I know it’s been way too much time since my last post. But I had to prioritize. And I chose to do as much as I could to ignore the ever- approaching return date, and in general the existence of my home country. Instead, I focused on my life in Argentina and tried to soak up every second.
Coming back has been hard but at least I know that I have nothing to regret; I lived my exchange to the fullest and didn’t let the sadness of leaving ruin any experiences.
That said, I now have some time on my hands, and in kind of a medium between wanting to be distracted and not wanting to move on, I’ve decided to write my last post.
Picking up from the last post-
A few weeks after returning from the North Trip, I switched back to my first host family. It was hard to explain to my second family that I wanted to leave, but they were very understanding of the relationship I share with my first family.
The first weekend back, I went to Tandil with my host mom and her friend. We didn’t have much time, but it was enough to see all the quintessential touristy spots and take pictures. And in Tandil, that includes a bit of hiking. It felt so great to get out on a trail again, and have a bit of time to get my heart pumping (because trust me, before that, it had been awhile).
A few weeks later, I was able to spend a few days in Buenos Aires with my host sister. She worked until noon, so i had a few hour every day to explore the city (by foot, of course) and go to CrossFit. Then every afternoon we did something different- I bought gifts to bring back for family and friends, met up with a friend at University and an exchange friend to drink mates, and got to see a former exchange student who went to my district last year. It was really cool to have the freedom to explore my favorite part of the city and see some of my favorite people.
Maybe two weeks later, we had a final Rotary event in Mercedes. And let me tell ya, I capitalized on that. On Friday, Zoe (the Californian) came from Buenos Aires, and Lindsay (the Canadian) came from Chivilcoy. They got to meet all of my friends and we all went out together. Lindsay had to leave the next day, but Zoe and I went out again, and without sleeping, left early Sunday morning to go to the Rotary event. I brought my mate and it was the only thing keeping me awake, I think. Hannah, who at that point only had a week left in her exchange, invited us to stay with her that night, and, reluctant to go home, I went with her. So after finally napping, I found myself hanging out with Hannah (Austria), Benny (Germany), and Lindsay, in Mercedes. We were going to watch a movie but elected to just sit and talk with each other. The next afternoon, Lindsay and I shared a bus back to our towns. Seeing as I had ditched Monday, I had to go to school on Tuesday. But Wednesday was a holiday, and my host mom (the doll she is) drove me to Chivilcoy, to meet up again with Lindsay and Benny. Benny left in the evening, but I ended up staying the night- Lindsay and I knew it was our last chance to spend time together before I left. We were pretty sleep deprived at that point, though, so a lot of what we did was sleep or stare at Netflix in a half- awake state. Which, to be honest, sums up a lot of our friendship, and that's just fine.
Leaving that Thursday felt weird, because it was a goodbye but didn’t feel like one. Despite not being able to see each other, I would still be living a mere 30 minutes away from her, and we would still be talking to each other every day. But when Lindsay teared up, I couldn’t help but tear up too.
Friday I went to school (for a grand total of two days that week), but by that afternoon I was on the road again with my host parents and sister. My host dad finally finished the harvest, and just in time to take me on a weekend trip to Mendoza. We made it to San Luis Friday night, and by midday on Saturday, we arrived in the city of Mendoza. To be clear: I was always picked out of the crowd for looking like a foreigner. But man, in Mendoza, I stepped it up. While everyone else was in winter jackets and boots, I was in a plaid shirt, leggings, and Chacos. I can’t help myself- when in the mountains, my inner Coloradoan comes out.
The rest of the day, and on Sunday throughout our tour, I couldn’t help but think that being on vacation with them really made me feel like time was frozen. My leaving was a common topic at that point, and yet I felt as if my final day would never come. Not only that, but my exchange felt much longer than 9 months long. It seemed to me that my life was split in half: half in the United States, in English, spending my weekends hiking. And half in Argentina, in Castellano, spending my weekends with my friends or family. I couldn’t imagine that in reality, all the experiences I’d had had fit into such a short amount of time.
That mindset allowed me to enjoy the trip to the fullest- the snowball fight with my host dad, the first snowman I ever built because the snow in Colorado is lame, the scenic views, the wine we shared at lunch (Mendoza is Argentina’s wine country).
On Monday, when we arrived home, I had to face the music. I started packing the few things I could, so that I could have some time later in the week when I wanted it. And I handled that alright. But when I had to start writing letters to my friends and family- that’s when things got tough. I just couldn’t find the words to express everything I wanted to, and thinking back to all the things we shared and all the things I wouldn’t be able to do again was hard.
Besides those things, it was a normal week till Friday. I wasn’t expecting anything, but my classmates put a breakfast together to celebrate my host brother’s birthday and my leaving. It was really sweet.
That night, I went out with my host sister and a friend after going to my host brother’s party. We got home relatively early (about 5.30), and I woke up, weirdly enough, at 10. Then I really got going with the packing, and the struggle was real. I basically crossed my fingers and hoped my suitcases weren’t overweight, and closed them up with everything I didn’t need for the last day.
