Hello my faithful blog readers!
Long time no talk, I know. I hope all is well back in the Northern parts of America. I’m sorry it’s been so long but sometimes life just has the tendency of getting in the way. For example, on my end of things, I’ve had a trip to Buenos Aires, midterms, a visit from my beloved Chels, a week-long flu epidemic plaguing our entire group, my completion of 8 books in the time that I’ve been here (who knew how much reading you could get done with the absence of wifi), visiting Iguazu falls, a short stint with food poisoning, finals, preparations for my next program (hope you didn’t forget, Israel is up next!) and much, much more. So anyways, it’s been tough to find time to write.
But here I sit, pondering the difficulties of providing a true summary and reflection. How the time has flown so fast, I will never understand. I still think back to my first night here, writing in a pure state of exhaustion as I detailed my Hellish journey en route to this glorious country. That was quickly followed by my explanation of my first few weeks of struggle, confusion and embarrassment. Then, all of a sudden the whole middle portion of my Argentine-adventure passed in the blink of an eye. Blurred by the influx of information, new friends, endless tours and sight-seeing, cross-cultural mishaps, ridiculous encounters, drunken nights, fits of laughter, and learning probably more about this country’s historically rich background than I know about my own. I think at this point I should probably mention to you that I just so happen to be half-way through the classic novel On the Road (book number 9). So if my reflections are seeming a bit on the cliche side, my apologies. But let’s be real, who better contrasts the celebration of freedom with the hardships and instability that come along with our fleeting youth than Mr. Kerouac, himself? I think no one. Anyways, I feel that as I count down my last days of my study abroad experience, there’s no better time than the present to kick up the over-indulged analyzation a few notches and really cheese it up for you all. So I will continue, in my first real attempt to be deep.
I don’t quite know how it happened, but somewhere between the impatient restaurant staff, impossible Argentine accent, consistently-enraged drivers, ancient elevator and water-heating systems, stray dog-littered streets, incessant cat calls, over-priced clothing, crazed soccer fans, painfully beautiful women, irresistible ice cream, and never-ending bus rides, I somehow managed to fall in love with this country. I know it’s been just shy of 3 months, but after my time here, I can’t help feeling like I’ll forever be, just slightly, part Argentine. I’m trying to put my finger on exactly when it happened, but if I’m being honest with myself, I think I knew it all along. Of course, I’ve missed all of you, and Starbucks, but something about being here felt right pretty much immediately. I could probably attribute it to Sylvia--to her amazing cooking and nurturing ways, or perhaps our professors who quickly facebook friended us, took us on field trips to the grocery store, and shared with us their most embarrassing moments, all along teaching us more than I’ve ever learned from any PhD-licensed instructor. It also could have been the random relationships I’ve built with the various employees of all my most frequented spots here in Rosario: the well dressed laundromat worker who always refers to me as her amor; the owner of the one vegetarian restaurant who relentlessly tries to teach me spanish words for utensils and napkins; the entirely male staff of the convenience store next to my apartment where we begin every evening by drinking a few of the cheapest beers Rosario has to offer. They use their collective 4 known English words to greet us, and then switch to Spanish in order to converse with us about music, school, politics, soccer and of course, beer. It could have been viewing one of the seven wonders of the world, zip-lining through the jungle, attending a genuine South American soccer game, horse back riding in Argentina’s country side, touring the Andes, seeing a tango show in its world capital, or simply wandering around the streets of a million-person, beautiful city that really won me over. Who knows, really? All I do know is that I’m officially convinced that Argentina is all it’s cracked up to be, and definitely one of the most amazing places on the planet. It’s given me three months of pure joy and leaving here may very well feel like the worst break up of all time. So on that happy note, I thank you all for being a part of this portion of my journey with me. I don't know if I succeeded in being deep, but it has been real, and a pleasure writing for you all. Until next time folks, and more specifically, until Tel Aviv!
Love,
Henya
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