Saba Nisar Soomro: Seventeen Smiles and Lessons from Berkeley
When Habib University asked me to write a one-pager about my Study Abroad experience, I didn’t know where to begin. How do you compress all the experiences into a single page? So, I’ll start imperfectly, the way it all began.
Dad’s first reaction to me getting in
When I first applied, I had no real intention of going due to financial constraints. I still applied, and I remember my presentation in that room with Mr. Ali Khalid and an instructor; I was so anxious that I decided to present sitting down. I gave it everything I had. Deep down, I wasn’t scared of rejection. I feared acceptance — without a scholarship. And that’s exactly what happened. When I got selected for UC Berkeley without a scholarship, my parents were proud but quiet. My mother told me, “Your father said there’s no scholarship, so what’s there to celebrate?” I laughed, but I was also angry at the uncertainty. And then, I gave up. Or at least, I thought I did. But here’s the first lesson this experience gave me: don’t give up until the very last minute. Because a few months later, I found myself on a plane.
This is the part that no one talks about. Everything felt unpredictable — the visa process, the political situation back home, my own doubts. When I finally left, everything that could go wrong did. I missed my connecting flight, spent a night alone in Turkey, and when I finally reached America, the person who was supposed to give me my apartment keys was unreachable. With two suitcases, no jacket, no Wi- Fi, and no charging on my phone, I dragged myself to a hotel. My first American meal was Dave’s Hot Chicken, something I had only ever watched in videos, eaten through tears, in a strange room, jetlagged and scared. That was rock bottom. That’s where I decided my nightmares would end, so I tucked them away silently in that room before I checked out the next morning. And that’s when I learned my second lesson: sometimes everything will go wrong, but you still have to keep moving forward.
My first meal in America
The first two weeks in Berkeley were rough. I kept asking myself: did I come here for nothing? Why do people dream of this place? What am I missing? But then, slowly, things shifted.
Berkeley had this strange balance to it — its streets were calm enough to let you breathe, but always alive with something new if you looked closely. Some evenings the sun would hit the hills just right, turning them golden, while on other days they were shrouded in fog and clouds, a sight just as beautiful. The Berkeley Marina stretched out in an endless blue, so cold yet always inviting. I mostly walked everywhere because I couldn’t afford Ubers (thank God), discovering new corners of the city along the way. And in those walks, there were moments when strangers smiled at me. I remember one day counting: seventeen smiles, including five strangers who stopped to talk. That’s when I learned my third lesson – people are not inherently bad. Stay open. Talk to them. Ask for help. Help when you can.
Berkeley Marina
Every weekend, I went to San Francisco. The first time I saw the Golden Gate Bridge, I just stood there, stunned. It wasn’t a picture anymore. It was right there, massive and beautiful. Pier 39 with friends, sea lions napping in the sun while we joked about wanting the same life as them, and the 4th of July fireworks over the water – those moments will always live within me.
Golden Gate Bridge
But the real magic wasn’t always in the big moments. It was in Oreos at midnight, and noodles almost every day because they were cheap and easy. It was in feeling “extra” one night and making chicken karahi for the first time — and actually nailing it. I sent pictures to my family, proud. It was in my friends sneaking cupcakes and egg sandwiches from the I- House dining hall for me. It was in sitting outside late at night, wondering if it was mist or rain. It was in the rush of running to catch the bus, sometimes making it, sometimes not. It was in chasing sunsets everyday because every sunset was prettier than the last. In trying a new coffee shop every week, and somehow, finding that those became the most productive hours of my whole time there. That was my fourth lesson — don’t wait for “big” moments to change you. Sometimes the small, ordinary things are where the real magic lives.
Chasing sunsets
I embarrassed myself sometimes — like the day I couldn’t open a jar of ginger garlic paste and finally walked downstairs to ask a random delivery guy to open it for me. He laughed, opened it, and we ended up talking about food. That was my fifth lesson: don’t be afraid to embarrass yourself. Everyone has their firsts. Nobody will remember as much as you think they will.
Berkeley taught me balance too. There were days I studied hard, rushing from one class to another with just 30 minutes in between. I learned how to grab food, walk 15 minutes, and finish eating all within those 30 minutes. My professor brought snacks to our 3- hour class every single time — now I associate granola bars with care. But there were also days I traveled, explored, and even risked being reckless — like going to LA the day before an exam. I winged it, and I was fine. Because I had studied consistently, and I also let myself live. That was my sixth lesson: don’t compromise on life. Find the right balance of work and play.
Road trip to LA
I used to be scared of the homeless people I passed every day, but by the end, I greeted them. I used to hesitate before talking to strangers, but soon I was asking people about their cars, their pets, how they like their steak. I met people from all over the world and of all age groups in my classes, and I realized something else — my seventh lesson: talk to people like they’re your age, and like you’re theirs. Some will love you, some will hate you, but they’ll always remember you. My professors, the homeless people on the street, strangers I met on buses, even the airport security personnel — they all remember me. And that, in itself, feels like a kind of success.
By the end, I had changed. I had learned how to cook, how to budget, how to talk to people, how to make memories out of nothing. I learned how to live through the loneliness and through the joy. I learned how to leave behind fear. I learned how to make friends, and how to be alone. I learned how to walk into new places with my head high, even when I felt lost inside. Two months later, I came back as someone else. More confident, more curious, more alive. I left pieces of myself in Berkeley, but I brought back someone new.
