At least that means there’s progress, but this last
week has been a bit challenging.
Last Saturday I went to Plaza de Mayo by myself. It
was a good feeling to be completely self-sufficient. I took a tour of Casa
Rosada, the equivalent of our White House, and saw where the president
addresses the people and does her work. It was particularly cool because the
next day I saw her (yes, the president it a her), on the news in one of the
rooms I had just seen. She was saying that the Argentine people will keep the
Falkland Islands from Britain (tensions are rising over the issue).
Sunday I went to San Telmo with Jessica. It was fun
to explore the market and see all the artisans and their work. I bought a few
pairs of earrings, but I wanted to buy a lot more. I found a lot of artisans
were from Peru, which is exciting because I’m going to Peru and they will
probably be cheaper there. Then we got pizza in a cute little restaurant and
headed to Konex for Bridget’s birthday. We went to an Onda Vaga concert. Jessica
and I hadn’t heard much of their music. So when the first group got on stage
and sang 8-10 songs, we thought the concert was over—but they were just the
openers. The real Onda Vaga was much better and the crowd knew every word to
every song. It was fun to be part of something that was so Argentine. I really
liked the music, although I thought the crowd was a little wild. But then
again, I don’t like big crowds, especially when they’re drinking and smoking
pot. (On a side note, pot is really common here. Everyone at the concert was
smoking and no one seemed to care). It was still fun to swing to the beat of
the music with Argentines on every side of me. Overall it was a good night.
But the best part of my week is that I got a package
from Dorothy! She is simply the sweetest. I got yummy peanut butter to satisfy
my craving of home, lemon ginger tea to make me feel the comforts of home,
alien chocolates to connect me to outer space, sandwich baggies for my peanut
butter and jelly sandwiches, and awesome stickers with inspirational quotes.
But most importantly I got the gift of love. I know it’s a simple gesture to
send something so basic, but it speaks leaps and bounds. <3
On Monday I had a day off, but I forget to tell our
host mom that we didn’t have school. So she was waiting for us to get up for
breakfast at 8, when I didn’t get up until 10. When I did get up, she was gone
and there was cold toast and tea on the table, so I knew something was wrong.
She got back home around noon and came to talk to us, saying next time we don’t
have class we better tell her, because she got up early and made us breakfast and
waited, wondering what happened to us. She didn’t need to get up that early and
next time we better make it clear when we’re not eating. I said sorry, but couldn’t
figure out how to say, “I feel horrible, it won’t happen again.” In hindsight,
it is obvious that we should have told her we weren’t getting up for breakfast.
But in my head, it was just another weekend, and breakfast is at 10:30 on
weekends. And the day before, I didn’t eat dinner there, and left early in the
day. Breakfast was the last thing from my mind. I learned my lesson, however,
and will try not to let my host mom down again.
So on Monday I had to get out of the house to escape
the guilt looming over my head. I went to get my pictures taken for the final
step in getting a student visa. All I needed was 2 “passport style photos.”
Should be easy enough, right? Not exactly. Somehow I ended up with pictures
that were a cm too big (apparently Visa photos and passport photos aren’t the
same size, who knew). I asked the people at ISA if it was ok, and they said
that it should be fine. But it wasn’t fine. We went on Friday to the
immigrations office and waited in line forever. We had to be there at 7:30
(which meant leaving at 6:15) and didn’t get done until after 10. And the
picture that was a tiny bit too big, that was supposed to be fine? I had to
leave, go back to the train station, and get it retaken. Good news is I got my
place back in line, which I wasn’t expecting. So it could have been much worse.
I was still frustrated that I was told that it should be okay, and it wasn’t.
These are the same people that told me a copy of my passport should be fine
when I went to get my package from the main post office. Maybe I should start
to do my own research…
I started a new class on Tuesday: Intermediate 1,
which is a rather intimidating title, for someone who has only had 4 weeks of
Spanish, ever. I understand a lot of what the professor says, but it’s
frustrating to realize that I’m confused at which pronoun to use. The English
equivalent would be me calling a boy “her, it or them.” It makes me look at
language as a living and breathing thing that has its own personality and its
own sense of humor. It’s not like learning any other subject I’ve taken in
school, even English. When we learn our first language, we learn words first,
then the rules of grammar (if we even have to learn them, I think a lot of it
comes instinctually). But learning a second language you learn vocab and
grammar at the same time, which makes for a very confused and overloaded brain.
I also think constantly comparing English and Spanish is bad. The languages don’t
function in the same way, so it is hard to make correlations. When babies learn
words, we assign visual, audio, or other sensory association to a word. That’s
a lot more effective than trying to remember the word in English and associate
it only with another word.
It really feels like every time I get my feet under
me and feel like I’m treading water alright, something small happens that makes
waves come crashing over my head and I get the all too familiar feeling of
drowning. I know I’m not really drowning here—metaphorically or literally—I just
feel like things are out of my control. I don’t like that feeling.
I feel a lot of pressure to “have the time of my
life” here. I keep thinking what I’ll tell people when I get back to the states
when they ask about my time abroad. Most of my responses I can think of now
would not satisfy their thirst to live vicariously through me. Yeah, I’m glad I
came, no I wouldn’t change my mind, but no, I do not love every minute of it.
No, it is not the time of my life. I miss everything from food to privacy and
peace of mind to snow. But I don’t want to disappoint you, or let you down.
I was expressing these concerns to my friend Lauren,
and I really like what she said (like always, she has god advice.) So what if I
don’t like it? I shouldn’t feel guilty for not enjoying myself. If I don’t like
it, I don’t like it. I need to listen to myself and not other people. After I
realized that I shouldn’t feel pressured to feel a certain way, I’ll just come
out and say it. No, I don’t like living in Buenos Aires. No, I don’t like the
big city. I don’t like being away from my family and friends. And damn, it
feels good to say it. So even though I’m still not sure how I will respond when
people ask me about my time abroad, I will make sure they know this:
Studying abroad has completely turned my world
upside down. Living in a foreign environment has made me question everything:
what I want in life, what’s the point of everything, what makes me happy, who I
am close to, and what I want or feel called to do. (Yeah I know, dang
existentialists). Although I haven’t come up with any of the answers to life’s
big questions, it’s important to look at them, shake them up, and see how the
dice fall. And the good news is I still have 3 months to figure it out. I’m
questioning everything: from friends to daily routines, from family to ambition,
from love to independence. Because then,
when I get back to what is “normal,” and what is “comfortable,” I’ll have a
better idea of what can’t be changed by distance or circumstance. Of what
really is normal and comfortable. Of who I am and who you are. Of what’s here
to stay.
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