Coming Home

I’m home.  I came home two weeks early and surprised all of my friends and family and it was wonderful, but the heartbreak of leaving was devastating, and for the most part still is.

My last day in Argentina will forever have a special place in my heart because it was just perfect.  I intentionally woke up early so that I could have one last breakfast with mi abuela and it was a perfect breakfast to end on.  We sat and ate our criollos and drank our tea and had our little conversation with the news on in the background.  I thought back to how at the beginning of my time there, we actually watched the news, but how so quickly our conversation stole the show and we hardly ever actually watched the news anymore.  I sat there and smiled, laughed and talked with her one last time, soaked it all in, and tried to not pay attention to my heart literally breaking on the inside.

After breakfast, I made it my goal to get everything packed and ready (suitcases weighing under 23 pesos each) before lunch, so that I could enjoy the rest of the afternoon and evening with my family.  Just in the nick of time I was able to get all packed and have my last lunch with mi mama and mi abuela.  At that point in the day, I had already cried while packing and was just trying to hold in the tears.  The lunch was so sad.  No one said much of anything until finally mi abuela just looked at me and said “se fue el tiempo demasiado rapido” (“the time went too fast”).  The look in her eyes was just so sad, and for the first time I let myself think about saying goodbye to her later on that night and my heart broke as I responded through tears with “demasiado rapido, no quiero irme” (“too fast, I don’t want to go”).  My heat hurt.  It still hurts, but in that moment the pain was almost unbearable. 

After lunch, aunts and uncles came over to say their goodbyes, so we sat around that little kitchen table one last time, drank mate, and talked about my time in Argentina.  It was wonderful, but at the same time it hit me like a brick the fact that I had to leave these people.  These people who were now my family.  I had to leave my family.  I had to leave them with no determined return date in the future to look forward to.   While suffering from continued heartbreak, I drank my last mates, had my last laughs, and gave my last besos (kisses) to all of my dear loved ones.  They all told me to come back; they said they would be waiting for me with open arms and open doors.  In the midst of this time I had to say goodbye to mi mama because she had to go to a convention thing for the weekend.  It was so sad, but only the first of many hard goodbyes.

After all the visitors left, Flor came over to have my last dinner with mi abuela, mis tias, and I.  We were sitting around the table eating and I was trying to have fake-happy conversation, but I just couldn’t.  My mind was so focused on the goodbyes and I could not snap out of it. 

The plan was that mi tia and Flor would take a taxi with me to the airport, so after dinner Flor and I went to my room to finish packing up my last few things.  Flor brought my suitcases downstairs as I proceeded to fix up my room (and in the process break my closet door, but that’s a different story), and then mi tia came up and said it was time to come down so we could call for a taxi.

I walked down the stairs and into the kitchen to hand mi abuela my house keys and then I turned and saw Flor’s father, brother, and sister waiting there in my kitchen (they had snuck in when I was upstairs) to drive me to the airport.  They drove 6 hours to surprise me to say goodbye one last time. 

In that moment I lost it.

I bawled.  I hugged Flor’s sister, brother, and father (who I refer to as my family and they do the same to me) and I just cried.  I felt so loved, but the more I felt loved the more it hurt that I was leaving.  The more I felt like I was leaving a place that I should never have to leave.  The more I felt like I was leaving home.  I turned back and looked at mi abuela and mis tias and Flor and they were all crying.  A lot.  I hugged them and cried.  I squeezed mi abuela so tightly and just said “gracias” and te quiero” (I love you) over and over and over again.  And she was saying the same things to me.  I must have hugged each of them a million times before I finally worked up the courage to turn from them and get in the car with Flor and her family to leave.  I have NEVER felt heartbreak like that before in my life…it was like so much of me wanted to run back into their arms and stay there forever, stay in that home forever, with my family.  I bawled the whole way to the airport while Flor and her sister just held me in their arms.  I could never have asked to meet more loving, selfless people.

Just when the tears took a pause, we arrived at the airport and the goodbyes began again.  I knew that I would see Flor again when she comes to my house for Christmas, but I didn’t know (and still don’t know) when I would see her family again.  So I cried and they cried and it was so sad, and my heart continued to break.  I hugged them, turned to walk towards security, and then turned around and looked one last time to see their smiles through tears and their final waves and kisses blown to send me on my way. 

My heart was broken.  My heart is broken.  But my heart is so full.  