Then I went to my goodbye party, and the turnout was pretty spectacular, if I do say so myself. Both of my families, some extended family, kids from my class, and those of my friends who could come home for the weekend all crowded into my host grandma’s quincho. We had choripans, and ice cream, two foods which I already miss dearly. My families surprised me with a book they had made- it documented my year in photos, and everyone wrote notes to me. I didn’t actually read it till recently, because I despise crying in public and knew if I cracked it open it would be inevitable.
Then I went out for the last time, and tried to enjoy every second. Which was a little hard, since i had to say some of my last goodbyes at 5 AM to the tune of cumbia.
The original idea was to not sleep that day, but no luck- after eating breakfast with a friend and showering, I absolutely crashed. 2 hours of sleep later, I woke up to go eat lunch with my family. Sunday lunch was one of my favorite traditions on my exchange, and I’m glad I got to end it with one. My grandma made cannellonis, which I love, and I got another surprise- a slideshow of photos made by my host family.
I packed the rest of my things, we picked up my friend, and I left Alberti behind for the last time (at least for a few years). We stopped by Chivilcoy for a few minutes- I couldn’t leave without saying a final goodbye to my best exchange friend, Lindsay. And that was the first time I cried, when she showed me a slideshow she’d made of all of our horrible selfies from the year. Luckily, it ended in me laughing, and we promised to talk every day, and hugged a thousand times, and then we were on the road again.
I don’t remember much of the car ride, honestly. It was all a blur until we pulled into the parking lot of the airport; from the moment we pulled in, until we got out of the car, Esme (my friend who also had picked me up from the airport on the first day) grabbed my hand and held it tight.
She gave me my last gift- a photo album of our group of friends
My host brother hauled both of my bags in for me, the doll. Turns out the bigger one was overweight, but after asking me about my blazer, the employee put the overweight tag on and didn’t say a word (#rotaryperks). Unwilling to part ways, I sat for as long as possible with the family until I had to leave. Like I said, I hate crying in public, but I couldn’t hold it all in- those goodbyes, to family and a best friend, were all the hardest and all the realest and all at the same time.
I arrived at the gate when they had already started boarding, so I didn’t have much time to process what I was feeling. There was a distinct moment, right as we were taking off, that I looked out the window and remember thinking “that’s it, it’s over.” I tried to distract myself after that, so as not to annoy people with my sniffling, so I caught up on some movies that I hadn’t been able to see during my exchange. Despite my exhaustion, I only slept 2 hours or so.
That said, in my layover in Atlanta, things were a bit rough. Due to habit and tiredness, I accidentally spoke Spanish on various occasions. Which in a way was cool, if not a little bit weird. The reverse culture shock was definitely also getting to me- from the portion size of my breakfast, to seeing boy scouts and listening to English, I felt kind of off balance.
On the flight to Denver, I finally got some sleep. I woke up in time to see the mountains through the window as we landed. I thought that seeing something I’d missed so much would get rid of a little bit of my melancholy, but it didn’t do anything. And that’s when I knew that being home was going to be harder than anticipated.
Writing this next part is a little harsh, but I think it’s important- not only for any future exchange students to see, but for people who will soon see their own kids or friends return from exchange.
Coming home sucks. These past few days have been some of the hardest I’ve ever had to live in a long time. Seeing my family and best friend, who picked me up from the airport, was just the beginning. I didn’t know what to say or do -I wanted to at least look happy and make sure they knew I was happy to see them. But I had so much on my mind that I couldn’t muster a genuine smile.
As we drove home, and my hometown came into view, I expected something to be different somehow. Besides new store or my family’s new washing machine, everything was exactly the same. All day, little things would throw me for a loop- the smell of the flowers in my front yard, the hot weather, the sight of my old school. Little details I hadn’t thought about for 9 months were suddenly replacing everything I’d come to love in Argentina. Of course, this happened to me upon arrival in Argentina last August. But then, everything has a veneer of adventure, and new opportunities. Going home means a layer of boredom at being right back where you before- at least for me.
Distractions are good, but it takes awhile to move on. It doesn’t matter how great or terrible exchange was, or how much love the student goes home to. The end of exchange calls for a mourning process, and it goes better when the people at home know to respect what the student is going through.
I’m lucky enough to have a good support system here, and plenty of distraction. Between leaving for a trip in 2 days, a sister who also went on exchange, and talking with my exchange friends, I’ve been ok. So I’m not writing this to insult anyone from my life here- I know that they’re trying their best. I just want to help students who don’t have as much luck as I do.
My exchange was more than I could have ever hoped it to be. I’m a different person now- and for the better. I have true family on two continents, and friends from all over the world. And all those new experiences, all the joy I experienced, is worth the pain I’m feeling now.
Tandil
Matching sweatshirts with my class at school
Playing dirty in the snowball fight
My host family in Mendoza
Zoe, Lindsay, and I at the last Rotary event.
