with no cultural encounter, there is no real life!

Standing alone in the airport; checking every thirty seconds my passport and my ticket. I was on my way to the United States for the first time. There was only a portal between me and my dream trip. Just before I entered, my scattered thoughts were interrupted by a phone call. “Don’t worry, you will find something reminds you of home.” That was the last sentence I heard from home.
I was enthusiast by the idea of going to a new world. Smiling to everybody and getting tons of smiles back. The first thing I did after buckling up was putting my notebook and pencil in front of me.
It was so dark and very quite. The man who was sitting next to me was asleep the whole time. I was disappointed as I had prepared hundreds of conversations inside my head to share with whoever would sit next to me. I pulled my pencil, opened my notebook. The sound of pages while I was flipping them seems very loud that I was worried the man next to me would wake.
Under the yellow shadow I started writing. The sound of my pencil scribbling down was very amusing. It made me feel there was something alive with me. Everything was motionless. The grey shadow of my pen dancing under the yellow light was the only thing moving.
The next thing I remember is waking up when the man hit me mistakenly by his elbow. For the first time I heard his voice saying “sorry”. It was the only word he spoke during the whole flight.
The airhost announced our arrival. I was confused while everyone was leaving. I didn’t know what to expect more. I was outcast and mute for several hours.
The man at the customs made me live the scenario I created. He asked me the right questions to the answers I prepared. Then the woman at the portal was smiling and saying “I’m sorry but you have to take your shoes and jacket off. I hope it’s ok for you!”
I sat next to a huge glass window overlooking on the planes and the 3D clouds; waiting for my next flight while having my M&M’s. Only then I heard a sound of shoes hitting the ground and a sound of the cleaning trolley wheels. It was the airport cleaner. She came and sat next to me. She spoke to me like she knew me before and I felt the same.
I thought how it was not necessary to find something to remind you of home but rather a feeling of being welcomed. I realized why we say we feel just like home; because we feel it not because we see it.