The fact that the goodbyes were so hard, the fact that I didn’t completely want to come home, the fact that I am experiencing culture shock on the reverse, the fact that this is hard all mean that this experience was amazing.  It was worth it.  I learned, I cried, I grew, I was challenged and tested, I was scared, I was happy, I was sad, I loved, I was loved, I gained a new family, a new house, a new place to call home.  This should be hard.  I should be sad.  But I should also be so happy that it was what it was because it was perfect (at times perfectly horrible) and exactly what God had planned for me.  He painted the picture of my experience in Argentina, He challenged me, He tested me, He gave me a home and people to call my family, He blessed me, and He loved me through all of it.  And how blessed am I to have met people that make crying like that worth it?

So as I sit here now scared, sad, overwhelmed and still heart-broken, I am reminded of the one thing that hasn’t changed during my time in Argentina.  I’m different, how I feel is different, what I believe is different, my perspective is different, home here is different…but God’s love isn’t.  He is firm and stable and the One that I can count on as my true, unchanging home.  Because, let’s be real, I’m already thinking about the next place I can go to, and wherever that is I will probably end up calling that place home as well.  So as I continue this life of calling multiple places home and leaving pieces of my heart in each place, I take comfort in the fact that Our God is the God of all nations and in Him I find a full heart and my forever home.  

Home

Wifi problems again...there have been so many times recently that I've wanted to blog but it's impossible without wifi.  But it's back (at least for now)!

I have 18 days left here and my heart is breaking.  I never realized just how hard the end of this experience would be.  Coming here, getting robbed, getting my visa screwed up, getting lost numerous times...all of that pain and anxiety and fear were nothing in comparison to the realization of having to leave.  Absolutely nothing.

I think about hugging my friends and mi mama and mi abuela, not knowing when, if ever I will see them again, and I just can't handle it.  It's like my heart can't take it.  This house has become a home, these strangers have become family, this crazy city is now oddly comforting, and this language that used to be so foreign now comes easier than English at times.

I think of how much I've changed and grown, and then I realize why leaving is so scary.  It's so scary because my home will never be the same again after having had this experience.  My perspective has changed, by world-view has expanded, and nothing will ever look or feel the same anymore. Maybe that's one of the best (but definitely most scary and uncomfortable) outcomes of this experience.  It is life-changing.  It makes you look at the world from numerous points of view and more than anything, makes you able to call more than one place, home.

I that is my biggest struggle.  What is home to me now?  Sitting with my family at my house in York, PA opening presents together at Christmastime is home.  Sitting here in this house with mi abuela drinking mate is also home.  Speaking in English is home.  Speaking in Spanish is home.  Pennsylvania is home.  York is home.   Cordoba is home.  Argentina is home.

Maybe home is just an accumulation of all the places, people, and houses that make you, you.  Maybe home from now on will be carried more in my heart than find its value in my physical location.  Maybe home, for me has changed, and maybe that's not such a bad thing.

  



        

Buenos Aires

So a while back, about two weeks ago, I went to Buenos Aires, and I've finally decided to tell you about it!  Flor and I left on Thursday night, spent all night attempting to sleep on the bus, and arrived early Friday morning.  Drained but excited, we were ready to start our weekend of sight-seeing. 

And then it rained, and rained, and rained, and rained, and got cold.  I will never understand the weather in this country, ever.  We decided to go get some food and wait to see if the rain would stop.  We ate at the cutest little bistro and I made sure everyone knew I was a foreigner by taking these pictures.

 We may have tried some of these sweets, we may have.

After we were stuffed, we went to a ginormous, beautiful cemetery where a bunch of famous people are buried.  I, being the nerd I am, was completely in awe seeing the graves of famous Argentine people that I have been reading about and studying.  It was really really really cool.  To save you from any potential boredom, I will only show you a few of the thousands of pictures I took :)

 As you can see, the rain stopped.

 We also went for a walk through the city to take some pictures.

 Calle 9 de Julio...AKA widest street in the world.

 Evita.

 A library that used to be a theater.

On Saturday, we went to la Casa Rosada, Puerto Madero and just walked around some more....in the cold rain.

 La Casa Rosada (The pink house)- where the president works.  I could not believe how little security there was and how close to the house we could get.

 This close.  I didn't have to zoom in or anything.

 Puerto Madero-a port where things are imported and exported by boat.

A big, beautiful, old boat that has some kind of historical importance that I don't know enough to tell you about.

On Sunday, we went to La Boca which is pretty much just a little town full of colorful houses.

 Of course Messi had to make an appearance.

The Pope also was represented with his famous wave.  The fact that Messi and the Pope were everywhere, really gives you an idea of what (or who) is important here in Argentina.

