My 9 Biggest Struggles During My First Year in America

Nobody tells you what it's actually like.

You watch American movies, you learn the language, you think you're prepared. Then you land, and within the first week something completely ridiculous throws you off – and you realize that prepared and ready are two very different things.

I moved from Germany to Charlotte, North Carolina, and my first year was a mix of excitement, confusion, and some genuinely humbling moments. Here are the nine things that hit me hardest.

1. The Water Smelled Like a Swimming Pool

I'm not being dramatic. The tap water in Charlotte has a noticeable chlorine smell, and when you've grown up on European tap water, it's a shock to your entire face.

The worst part wasn't drinking it – it was making tea. We're German. We drink a good bit of tea and coffee (yes, beer, too... lots of it). And suddenly every cup tasted like pool water. We spent weeks wondering what was wrong before we tried a Brita filter and everything snapped back to normal.

The shower situation took longer to accept. But you adapt. You just stop noticing it eventually, which is either a win or mildly concerning.

2. Phone Calls Were Terrifying

I had studied English for nine years. I could read it fine, understand most things in person, hold a conversation. But phone calls? Total disaster.

Here's the thing nobody tells you: you lip-read more than you think. Remove the face, add some audio compression, and suddenly you're asking people to repeat themselves three times per sentence. Throw in an accent – any accent – and you might as well be learning a new language on the spot.

The worst calls were bureaucratic ones. Trying to sort out a work permit issue over the phone, in your second language, not sure if you heard the instructions right, afraid to sound incompetent – that specific combination of stress is hard to describe to someone who hasn't experienced it.

3. Speaking Fluently in Real Time

Understanding English and producing English under pressure are completely different skills.

In school I read books, watched movies, learned vocabulary. What I did not practice: spontaneous conversation with real stakes. So in my first year, whenever I needed to say something that wasn't simple, I'd go mentally offline for a second – translating from German, building the sentence, then delivering it about three beats too late. Not exactly the impression you want to make.

Witty responses? Forget it. Banter? Maybe in year three.

The funny part is that everyone around you has no idea this is happening. They just think you're a little quiet or thoughtful. The internal experience is more like a slow-motion collision.

4. The Imperial System Is Genuinely Baffling

Feet. Inches. Miles. Fahrenheit. Ounces. Pounds.

I understand why Americans use it – they grew up with it and it's intuitive to them. But coming from a metric country, it feels like someone deliberately made measurement harder for no reason.

My height fluctuated by about 10 centimeters depending on which conversion I half-remembered. I told people I was anywhere between 5'9" and 6'1" during that first year. For reference: I'm 6'1". The math is not hard, but when you're juggling a new country, a new job, and a new everything, it's one more thing your brain has to do.

Weight is still weird. I weigh myself in kilograms. I have no choice – it's how my brain works. Doctor's offices asked for pounds and I did the conversion wrong on more than one occasion.

5. Prices at the Register Were Never What the Tag Said

Germany: price on the sticker is what you pay. Tax is included. You hand over the money, done.

America: price on the sticker is a starting point. Then there's state tax, county tax, city tax, and sometimes a tax on the tax, I think. You find out the real price when you're already at the register with your wallet open.

The rate also depends on what you're buying, where the store is, and apparently the mood of local government. I spent months mentally rounding up by some amount and still getting it wrong.

Also, the fact that fresh vegetables cost more than a bag of chips remains one of the great American mysteries.

6. Finding the Foods from Home

Every European immigrant goes through this phase. You spend enormous energy trying to track down the exact bread, the exact condiment, the exact snack that you grew up eating. It becomes a mission. A slightly sad one.

The truth is: some things you'll eventually find, usually at an import store or the international aisle of a Whole Foods, for three times the price. Other things you just won't find. And the sooner you stop chasing them and start finding new things you actually like here, the happier you'll be.

It took me longer than I'd like to admit to learn this. Greek yogurt was the turning point, somehow.

7. Waiting on the Government for My Work Permit

This one wasn't funny at the time and is only slightly funny now.

My work permit took over 100 days to process. The official timeline said 90 days maximum. So I spent ten extra days in complete limbo – no income, no real ability to call and ask what was happening, no real way to do anything except wait and hope I'd filled everything out correctly months earlier.

You don't realize how much of your identity is tied to being able to work until you're legally prohibited from doing it. It's a specific kind of helplessness that immigrants in the legal process know well. The paperwork is filed, the fee is paid, and now you just… wait. And trust a system that has no particular incentive to be fast.

8. Memorizing My Social Security Number

Your SSN is your identity in the US. You need it for everything – doctors, employers, banks, landlords, credit applications. You're also told to guard it like your life depends on it.

So here's the conflict: you need to recall it constantly, but you're not supposed to write it down where anyone could find it.

My solution was hiding it in plain sight – written as part of a fake long phone number. A thief sees a string of digits that looks like a contact. I see my SSN. It worked. I'm not sure it was a good idea, but I was proud of it at the time.

It took months before I had it actually memorized without the cheat sheet.

9. The Air Conditioning Was Trying to Kill Me

We arrived in early September. It was warm outside – 85°F, people in shorts and flip flops. We went to the mall to buy things for our new apartment. We both had colds within the week.

American air conditioning is a cultural institution. Stores, offices, restaurants – all kept at temperatures that make no sense if you just walked in from a North Carolina summer. The gap between outside (90°F) and inside (68°F) is roughly the same gap as outdoor Germany in October versus a sauna. Your body does not like it.

The office was especially bad. You'd be sweating walking in from the parking lot, sit down at your desk, and slowly freeze. Sneak up to the thermostat, nudge it up two degrees, and within twenty minutes someone across the room would announce that it "feels hot in here."

It does not feel hot in here. It feels like a meat locker. But you're outvoted, and you're new, so you go buy a cardigan.

The first year is the hardest. Then something shifts – you stop comparing everything to home, you start finding your rhythm, and one day you realize you haven't thought about the chlorine smell in months.

That's when you know you made it.

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Those Papi Eyes is a brand for immigrants, expats, and anyone who built a second home without forgetting their first. Find us at thosepapieyes.com.