California welcomed me with an earthquake

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To kick-off my new experiences in this strange land, something very distinct to California happened only a few days after I arrived at the end of September 2001. It happened on my first weekend in L.A. right around 8 AM. We were woken up by a moving bed and rattling windows. What seemed like several minutes of movement was probably only a few seconds long. It was my first earthquake! Welcome to California! My fiancé assured me that this was just a small one. Oh great, that’s comforting! What’s a big one like then? He told me that during the big Northridge earthquake in the 1990s he fell out of bed. That’s a big one! This just kept getting better. A million thoughts shot through my head. There is no bunker, so where should we go? Outside? I don’t think so since the electricity wires were hanging old-style in the alleyways. So we stayed inside – away from large bookcases and windows. For a second I also thought that the war was now not only in Afghanistan but had also broken out on the mainland. I thought terrorists were attacking us. My heart was racing and I started feeling tears welling up. It didn’t help that all day and all night helicopters were flying up and down the coast when they were on the lookout for anything and anyone suspicious. 9/11 was this generation’s Pearl Harbor. Secretary of State Colin Powell told the American people on TV to buy gas masks, plastic sheets and tucked tape. Tape? Are you kidding me?

Months later, when I saw the South Park episode in which one of the moms was laying in front of the TV all day and night watching CNN following the 9/11 attacks and waiting for the apocalypse, it reminded me of myself during my first weeks in the U.S. I barely moved away from the TV because I was worried I could miss the announcement for when to get ready to die. When the earthquake happened it was not that far fetched for me to think “the day had come”. But it turned out to just be a small three-point-something. So it was all good…

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