All in all, this was a great trip.  A lot packed into a little weekend, but I am so glad that I went and saw the capital city.  I think the size, craziness, and lack of it feeling like the true Argentina I've come to know, made me so much more grateful for my home here in Cordoba.

Saying Goodbye

There is something that no one tells you before you go abroad.  You get all prepped for what could happen abroad, but not for what could happen at home while you are abroad.  And when something does happen at home, you just feel stuck, and this experience that used to feel freeing and amazing, suddenly makes you feel bound down and so very lonely.

No one tells you that while abroad loved ones at home could change, or they could get sick, or worst of all, they could pass away. No one tells you that your final goodbye for forever might be the goodbye you say when you think you're just going away for six months.

Last night my Grandma went to go be with my Grandpa again. She fought a long fight, and now gets to meet Jesus and fall back into my Grandpa's arms.

Gram, I am so sorry that I did not get to be there to physically say goodbye to you...I think you know I was there in heart, and I think in a way, that month we spent together was our goodbye, and I am so grateful for that time.

Gram, when I think about all of the memories I have of you, I just smile.  I smile at the thought of cooking bacon in the microwave with you, while you let me sit on the counter and help.  I smile at the endless cups of chocolate milk with extra syrup that you gave my sisters and I behind our parent's back.  I smile thinking about when we watched Grease together and you (in your recliner) did all of the dance moves to Greased Lightning.  I smile at the memories of Christmas', Easter's, Thanksgivings, baptisms, first communions, and all other family gatherings spent in your house.  That house will always hold such a special place in my heart.  I smile thinking of how you ALWAYS asked us "Who loves you?" And we had to respond with "Grandma does!" And your face would light up as you would say "That's right!"  I smile at the memory of all the Hallmark and Lifetime movies we watched together, and how none of us cared that my dad hated every second of it.  I smile thinking of how you always eagerly handed us wads of cash to go get our fill (and your fill) of Denville Dairy.  Don't worry, I will continue going there for you. I smile and laugh so hard at the memories of you saying "I'm ballin' on a budget!" and "all I want for my birthday is a big booty hoe", having no idea of course what those phrases mean.  I smile knowing that you've been there, for every big moment in my life, with your proud smile, at times happy tears, and endless loving hugs and kisses.  And I smile thinking about the month that we had together, just the two of us.  Even though I may have been physically caring for you, you were the one teaching me, loving me, and impacting me in more ways than I can name.  I am so thankful for that time together, for that time to, in a way, say goodbye.

Gram, thank you for being so loving and so selfless.  Thank you for teaching me all about love, patience, and the importance of family.  Thank you for being stubborn (although difficult at times), I love that you always knew what you wanted, and I love that I can say I get that trait honestly. Thank you for being sarcastic, honest, and always ready to laugh.   Thank you for always giving selflessly regardless of how much or how little you had.  Most of all, thank you for loving Jesus and your family with all of your heart.  That never went unnoticed.

I will continue making your coffee perfectly, although now I will just have to drink it for you.  Quite honestly, I will probably never make another Manhattan again in my life, but I can say that it is a skill I have mastered...right down to the perfect amount of ice cubes.  I promise that my sisters and I will undoubtedly watch every Hallmark and Lifetime movie for you, and we will try to make our father endure them too...just like we've always done.  More than anything, I will love more and love better because of all that you've taught me.  I will forever wear the necklace you gave me all those years ago, look at it every day, and think of you, your smile, and your love.

Give Grandpa a big hug for me.  Make him dance with you.  Start a party up there (if you haven't already).  See everything for the first time in a long time.  You will be with us always...in our hearts, in our smiles, in our tears, in our laughter.  Your impact will last for forever and I can't wait to tell my children and grandchildren all about you.  I love you and I miss you and I will see you again someday.

             

Empanada Night

Some of my most memorable times spent here thus far, have been spent in the kitchen with mi abuela cooking (or should I say learning how to cook) some traditional Argentine food.  Mi abuela is the kind of cook that I aspire to be.  She never uses a recipe, never measures anything (NEVER, not even when baking), never burns anything, and never hesitates to lick the stirring spoon to taste test and then put it right back into the pot to continue stirring.  It's as if she and everything in the kitchen have some secret way of always knowing how to make everything perfectly, 100% fresh, and super super super delicious.  This woman can make homemade bread by dumping things into a bowl without paying attention while watching tv and holding a conversation...and the bread is soooooo good.  I really don't know how she does it.  I often just watch in amazement, but more often recently, on nights like tonight, I take part in the magic and I am continually amazed.

