There is something to marvelous about the flow of time when you are not at home; a moment can be an eternity, a flash of lightening, or both at the same time. I have nicknamed this the time paradox of traveling and can only hope to understand it one day. Moving on, some of my classes started this week and the rest of my classes start Wednesday, I think. I am going to take a drawing class, Social History of Argentina, Portuguese (hopefully), and either History of Mendoza or Geography of Argentina. It should come to about 16 American credits.
Last Sunday, a group of us took taxis out to Cerro Arco Mirador, which is an 1870 meter hill with radio and television broadcasting stuff at the top. Key word: hill. According to the Argentinians, it is too small to be considered a mountain but man alive, we were huffing and puffing by the time we got to the top. It took about two hours to go up, twenty minutes at the top for a snack, then an hour trek back down. 20,000 steps later but the views were completely worth it. Scroll to the bottom for pics or somethin'.
Thursday a group of us went to the Mendoza Wine Fair and overindulged on unlimited wine. Essentially, you paid 300 pesos (20 USD) to try wine from 50+ different bodegas and get a sandwich. I definitely drank too much wine but it was totally worth it. Apart from the wine hangover, Friday I was struck down with food poisoning/travelers sickness/the flu, call it what you will, but three and a half days later I am still feeling the effects.
Bright and early Saturday morning a group of four people from my program and I left for a cabin in the mountains. We were staying in Valle del Sol, which is a town so little that there isn't a full grocery store and fruits and veggies are brought door to door by delivery trucks. Being away from the city for a few days was great. I have recently discovered that I need to get away from/ live outside of the constant movement and noise of a city otherwise I will go crazy. Anyways, between getting off the bus and walking to our cabin, we attracted a crowd of village dogs that followed us all the way to our cabin and proceeded to be our friends and remain in our presence for the remainder of the weekend. Because I was still sick, I spent the majority of the time at the cabin curled up on the couch, watching the Olympics (which I haven't gotten to do enough anyways). I did venture out onto the deck every few hours to lay out in the sun. Imagine the brightest Minnesotan sun you have ever seen and then triple that; the air temp was about 45 degrees but because the sun was so bright, it was warm enough to be in sports bras and athletic shorts during the day.
Sunday I was feeling a little better and decided to go horseback riding. Originally, the owners of the cabin were going to take us to their friends' ranch but that didn't work out so instead, we rode the sad looking horses, from dirty men on the side of the rode. I also have never had good luck with horses and I think the horse I was on knew that; he tried to run me through a tree with long thorns poking out from the branches. Long story short, I almost got a free ear piercing but the thorn protruding from my ear didn't go deep enough into the cartilage.
Sunday night our cabin was greatly affected by La Zonda; winds that come from the pacific and reach over 40 kilometers per hour. We could hear the winds come down from the tops of the mountains before they would hit our cabin. I tried to stand outside in them but lasted mere seconds because I was scared of being blown off of the deck or being hit with something flying through the wind. The winds shook our cabin and even shook the couch that I was sleeping on. The next morning, walking through town, trees were blown to bits, windows were broken, debris was everywhere. It was quite the experience.
What I felt:
About a week before I left, I had a conversation with Ezra's dad about the mixed emotions I was having with leaving. I explained that I was excited to go to Argentina but I really didn't want to leave. He told me that these bittersweet goodbyes mean that I might be able to settle down one day. I didn't think much of this comment until I had hours to sit on the couch with travelers sickness; during my couch lounging and over the course of the last two weeks, I have realized I was starting to settle into my life in the Twin Cities. After months of struggling with reverse cultural shock, I was finally content with being a Gopher, I had a boyfriend I cared (still really care) about, my friend group was filled with people I knew were genuinely my friends, and I was incredibly happy.
Two weeks ago I packed my bags, said my goodbyes, and I started my journey into the Southern Hemisphere. I anticipated an easy adjustment, fast friends, and the simplicity that was my exchange in Denmark. Instead I was met with loneliness, culture shock, and a seemingly endless struggle. My homesickness constantly has me inches from tears and has given me an appreciation for my Minnesotan life that I don't know I would have ever found without it. I miss home, my mom, vegetables, quiet spaces, Ezra, large bodies of water, English, my friends, being able to disappear in a crowd, reliable internet connection wherever I am, my car, all of the works.
Having been on both sides of the orientation process for outbound exchange students, as well as having been an exchange student, I feel like I should know what I am doing and be able to overcome these things quickly but that hasn't happened. It is like everything I learned about going abroad has flown out the window and I am left shaking in my boots. I have already recognized some of my behaviors as harmful to cultural adjustment and I am working to change them, but nothing provides an instant fix and that is what hurts me.
All of this has caused so many doubts: should I have waited another year? Did I chose the right place? Will I ever make friends? Will my friends still be there for me when I get back? What if my classes are too challenging or I can't understand and I fail, then all of this was a waste?
I apologize for the emotional dump but sometimes this kind of dump is the only way I can understand what is going on inside of my head.
Besitos.
We were all half naked but the Argentinians were bundled up in sweaters.
Somewhere near the top.
Step one: twirl wine in glass.
Step two: sniff wine.
Step three: pretend to know what you're doing.
The view from our cabin.
Not captured: my ear bleeding profusely.
Street dog or new best friend?
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