I [..] originally belong to the Islamic Republic of Pakistan, a country located in South Asia that includes the second largest Muslim population in the world after Indonesia. I have lived in Pakistan's largest city, Karachi, for the past thirteen years until my father, who is now a US citizen, decided to call me up for a couple of years. I never bothered to rethink my father's invitation and fled to the United States like a dog chasing a bone. The first impression I received after setting foot on American soil was that of paradise in disguise. The climate, the atmosphere, the environment, the lush greenery, everything had a particular and unique aura. Even though the people I had to live with back then weren't quite what I wanted them to be, I could still feel my heart beating fast with joy and happiness. Everything and everyone around me seemed to have a distinctive quality and my lively eyes refused to leave the sight without being fully observed. The hardest thing to stomach was the cleanliness; Although cleanliness is half of our Islamic faith and has great significance, my fellow Pakistanis still tend to throw garbage around, which is why most of the areas and streets in Pakistan are more occupied with garbage instead of flora and green. I liked the fact that people caught littering had to pay fines which helped maintain discipline and I would have liked the Pakistani authorities to enforce the same rule too. Enrolling in my final year of middle school was another factor through which I learned a great deal. I remember I had to appear for a language test before admission and I did very well, but I was still placed in the second one... halfway through the paper... .it taught me so much that I came back very smart. I began to observe that Pakistanis identify their fellow countrymen by the cars they own, the brands they wear, and the schools they send their children to. In America people rarely care about clothing, but here they look at you strangely if you wear something worn out. Even enrolling in a school after returning became difficult because I almost failed the entrance test because I started to suck at Urdu and also the studies here were more advanced than what I studied in America. I was used to multiple choice questions, but here I had to memorize, cram, and write long answers to each question that I wasn't used to. I also became aware of the fact that as a young girl I could no longer ride a bicycle in the street and I had to keep my head covered all the time, which I never liked..