Today when I got home from school, mi abuela slyly mentioned to me that we were going to be eating empanadas tonight.  She always drops little hints as if she wants me to help her cook and she wants to teach me, and she really wants me to work on my empanada skills.  I, of course, immediately told her I wanted to help and her face light up like the sun.  I kid you not.  For this little woman who lives to take care of her daughter, myself, and the other student in my house, her days are full of cooking, cleaning, walking to the store, and doing her little arts and crafts.  The little things have the biggest impact in her life and bring her so much happiness.  She lights up my day every single day and there is no one I would rather sit and talk with for hours on end.

And she might be the best empanada fryer in the whole world.

At around 8, she pulled out the masa and the relleno, two spoons, a little cup of water, and basically told me to get to work.  We sat for about an hour together, getting the empanadas all ready to be baked or fried and she continually congratulated me on my improving empanada -making skills.  I tell you, it really is not easy to get them just perfect, but I'm working on it.  Today, mine looked almost exactly like hers!

Once they were all done, we baked half, and fried the other half.

 We also stopped working to take a quick picture ;)

 And these are the finished products!!!  And they were soooooo good.

All this said, empanadas are wonderful, don't get me wrong, but what makes cooking in this kitchen so special is the woman that I get to do it with.  She laughs, loves, and thoroughly enjoys everything about her simple life.  Not only do I learn recipes from her and the perfect way to fry an empanada, I hear stories about her childhood, about Cordoba way back in the day, and about the things in life that she loves.  Listening to that and eating an empanada....how could life get better?

 

It's hot

So I know it’s been awhile since I’ve blogged last.  This time my excuse is that there’s no wifi in my house right now, and there hasn’t been for a week.  Our computer broke, and to fix it I guess it was necessary to undo everything and leave it that way for days, before coming back to put it all back together.  Oh Argentina.  The great thing is that things like this, these little obstacles, don’t really faze me anymore.  Maybe because I’ve realized how privileged I am in the US and how things I take for granted there are luxuries here (or they just don’t even exist), or maybe because I’ve become super relaxed and able to completely go with the flow…whatever happens, I can probably handle it without getting completely bent out of shape.   I’ve also just realized that having no wifi is not an actual, serious problem.  Sure it means I can’t skype anyone for a while, but it’s not the end of this world.  Part of this experience, I think, is about becoming disconnected from one culture, and completely immersed in another.  Maybe no wifi is a help to that process.

Anyways, things have been going pretty well.  My days are full of classes, homework, getting together with friends, talking with mi abuela, and surviving this heat.  IT IS SO HOT HERE.  I have never felt heat like this before in my life.  Not only is it hot, it is humid, and it’s a kind of humid that does not exist in Pennsylvania.  I am sweating all day long, and chugging bottles of water all day long.  It’s always hard to sleep at night now for one of two reasons.  1. Because I didn’t open my big window/door so I’m sweating a ton or 2. Because I did open my big window/door so now I’m getting bit my mosquitoes like crazy and swatting flies away from my face.  I’ve been choosing number two (the battle with mosquitoes) and I am losing the battle…big time.  I am now itchy allllllll the time.  Regardless of those seemingly horrible first world problems, I’m grateful for this experience…to live without air conditioning (AKA: to live like the majority of the world has to because they don’t have access to it).  I’m learning all about the power of perspective, patience, and the beauty of cold showers.

I’ve oddly become super anxious about a few things, the main theme being, coming home.  I am so so so so so excited, don’t get me wrong, but the whole realization that I only have two months left here leaves me with a sickening, sad feeling because I’m scared.  I’m scared I will be a mess leaving, I’m scared I will be miserable the few weeks leading up to all the goodbyes, I’m scared I won’t be able to function, I’m scared of this experience being over.  I’m scared of going home to the same place, but as a new person, I’m scared of being too different,  I’m scared of not speaking in Spanish all the time,  I’m scared of relationships being different.  And most of all, I’m confused, because I want to stay here just as badly as I want to go home.  I want so desperately to be in two places at once.  But that’s not reality, and guess what?  That scares me.  Shocker, I know.

All of these anxious feelings have led to bad dreams in which I actually wake up crying only to remind myself that I still have two months left, and that I have people who love and care about me to go home to, people who will help me and be patient with me, and who will support me as a different, more developed person.  I don’t know why all these feelings are beginning now, but they are, so I am talking through them, writing them out, and then trying to push them to the side so I can be fully present and engaged for these next two months.

insight from a dirt road

I'm beginning to learn that to "know" a place, a country, a city, it's not all about how many places you see, but rather about how many people you meet, how many stories you hear, and about how many relationships you build.

