Slowly, I started embracing solitude, using it as a moment to reflect rather than resist. Then came the welcome party for international students, an event I was hesitant to attend at first, mostly because I was still trying to adjust my sleeping schedule and life; therefore, my mood was groggy all the time. But stepping into that lively room filled with laughter and chatter was a turning point. I met students from all corners of the world, each with their own stories of adjustment and excitement. We bonded over shared uncertainties and the thrill of discovering a new city. Conversations flowed effortlessly, and by the end of the night, I had exchanged numbers with a few people and even made plans to explore the city together. Slowly but surely, my wings began to steady.
Not long after, Philadelphia welcomed its first snow of the season. I watched the flakes drift down from my window, blanketing the streets in a soft, white layer. Despite the heavy winds and biting cold, I bundled up and ventured into Center City just to grab some food and settle into my routine. The city looked different under the snow—quieter, softer—and somehow, it felt a bit more welcoming, isolating, but still, welcoming.
Gradually, I established a rhythm. Mornings at the gym, afternoons swimming, and evenings spent in calming yoga sessions became my anchors. These routines not only kept me physically active but also gave me mental clarity. My classes turned out to be engaging, offering fresh perspectives and challenging me in ways I hadn’t expected. Bit by bit, the city began to feel less foreign and more like a place I could belong to.
One of the most memorable experiences so far was visiting the Philadelphia Museum of Art. I found myself completely absorbed in the Dadaism and Marcel Duchamp exhibits. Seeing Duchamp’s work in person was profoundly emotional for me, as Dadaism has always been my favorite art movement. The raw creativity and rebellion against convention deeply resonated with me, reminding me why I pursued this journey of self-discovery in the first place. In that gallery, surrounded by bold defiance and creativity, I no longer felt like an eagle flying solo—I was part of something larger, soaring with purpose.
Reflecting on how far I’ve come, I feel more confident now, and I have a strong sense of structure. The chaos has quieted, and I’ve built a solid foundation in this once-foreign city. I’ve learned that adapting isn’t about rushing but about moving with the flow and trusting the process. For now, I’ll keep soaring and see where this journey leads me—this story, still unfolding, must close with an old-fashioned… to be continued.
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