PLEASE HELP! any suggestions would be greatly appreciated.
I was eight years old when my parents left me at my grandparents' house for my summer vacation before the fourth grade. Any other child would have been excited to visit their grandparents and be spoiled by them but I was not. I would have been except for the fact that I was staying with them for two months and in Mexico, which was very different from where I lived.
The only other time I had gone to Mexico was when I was two, which I could not remember. Therefore, my second visit was more like a first. Here we can go to the nearest grocery store and buy packaged foods or get in our cars to go to work everyday. In the small town that my grandparents lived everyone made their meals from fresh groceries and ride horses to work in the fields everyday.
It was a big culture shock for me and things only got more interesting the longer I stayed there. The men got up early at five in the morning to milk the cows and feed the other animals on the farm. The women started breakfast for when the men got back from their work. After I became familiar with the town, I was sent on errands to get the groceries and tortilla dough at the mill that would be used for lunch and dinner.
After a while, I got used to the routine and different way of life, but occasionally I would get a small surprise. My mother had cooked traditional Mexican food, such as mole and enchiladas, but for the most part, she cooked American food. When my grandmother introduced me to menudo, I was definitely taken aback. Menudo consisted of pancita, or tripe, and pig's feet. Yum, right? I am sure you could understand my apprehension, especially as an eight year old. My mother had obviously taught me manners and not wanting to offend my grandmother, I tentively lifted a spoonful to my mouth.
Now would be the time where I say that despite my reservations I actually enjoyed it, but that would be a lie. The pancita had a slimy, spongy texture and the pig's feet-well; I don't even want to think about it. Once I tried that, I figured that I could try almost anything-almost. By the end of my visit, I had experienced a completely new life and felt a little out of place when I returned home. That summer I became closer with my culture and found that I enjoyed it. I loved getting in touch with my humble roots and would encourage everyone to do the same.
*what category should this essay go under?
I was eight years old when my parents left me at my grandparents' house for my summer vacation before the fourth grade. Any other child would have been excited to visit their grandparents and be spoiled by them but I was not. I would have been except for the fact that I was staying with them for two months and in Mexico, which was very different from where I lived.
The only other time I had gone to Mexico was when I was two, which I could not remember. Therefore, my second visit was more like a first. Here we can go to the nearest grocery store and buy packaged foods or get in our cars to go to work everyday. In the small town that my grandparents lived everyone made their meals from fresh groceries and ride horses to work in the fields everyday.
It was a big culture shock for me and things only got more interesting the longer I stayed there. The men got up early at five in the morning to milk the cows and feed the other animals on the farm. The women started breakfast for when the men got back from their work. After I became familiar with the town, I was sent on errands to get the groceries and tortilla dough at the mill that would be used for lunch and dinner.
After a while, I got used to the routine and different way of life, but occasionally I would get a small surprise. My mother had cooked traditional Mexican food, such as mole and enchiladas, but for the most part, she cooked American food. When my grandmother introduced me to menudo, I was definitely taken aback. Menudo consisted of pancita, or tripe, and pig's feet. Yum, right? I am sure you could understand my apprehension, especially as an eight year old. My mother had obviously taught me manners and not wanting to offend my grandmother, I tentively lifted a spoonful to my mouth.
Now would be the time where I say that despite my reservations I actually enjoyed it, but that would be a lie. The pancita had a slimy, spongy texture and the pig's feet-well; I don't even want to think about it. Once I tried that, I figured that I could try almost anything-almost. By the end of my visit, I had experienced a completely new life and felt a little out of place when I returned home. That summer I became closer with my culture and found that I enjoyed it. I loved getting in touch with my humble roots and would encourage everyone to do the same.
*what category should this essay go under?