This past weekend, I went to visit mi tia (my aunt) in a little (and I mean little) city called Jesus Maria, that is about an hour in bus away from Cordoba.  Mi abuela, mi nueva hermana y yo left early in the morning, took the bus, and arrived in Jesus Maria by about 10:45am.  The first thing I noticed was the tranquility of the place, the land, and of course the dirt roads.

It quickly made me realize how much of a city person I've become.  I've gotten so used to the sounds of traffic, cars honking, people talking, phones ringing, and men making crude comments that I don't even hear them anymore.  I think I might have heard more in the silence of Jesus Maria than I hear here in the city of Cordoba on a daily basis.  I've become so accustomed to noise, that the silence was almost deafening, but not in such a bad way.

It was in that little city full of dirt roads that I realized when, where, and how I learn the most.  I remember getting ready to come to Argentina, and thinking about all the places I was going to travel to - everywhere in Argentina, Uruguay, Paraguay, Chile, ect. I was so full of those big dreams and so under the impression that seeing those places would make me a more intelligent, well-rounded person.  How wrong was I.

I'm here with a little more than two months left and weekends that are filling up very fast, and I haven't been to half of the places I thought I'd go to.  In fact, I think I've only been to places I didn't think I would go to because I didn't know they even existed prior to coming here.

As of now, I've been to the northern provinces of Jujy, Salta, and Tucuman, and I've been to the eastern province called Entre Rios.  I've been close to Bolivia, and I've even seen Uruguay from across the river.  I've been to Alta Gracia, and now Jesus Maria.  I have a trip planned this weekend to a place called Villa Mercedes, and two other trips planned to Buenos Aires and Mendoza, but that's it.  It may seem like a lot, but it's no where near half of what I thought prior to coming, and many of the places are somewhat unknown, so there's not much to see but dirt roads and the people who live there.

But I would have never met this little girl and this tiny puppy had I not gone to a place like Jesus Maria.  I would have never gotten to see the smile on her face as she introduced her puppy to me, and I would have never gotten to take a peek inside her life, see where she lives, and hear about how she rescued that puppy from the streets.

That's one of the many reasons why it doesn't bother me one bit that I haven't traveled as much as I thought I would.  I have most certainly without a doubt learned more discovering dirt roads, cooking with mi abuela, and breaking bread (literally) around the table with my new loved ones than any trip to sight-see could have ever taught me.  I have been humbled and felt love in new, more hopeful, and more encouraging ways. 

That's what that day in Jesus Maria taught me.  A dirt road is nothing glamorous, it's nothing any normal person would take a picture of, but for me it has a deeper meaning.  It's the road that one of my loved one's lives on, it's a road where bread is broken, laughs are had, and families are together.  It's a road yet to be paved, yet to be discovered, and yet to be messed with...much like the culture and love I've learned about here.  It's genuine, pure, and intimate...and I'm so glad that it is the one thing I have discovered.
      

Tucuman

This is the last leg of our trip!

Day 5 (Continued):  After a long bus ride, we finally arrived in the lovely city of Tucuman.  Tucuman is known here in Argentina as a smaller version of Buenos Aires.  It was very crowded, very active, very diverse, and was full of big companies' buildings.  We stayed in one of those big buildings with a rooftop pool and view of the entire city.  Unfortunately it was a bit overcast so my pictures aren't the best, but they give you an idea of how amazing the view was.

After admiring the view, we went out for empanadas.  We made sure to try the empanadas in every city to taste the differences.

Just in case I haven't showed you enough pictures of empanadas :)

Day 6:  On this day, we woke up early, ate breakfast, and went on a tour throught the mountains of Tucuman with our own personal guide.  This is what we saw:

 We saw tons of dogs, but I had to get a picture of this one because I have never seen something like this before.  Pretty sure she just gave birth.

 

"I am the resurrection and the life."

A little church at the top of a mountain.

Jesus.

Later this night we toured about the city a bit, and then went to a Lebanese restaurant!

We walked into this church while mass was going on...oops.

This church had the crucifix and also Jesus' wounded body laying like this.  It was a powerful reminder of the pain that our Savior went through. 

At the restaurant they served us flatbread, and whatever was on that plate.  It was really good, but I have no idea what it was.

 And...sfeeha, of course.  It was so good!  Aunt Karen and Meghan, we have to learn how to make homemade dough!

Day 7:  We woke up, and endured the 9 hour bus ride back to Cordoba.  I walked into my home at 10pm to find my family excitedly awaiting me.  They even waited to eat dinner until I got home.  After a whole week away, it was the best feeling walking into a house that truly feels like home and is full of so much love.  I could not be any more lucky with the family that I have here.