Our feet pattered against the hard, tiled floor as we dashed to the platform. Despite carrying nine bags and weaving through crowds of people, our determination made up for our slowed speed. Upon reaching the tracks, I took one last look at the Puerto Nuevo train station in Verona, Italy before rushing onto the train. As I stepped inside, a stream of scorching hot air hit me in the face and continued to linger. My family, consisting of my mom, dad, 15-year-old sister named Jordan, 12-year-old sister named Sierra, and myself, walked through the narrow corridors of three train cars before reaching couchette 182. Upon approaching the door, I saw a middle-aged woman with a friendly smile who greeted us and showed us to our bunks. Exhausted from the journey, we quickly fell asleep as the train chugged along towards our next destination. My stomach growled as I gobbled down my food. We began gathering our bags for departure when my dad suddenly panicked. He frantically searched under the beds and around the room. When we asked what was wrong, he explained that his bag was missing. This was no ordinary bag; it contained our passports, credit cards, iPhones, and money. My heart raced and countless thoughts flooded my mind. We all became frantic and stressed, so the man in the room went into the hallway to let us search. We used a flashlight to look under the bed where my dad had put the bag before going to bed. The flashlight illuminated the area, but the bag was nowhere to be found. We checked all of our bags, which were on the bottom bunk, but found only their original contents. We searched all of the beds to ensure we hadn't overlooked it, but the bag was still missing. Panic set in as we approached the station in Vienna. We rechecked the room countless times, but it was empty. We retraced our steps from the night before and were positive that... wait and hope for the best. As we approached the station, my heart was pounding with worry. When the train finally came to a stop, we rushed off and headed straight to the lost and found. To our relief, the missing bag was there waiting for us. We were grateful and relieved that we had found it before our trip was ruined.
Moreover, the trip in the train gives an example of the loss of the humanity. In the train, a
“I envied the people in the train because they seemed to be going somewhere” (Lesley,7).
In Marcelo M. Suarez- Orozco and Carola Suarez- Orozco’s article “How Immigrants became “other” Marcelo and Carola reference the hardships and struggles of undocumented immigrants while at the same time argue that no human being should be discriminated as an immigrant. There are millions of undocumented people that risk their lives by coming to the United States all to try and make a better life for themselves. These immigrants are categorized and thought upon as terrorist, rapists, and overall a threat to Americans. When in reality they are just as hard working as American citizens. This article presents different cases in which immigrants have struggled to try and improve their life in America. It overall reflects on the things that immigrants go through. Immigrants come to the United States with a purpose and that is to escape poverty. It’s not simply crossing the border and suddenly having a great life. These people lose their families and go years without seeing them all to try and provide for them. They risk getting caught and not surviving trying to make it to the other side. Those that make it often don’t know where to go as they are unfamiliar. They all struggle and every story is different, but to them it’s worth the risk. To work the miserable jobs that Americans won’t. “I did not come to steal from anyone. I put my all in the jobs I take. And I don’t see any of the Americans wanting to do this work” (668). These
While most modern day children view “riding the trains” pleasurably, perhaps encouraged by the many children’s books purporting this topic,“riding the trains” at the turn of the 19th century had a starkly different meaning for abandoned, orphaned or, in many cases, severely impoverished children. From 1854 - 1929, over 200,000 of these children from the Northeast were put on trains to the Midwest and Texas, where they were paraded in front of people at stops along the way, in search of families. The fictional book Orphan Train by Christina Baker Kline recounts a traumatic story of Vivian, an orphan train rider while weaving in and comparing the current day issues of Molly, a girl in foster care. The nonfiction book We Rode the Orphan Trains by Andrea Warren, however, highlights the true
With the rapid economic development, more and more people try to immigrate to America and trying to learn English. Some parents would like their children just speaking English. However, there are some parents tend to keep their native language and teach to their children, in order to keep their culture alive. And in my opinion, parents should keep their old language alive.
