When my plane touched down at LAX, I was armed with two suitcases, one backpack, and an unshakable belief that American coffee couldn’t possibly be that bad. As it turns out, I was wrong about a lot of things — coffee was just the beginning. Coming from Italy to study at Caltech as someone obsessed with biology and chemistry felt like stepping into a science-themed sitcom: every day full of new discoveries, mild confusion, and occasional laughter at myself.
In Italy, I grew up surrounded by Renaissance art, endless conversation over espresso, and a general sense that time slows down enough for you to actually taste life. At Caltech, time moves at roughly the speed of light — which is poetic, considering half the students seem to be conducting physics experiments before breakfast. I thought I was ready for the culture shock, but nothing could have prepared me for the combination of brilliant chaos and sunny optimism that defines life in Pasadena.
The first few days were a blur of introductions, acronyms, and free snacks at orientation events. Thankfully, the Caltech International Offices — a wonderful safety net for all of us foreigners trying to translate “how do I get a driver’s license?” into real action — saved me more than once. They handled visa paperwork, offered cultural programs, and even explained in detail what “credit score” meant (a concept that confused me almost as much as American small talk).
Moving to Caltech wasn’t just about learning advanced lab techniques or discussing organic molecules until 2 a.m. It was about adjusting to a new rhythm — one that sometimes felt like juggling three beakers, two time zones, and an avalanche of acronyms, all while trying not to accidentally call professors by their first names (which, surprise, is totally normal here).
But amidst all the awkwardness and amazement, something beautiful began to happen. I started to find my balance — half Italian heart, half Caltech curiosity, and a growing appreciation for both sides of the Atlantic.
My first real “welcome to America” moment didn’t happen in a classroom-it happened in a grocery store. In Italy, I could navigate a supermarket blindfolded — tomatoes in glowing reds, pasta aisles that felt like churches, and cheese sections that practically performed symphonies. In Pasadena, I wandered through sixteen brands of peanut butter before quietly panicking. Why were there so many options? And why was the bread so sweet? I spent nearly twenty minutes comparing “organic, cruelty-free, non-GMO” labels before deciding that survival meant choosing at random and hoping for the best.
Then there was the coffee situation. I’ll never forget the first time I ordered an “espresso” on campus and received what can only be described as a very confused Americano in a very large cup. Italians don’t really do to-go coffee — we drink it standing at the bar, fast, like a science experiment in caffeine absorption. Here, my classmates walked to lectures holding cups the size of flower pots. I learned quickly that an iced latte is considered breakfast, lunch, and a lifestyle.
Academically, the shock was just as powerful — though in a completely different way. In Italy, professors have a sort of mythical presence, and you address them like royalty. At Caltech, students casually call their professors by their first names, email them memes, and occasionally grab lunch together. The first time someone said, “You can just ask Mike about that enzyme,” I looked around, expecting Mike to be another student. Nope. Mike was the head of a research group — and, apparently, my new lab advisor.
Even in the lab, the dynamic was different. Back home, labs feel structured and formal. During my high school experiences, I was always forced to follow the protocols and stay quiet; at Caltech, the energy is almost theatrical. Ideas fly around faster than you can write them down. Mistakes aren’t met with disappointment but rather with curiosity. I dropped a sample once and nearly apologized in three languages, only for my postdoc to laugh and say, “Science isn’t art unless something explodes.” That’s when I realized experimentation here is as much about creativity as it is precision. Academically, though, what surprised me most was how human professors were. In Italy, teaching often feels like a cathedral — formal, structured, and serious. At Caltech, someone casually told me, “Just ask Dave if you’re confused.” I nodded politely, expecting Dave to be another student… until I learned he was a department head. In that moment, I understood the real cultural revolution wasn’t in measurements — it was in mindset.
Outside the classroom, American campus culture is its own world. People actually cheered at sporting events! In Italy, we have soccer fans, but Caltech’s “interhouse” vibe felt like stepping into a friendly sitcom. Students host themed dinners, play softball, and have something called “Ditch Day,” which confused me deeply until I learned it’s practically a rite of passage. I even joined the International Student Programs’ art event called Art & Soul, thinking it was a meditation class — it wasn’t, but it did introduce me to some of my best friends. We craft necklaces together and it was fun!
