Seven days.Just seven days in the UK, and I had already discovered that moving to a new country is a beautiful mixture of excitement, confusion, courage, and pretending you know exactly what you are doing.

If you saw me walking around during my first week, you would probably think:”Wow, she is really enjoying her UK experience.”And honestly? I was.But also…I was not.This is the funny thing about new beginnings. You can be grateful and uncomfortable at the same time. You can be happy and overwhelmed. You can be living your dream while quietly figuring out how to survive the reality of it.

By Day 7 in the UK, I had become a professional pretender. Every time someone asked, “How are you finding the UK?”I’d smile confidently and say, “I’m settling in well.”Meanwhile…Google Maps was raising me..And I still didn’t know why every landlord wanted my entire family tree before renting me a room. School had just started, and I was genuinely excited. Walking into lectures felt surreal.”God… this little girl from Nigeria is actually studying in the UK.”I met amazing people from different countries. Everyone sounded intelligent. Everyone looked like they had their lives together. Me?

Then I saw an opportunity to become a Student Ambassador. Without thinking twice, I applied.

Confidence? 100%.

Accommodation? 0%.

Priorities? Also 0%.

Every evening after classes, I transformed into an estate agent.Viewing today. Viewing tomorrow. “This room has just gone.” “We’ve had over 300 applications.”Three hundred?! Are they renting Buckingham Palace?

Then came the day my village people almost won…I missed Nigerian shawarma.You know that shawarma that leaks sauce from both ends, has enough pepper to reset your ancestors, and makes you question your relationship with mayonnaise?That’s the one I was craving.So I confidently walked into a shop.”One chicken shawarma, please.”The man smiled.I smiled back.He handed me my order.I took one confident bite……I stopped chewing.I looked at it. It looked at me. I checked the receipt to make sure they hadn’t mistakenly given me a wrap for people recovering from surgery.Where was the pepper? Where was the cabbage fighting for space? Where was the chicken hiding under layers of sauce? Where was the chaos? This thing was so calm.Even the chicken looked like it had signed a peace treaty. At that moment, I realized…The UK doesn’t shout.Even their shawarma speaks politely.I wanted to ask,”Excuse me… is the flavour coming in a separate package?”I finished it anyway.International students don’t waste money.You cry after eating, not before.

Looking back now, that first week was beautifully chaotic.I was excited.I was broke.I was uncomfortable.I was hunting for accommodation during the day, chasing dreams in lectures, meeting incredible people, volunteering for leadership opportunities……and mourning Nigerian shawarma every night.Yet, I was unbelievably happy.Because deep down, I knew I wasn’t just surviving.I was becoming. And if I could survive British shawarma…I could survive anything the UK had planned for me.

Day 7 in the UK introduced me to a new skill:The art of smiling while your brain is running 100 different background applications. Everywhere I went, people asked the famous question:”Are you okay? “My answer? “Yes, I’m fine.”The confidence in my voice deserved an award.Honestly, I think I deserved an Oscar. Because behind that smile was someone trying to understand a new environment, a new culture, a new system, and a new way of life. But the smile was not completely fake.That is the interesting part.I wasn’t pretending that everything was perfect. I was smiling because I knew I had finally stepped into something I had prayed for. School had opened, and the excitement was real.

Walking into the university, attending lectures, seeing students from different parts of the world, hearing different accents, and meeting new people felt like a movie scene.I remember thinking:”Wow… I am actually here.”The same person who had imagined this moment from thousands of miles away was now sitting in a UK classroom. It was a proud moment.

I started meeting people, making connections, and learning about the opportunities around me. In my usual ambitious way, I even indicated my interest in becoming a Student Ambassador.Looking back, it was actually hilarious.Because here I was, a new international student still trying to understand the UK transport system, still searching for accommodation, still learning where to buy affordable groceries…Yet my mind was already saying:”How can I contribute? How can I represent my university? “That is the beauty of dreams.Sometimes your vision moves faster than your circumstances.

While I was excited about school, another reality was waiting for me:House hunting. Now, nobody prepared me for UK accommodation hunting.I thought finding a house would be simple.

Choose a place.

Pay.

Move in.Simple, right? Wrong. Very wrong.House hunting in the UK felt like applying for a job. Every place wanted references. Some wanted guarantors.Some wanted several months of rent upfront.Some properties disappeared faster than my motivation after checking my bank balance.I started refreshing property websites like it was my full-time job.Viewing after viewing. Application after application. And the answer was always:”We will get back to you.”Those words are dangerous. Because sometimes “we will get back to you” means they are genuinely considering you. Other times, it means you should start emotionally moving on. At some point, I wanted to tell the landlord:”My guarantor is God. Can we continue?”But through all of it, I kept going.

Then came the moment I thought would bring me comfort.Food.I missed home.I missed familiar flavours.I missed food that had personality.So I decided:”Let me get shawarma. Shawarma will fix everything.”I walked into the shop confidently.”One chicken shawarma, please.”The excitement was real.I waited patiently.The moment arrived.The shawarma was handed to me.I opened it.I took the first bite.Silence. I looked at the shawarma.The shawarma looked back at me.Something was wrong.Very wrong. I started asking myself questions.”Is this actually shawarma?” “Did I order the right thing?””Did someone accidentally give me a healthy wrap?”Because this was not the shawarma I knew.Where was the pepper?Where was the flavour explosion?Where was the beautiful Nigerian shawarma chaos that requires extra napkins because the sauce has decided to create its own river? This one was calm.Too calm. Even the chicken looked like it had attended a peace conference before entering the wrap.I laughed.Because what else could I do? I realised something important that day: Even the things you love may come differently in a new country.

Sometimes the adjustment is not just about people, weather, or culture.Sometimes it is about accepting that even shawarma has migrated and changed its personality.But despite the accommodation stress, the unfamiliar food, the homesickness, and the moments of uncertainty…I was happy.Truly happy. And that is what makes that first week special.Was I comfortable? No.Was everything going according to my expectations? Absolutely not.Did I have moments where I wondered how everything would work out? Of course. But happiness is not always found when everything is perfect.Sometimes happiness is found when you realise you are brave enough to start again.I was uncomfortable, but I was growing.I was uncertain, but I was hopeful.I was far from home, but I was building a new chapter.

Can Jesus be my guarantor?”

Day 7 in the UK taught me that life can hold two truths at the same time: You can miss where you came from and still be excited about where you are going.You can struggle and still be grateful.You can smile and still admit that things are not easy. And sometimes, your biggest adjustment in a new country might come through something as simple as ordering shawarma and discovering that Britain has its own version of the food you thought you knew.

Looking back now, I would not change that uncomfortable, funny, confusing, beautiful week.Because every great story begins with a moment when you step into the unknown.And mine began with a smile, a suitcase, a dream…and a very disappointing UK shawarma.