With three alarms going off in a row at 6:22, 6:30, and 6:35, my day started off like any other in Pilar. I was almost able to forget the impending goodbyes when I sat down for a typical breakfast of medialunas — the Argentinian version of croissants, and my favorite of the plethora of dulces and pastries here. As always, my host family laughed and joked with each other even before the sun rose, which always erased my morning grumpiness. There was always a strong and perpetual undercurrent of love and care between every interaction in our household, whether it was while my host dad prepared hot leche con chocolate with extra sugar for my host sister or the kisses constantly showered on each family member.
After I triple checked that I had everything (including my precious cargo of dulce de leche and multiple pounds of yerba for mate), all five of us piled into the car and we drove out of their gated neighborhood into the sunrise. As we sped past the fenced houses of Pilar del Este and wide fields blanketed in early-morning fog, I took a moment to reflect on the past week with my host family. From the first day, the tight-knit family of four treated me as a third daughter and gave me an invaluable insight into their daily lives. I got to know their “normal,”–their routine and culture– something that I never got to understand by just visiting Buenos Aires as a tourist.
Once everyone had lugged their overpacked suitcases into the auditorium, we headed to the second floor of the school to give group presentations we had prepared about topics such as North Carolina, Cary Academy, and Sports in North Carolina to the 1st years (equivalent to US 6th graders). After the presentations, our group walked to the other side of the school to a room full of kindergarteners (“munchkins,” as Vic would say), much to our delight. Their teachers led the kids in a rousing “Hello Song” to welcome us. Then, the Americans formed small groups with the tiny Argentines to draw the flags of Argentina and the US. The kindergarteners I grouped up with shyly introduced themselves, but then they warmed up when I asked them which flag they liked the best (Argentina, obviously!). After taking a group picture with everyone and their artistic interpretations of the flags, we Americans relaxed and hung out with our buddies and the rest of the students in the schoolyard until our final North Hills lunch.
My favorite part of the day came after lunch, when I laid out in the sun with a big group of friends and just soaked in the moment while watching people play basketball, kicking around a ball, and chatting with friends. I am grateful that I was able to experience a normal day in Argentina. For a moment, we were able to have an ordinary routine of going to school and spending time with a family and experience what “normal” is in another country. I will cherish the smallest moments forever: the giant asados on the side of a busy road, a runaway horse and its baby leading the police on a chase next to the Pan American highway, a man walking through the busy streets of downtown Buenos Aires with a full pig carcass draped over his shoulder, passing yerba mate around with North Hill students. These are the memories that will only make the trip grow fonder in my mind. The most “normal” moments–the connections and friendships formed, the smiles and the cross-cultural understanding–are the ones that made our exchange an experience that we will never forget.
But for us, today was anything but a normal day. When the time for final goodbyes approached, time seemed to stretch–hugs were elongated, and I think I said goodbye to everyone at least three times. We finally tore ourselves away, teary-eyed but smiling, and made our way towards the bus, trying to come to terms with the fact that we might never see some of them again. But as we turned the corner with our luggage in tow, the Argentinian students were waiting for us, forming a walkway and a chance to say one last goodbye. Our crowd of goodbye hugs and kisses trailed along the side of the school, until we were embracing our newfound friends through the thick metal school gate. This final goodbye will forever be engrained in my memory: two schools separated by 5,000 miles and a continent but brought together by this exchange and the resulting friendships that will span the distance. –Eliza
