Written in the fall of my senior year at the University of Maryland, for a creative writing class, looking back on my first day of college. I've left it mostly as it was.

“Can I get capsicums on that, please?” I say, pointing my finger at the peppers across the glass window.

The server asks with an attitude, “What did you say?”

I feel the rush from the twenty students standing behind me, waiting while I decide my next move. I think to myself, did I say something wrong? These plump, crispy fruits are definitely called capsicums.

I point to the capsicums again and say, “Can I get these, please?”

“You mean peppers?” I nod my head in approval.

I swiftly grab the plate with my wrap and thank the server. Being polite is important — I have to remember that. I was told that Americans thank people and say please all the time here. It would seem rude if I didn't. It's the American thing to do.

I look around, trying to gain insight on how things work from here. It is my first day starting college in a foreign country. I don't want to start off on the wrong foot or accidentally offend someone. I am a bit worried about understanding the ways of this place. I shrug my shoulders in confusion while roaming the middle of the South Campus Diner. I hear a voice behind me: “Looks like you're lost. Follow me.”

I look back and am glad to see Nick. He lives next door to me, and he was polite enough to offer to show me around. I nervously follow him as he leads the way.

He says, “The food here is at best decent. Definitely try the pasta with Alfredo sauce and chipotle pesto — it's the only good thing they have to offer. I eat that for lunch every day.”

I am dazzled by the many options. This variety is quite extraordinary compared to what is served back home. My mom always joked about how she ate the same watered-down curry and boiled potatoes at her dining hall every day in India.

We walk towards the water dispenser while Nick points at the various dining options. I say, “They give unlimited soda refills? Are they trying to give everyone diabetes?”

Nick says, “I don't drink soda anymore. It's so unhealthy, there is so much processed sugar in it.”

This is all new to me. I had never imagined I would be eating pasta or salads for lunch. I was used to eating a home-cooked Indian meal after school, but I was ready to embrace this change.

I say, “I have never heard of Dr Pepper. Is it any good?”

Nick replies, “Oh, you should try it. It's an American classic.”

Like a little boy at a candy store with twinkling eyes, I dispense Dr Pepper and am ready to embrace this unhealthy style of living. I take my first sip of American culture and I am left completely horrified. Who in their right mind would mix cherry and Coke and call it a drink? This is an abomination. At this moment I realise that Americans don't have a good sense of taste.

I walk over to the cashier to pay for my food. The cashier happily says, “Hello! How are you?” I am dazzled by this question. Why is she asking me how I am? Do I know her? I'm puzzled about why she would want to know how my day is going. Is this a thing people do?

I awkwardly reply, “I'm good,” and rush away to sit with kids who live on my floor.

I quietly sit down, looking down at the table. Here I am, miles away from home amongst people who look nothing like me. Why would they want to talk to me? With what courage I could muster, I introduce myself to everyone at the table. Everyone here is super friendly, which is quite strange for me. I see a few surprised faces when I tell them I'm from India. They all have a lot of questions for me. Most of the students at the University of Maryland are in-state, and only 5% are international students.

Someone asks me, “Why did you come to Maryland?” Little did I know that this question would haunt me for the entirety of my college years. Whenever anyone realises that I'm from India, they ask me why I came to Maryland. I think of what I put in my college essay, talking about how Maryland has a great computer science program — but deep down, even I didn't know why I chose Maryland. Of all the 50 states here, I chose Maryland, a state I did not even know existed before I applied.

It was now time to attend my first class of the day. I had to navigate my way through this colossal campus to the Computer Science Building, which I would later know as the stinky sweat lounge. I was told that my journey would be a long one and that I should take the Campus Circulator bus from Stamp, which would drop me off near the CS building.

I make my way over to Stamp. Here I see a cluster of buses with strange names and numbers on them. With my lack of research and careless attitude, I make a decision to get on one of these buses, hoping it'll pass through the CS building. I put on my headphones like every single student on the bus and fall into a slumber. Minutes pass and the bus is making its way through campus. I've been on this bus for over 15 minutes and it hasn't made a stop yet. I think back to student orientation, where I was told that the campus is massive. I just assume that it will take me a while. What's the worst that can happen?

I look at my phone, troubled. I am late to class and this bus still hasn't made a stop. I look around and nobody seems to be in a rush. I'm too embarrassed to ask what is happening. I sit back and decide to leave it to fate. The bus finally makes a stop, but it's at a shopping complex. The bus driver announces that this is the last stop and that this bus is ending service. I look around worriedly. I am trapped somewhere in College Park. I don't know where I am and don't know how to get back home.

The way I deal with problems is what has gotten me here. I just let things run their course, hoping they will solve themselves, and I make rash decisions rather than calculated ones. I am leaving everything behind, moving to this strange new country. There are so many little things I didn't even consider — not being able to see my friends and family all the time, switching to the imperial system, and most importantly, not being able to eat good Indian food anymore. And now I'm lost.

I walk around what appears to be a housing complex. I don't know enough people in this country to ask for help. I can't even call my parents, because it would be too late in the night and I don't want to disturb them. My parents are usually there to help me out when I'm lost, but here I am, all alone. I try to rationalise what I should do. I roam around until I see a giant blue warehouse across the street. At that point I realise that I have taken the bus to IKEA.

Suddenly I see a familiar red bus pulling into the stop I was at a while ago. I decide to make a run for it. I'm running after it like my life depends on it, but I know I am too late. The bus pulls out of the stop and starts on its course. I stop to catch my breath and think, well, I'm stuck here forever.

In a moment of complete despair, a black hatchback stops next to me and the window rolls down. The lady in the car says, “I'm so sorry you missed your bus. I was honking behind the bus to get it to stop.”

I say, “It's okay, I'll wait for the next one.”

She says, “Do you want a ride? You look like a student. I am going to campus as well.”

My parents have always told me to never get into a car with strangers. But at this point I don't care enough, and she seems nice. Americans are always very nice. I thank her and get in the car. She says, “I saw you run after the bus. I was talking to my husband and I told him I feel bad about this kid missing the bus — I'm going to stop and help him.” She tells me more about herself and starts making small talk. She works at Stamp in accounting.

I am a bit taken aback by this person. Coming to America wasn't how I expected it to be. It wasn't as glamorous as it's shown on TV, nor did Dr Pepper taste good — but the real reason to stay is the people. Americans are way more helpful than I expected them to be. They always want to have a conversation and are ready to embrace something new. I learned a new human value: kindness. By putting myself out of my comfort zone, I can learn about a new culture and grow as a person.

She says, holding a red can in her hand, “Would you like some Dr Pepper?”