As I waited for the 6 train, I walked to the spot to get on, calculated purposefully to the exit of my final destination stop. To ignore the homeless people in the way of where I am going, I turn my music louder, look down, and walk faster. Once I arrived at the stop, I grounded my feet at where I presumed the train doors would open so I will be the first to get on. As usual, I was the first to step onto the train. I went in slowly, snooping for a seat. As I looked down the row of people, like stalks of corn, I was pushed. Shoved into the train by hands clinging onto my shirt, I looked back in disgust. An old lady, arms still stretched from pushing me, looked back and mouthed, “Thank you.” Furious, I thought, did she really just thank me
However, the 4 train resides with me because it gives me the chance to explore the subway thoroughly. It’s always a scary feeling as the 4 train approaches the train station because it sounds like a pack of Rhinos crashing into a halt. I enter the train and quickly gaze of a seat because I know people will be racing to any open seats available. Luckily I found two empty seats and that’s where my luck ended because right next to me sat a drunk who smelled like he had been drinking gallons of liquor. Everyone around him decided to get up and move somewhere else. I decided to move carts because I can’t stand the smell of liquor. That might have been a good thing because I walked right into someone signing “Barcelona by Bill Newman.” After he finished signing I was the only one who clapped and the man turned around and gave me a big smile that I still remember till today. Most people were far too busy listening to their earbuds and didn’t even acknowledge him singing. There were no chatter or laughter, everyone is minding their own business. The mood gradually became positive as more teenagers and kids entered the train. The train ride just became a news source because you can year the gossips or the latest
92% increase in the number of immigrants 18 and younger who are being arrested at the border with Mexico. In a letter to the Department of Homeland Security, Abbott asked for $30 million to help secure the border. "With the Border Patrol's focus shifted to this crisis," Abbott said, "we have grave concerns that dangerous cartel activity, including narcotics smuggling and human trafficking, will go unchecked." Everyone involved has gone into emergency mode, said Wendy Young, president of Kids in Need of Defense (KIND), a national non-profit immigrant child advocacy group. "Right now," she said, "we are in triage." ((cite)) This piece noted in the article, and the article in general, demonstrate the concerns of prominent American Leaders such
The short story “Where Worlds Collide” by Pico Iyer is about immigrants seeing America for the first time. Incidentally they look at America in the eyes of their culture and as result they felt out of place. They see a strange order such as “Koreans piling into the Taeguk Airport Shuttle and the Seoul Shuttle, which will take them to Koreatown without ever feeling they left home”. Their observation points out how people from Korea choose the closest thing to home, this is their culture, their comfort zone. To people who are not from America the rules are abnormal because they are different from their own.
Today, in most cases, people don’t spend very much time thinking about why the society we live in presently, is the way it is. Most people would actually be surprised about all that has happened throughout America’s history. Many factors have influenced America and it’s society today, but one of the most profound ways was the way the “Old Immigrants” and “New Immigrants” came to America in the early to mid 1800s. The “Old Immigrants were categorized as the ones who came before 1860 and the “New Immigrants” being the ones who came between 1865 and 1920. The immigrants came to the United States, not only seeking freedom, but also education. Many immigrants also wanted to practice their religion without hindrance. What happened after the immigrants
I am all about the sentimental value behind every single little item, so as my graduation present I asked just that from my parents, a sentimental gift. When I opened the thin, beige rectangular box that was handed to me, laying inside was a plane ticket to Mexico as well as the keys to a rental car. Tears quickly emerged. On the tickets bright as the sun were the words “Mcallen, Tx to Valle Hermoso, Tamaulipas” I was finally going to be able to visit my birthplace after 16 years of not having any connection due to us not having a Visa, so we couldn't risk visiting family across the border.
I took a look around at the tall apartment building in front of me. After thanking the cab driver and handing him my money I grabbed my two suitcases from the trunk. I checked the newspaper clipping one more time before I headed up the stone steps of the apartment building before me. Once I opened the door I was greeted with the sight of emptiness. Aside from the desk and some furniture the room was practically empty. I looked at the stairs in front of me and then glanced back to the elevator. I knew I should really take the stairs, but I was lugging two full sized suitcases, a large makeup bag, and heavy backpack behind me. I walked across the room to the elevator and set down my suitcases. Just as I pressed the button the metal doors
“Stay close to me, ok?” my mom warned as I hesitantly followed my family as we descended the stairs towards the subway. This was a new experience for me, the only subway I had ever been in was the sandwich shop. I was already overwhelmed by the noises and smells. The smell was like a full soccer team had just won their championship and were piled into their mom’s vans to go for ice cream, the noise as if a thousand babies screamed at once. My heart felt like it was racing in my chest as I flicked my fingers against my leg. The environment made me extremely nervous. My mother, noticing this, stopped and attempted to reassure me, adjusting her firm grip on my sweaty hand. As my family and I weaved our way through the giant masses of
On May 6th, 2004 I moved here with my family of three.My Mother, sister and myself. My mom always drilled it into our heads that she moved us to America for a “better education” but at the age of seven, I thought I was pretty clever. I knew that the main reason my mother moved us was for our safety. I was born in the war-torn country of Sudan. Where people of the same ethnic backgrounds try to kill each other. A place where racism was always lurking in every corner no matter where you happened to be.
Kristi and I were given the key to our room. OUR room. Thank god our parents had decided to get a third room just for us. Unfortunately, it was in a middle hallway, which meant no windows. But on a boat like this, who needed windows?? We got to the door, Level 3--Room 3053, and our bags were sitting neatly outside the doorway. One swipe of the card key in the door and we threw the bags in. Time to explore the rest of the surroundings.