Through all of it, the International Offices were my steady compass. They weren’t just bureaucrats hiding behind visa forms; they were human translators of American life. Their International Student Orientation helped me find my footing, not only by explaining U.S. academic systems but also by answering random existential questions like “Why are dorm rooms so cold?” and “Can I eat oranges from campus trees?” (The answer: technically yes, but don’t be surprised if a squirrel disagrees with your decision.)
Each day, I adjusted a little more — understanding that “How are you?” doesn’t really mean someone expects a full report, and that driving everywhere isn’t just convenience, it’s survival. I learned to appreciate air conditioning, free refills, and the fact that everyone, even strangers, smile at you. It felt disarmingly kind, even if it took me a while to stop instinctively checking if someone waved at me by mistake.
Finding My Place (and My People)
After the initial culture shock settled — or maybe I just stopped flinching every time someone said “Have a nice day!” — life at Caltech started to take shape. Slowly, I built a new rhythm made of lab experiments, late-night study sessions, and a growing list of places where the coffee was almost drinkable. I remember looking for funny videos, and definitely I was touched by this one. I attacked below, it is so incredibly realistic! And for us there is NO TIP!
Being a biochemistry lover in the land of innovation was like walking into a candy store with a microscope. I’d spend hours in the lab, half in awe of the equipment and half in admiration of the people using it. Science here wasn’t just a subject — it was a lifestyle. People didn’t just talk about discoveries; they lived them, breathed them, and occasionally dreamed about them between midterms and caffeine refills. One labmate once described the mitochondria as “straight-up majestic,” and honestly, I couldn’t even argue.
But beyond the experiments and equations, the true adventure was outside the lab — in everyday life. I never expected to need a unit conversion app just to survive a supermarket trip. Suddenly, distances were in miles instead of kilometers. My brain still quietly panics when someone says something is “ten miles away” — should I pack snacks? A tent? It feels like a small expedition. Then there was the gallon situation. At home, milk comes in tidy one-liter cartons. Here? You buy four liters at a time, and the jug looks like gym equipment. Even pasta sauce jars could double as flower vases. From coffees to cars, everything seemed five sizes larger. I remember thinking, “If portions reflect ambition, no wonder Americans dream big.”
I built a circle of friends through the International Student Programs (ISP), where everyone had their own “Wait, what?” story. One person from the UK still couldn’t accept tipping culture. Another learned that “medium drink” here means “enough liquid to water a small garden.” We swapped confessions, shared cultural missteps, and celebrated each small victory — like learning what “sophomore” actually means.
The International Offices truly became our anchor. From helping decode visa forms to explaining campus traditions, they transformed confusion into community. ISP events like World Fest and Art & Soul gave me chances to meet others who felt that same blend of awe and homesickness. They reminded me that feeling lost sometimes is just part of finding something extraordinary.
Through cooking Italian dinners in the dorm kitchen and joking that my American friends measured pasta “in gallons,” I started to feel that beautiful middle ground where worlds overlap. My heart was still Italian — passionate, expressive, unreasonably devoted to real espresso — but my mind was becoming a little Californian: curious, fearless, and open to every new experiment life offered.
Looking back, I often laugh at how terrified and excited I was stepping off that plane from Italy, clutching my passport like it was a lucky charm. I worried about speaking English all day, about understanding the American jokes, about whether my passion for biology and chemistry would be enough to keep up with the brilliant minds around me. What I didn’t realize then was that belonging doesn’t come from instantly understanding everything — it comes through a long and continuous process.
I still measure temperatures in Celsius and feel personally offended when someone reheats pasta in the microwave, but I’ve also learned to love the small American quirks that once puzzled me. Maybe life is a little sweeter in miles and gallons, because it teaches you that there’s more than one way to measure meaning.
My advice to future international students? Pack your curiosity — and your humor. Expect confusion, expect joy, expect to discover sides of yourself you didn’t know existed. Find your people, visit the International Offices whenever the bureaucracy feels impossible, and let every misstep become part of your story.
Now, when I walk through the sunlit Caltech campus, between palm trees and lab buildings that hum with possibility, I can’t help but smile. I came here for science, but along the way, I found synergy — between espresso and iced coffee, formulas and freedom, culture and curiosity. Somewhere between kilometers and miles, I didn’t just adjust — I grew.
