So, let's start with my arrival in this country.

I was fresh out of high school, just got my exams result and it wasn't how I had hoped (but it was better than I expected). But the result I got wasn't good enough for me to be accepted into the Foundation of Science track at a public university, thus making my medical journey a bit hard.

I won't lie, I had sunk into a something like pre-depression. I didn't know what to do, I was like 'you know, whatever comes my way I'll just accept it'.

I got two offers, one to matriculation in Science and the other in Foundation in Law. My mum was a bit excited when I got the offer but I was doubtful about it since I still wanted to a doctor.

So, one day my mum suddenly called her friend who has two sons studying...here.

And that was literally the start of my long, long, long journey.

I went to premed classes organized for us by our agent for a month. But then there was a bit of a problem in the last week of my premed.

What kind of problem you ask? I can't tell you, but it was big enough for many of my colleagues to switch to local private universities.

Me? I was adamant. And my parents supported me, too.

So that brings us to my second half of the journey.

During the two months where it wasn't clear whether we would be given the greenlight to fly, I stayed at my grandparents to look after them.

Boy, was I grateful for the obstacle we faced before flying here.

Because on September 6th that year, my grandmother passed away. And as my mother said, "There was a reason God didn't let you fly right away. He wanted you to take care of your grandmother for the last time."

The day she died, I cried non-stop. That night I slept with my mother, wondering what would I do when she dies.

Sorry, getting a bit weepy here.

Anyway, I stayed with my grandfather to comfort him for a month after that. And when the day for me to finally fly, it was hard seeing him cry.

And now we're in the third part of my journey.

I wasn't sure why but I had high expectations about this new country I was about to call my second home. I guess that's the effect of living with so many privileges, but when I touched down, I was a bit surprised.

The airport wasn't as nice as ours, but it was okay. There was no such as thing as lanes. They honked a lot. There were a lot of rubbish on the side roads.

I immediately felt homesick.

Before we made our way to my city, we took pictures at the airport holding banners saying, "WELCOME FRESHIES!" and then we went to the country's historical site to take pictures again , in the scorching sun and the jetlag and the street was so busy  I was fuming with my seniors.

Get a move on!, I screamed internally. It was freaking hot, the sun was in our faces and I have low tolerance for people who wants to take LOTS AND LOTS of pictures in that kind of weather. The people who passed by us yelled "WELCOME! WELCOME!" because, well, due to the big-ass banner we had.

And finally, after everyone had taken their pictures, we boarded the bus and made our way home.

Which will bring us to my first week abroad, alone with no families and strangers I share the house with.

But I'll tell you all about it later. Right now, I need to sleep.