Return

It was hard to leave. Two days ago I said farewell to my host family, to Buenos Aires, the place where I underwent the challenge of living abroad. The last days were spent at bars, drinking Quilmes, the national beer, drinking cafe con leche on the sidewalk, under umbrellas, under the sun, and exchanging words of appreciation with the family I lived with for 5 months.
I turned in two large bags of clothes to the thrift store around the corner from my house in my neighborhood, Almagro (I had to check a third bag, getting home, i accumulated a lot). I got to know the women who worked there, at this thrift store, at least by name, and enough to exchange words when I would stop in, they would ask about the US and ask me how I was doing. I would go about two times a week to search the vast store, that looked like an old lady's walk-in closet. I found some wonderful things, including a vintage San Francisco t-shirt and one from Martha's Vineyard.
I walked down Rividavia, the main avenue that crossed with the street on which I lived, towards to heladeria, serving the some of the best gelatto in town. I passed by the store and Lydia was there, I told her I was leaving that day, and she immediately asked, "Cuando vas a volver?" When are you coming back? A popular question of all the porteños that I tell I am leaving after five months of living there. I told I didn't know, but that I would. I will. I started crying as I walked away from the store, where I had been able to exchange with these women, wonderful women who share my love for recycling clothes. I found so many cosas hermosas there...
I also had to say goodbye to waiter at the cafe on my corner, where I would go to use wireless internet. He was a cutie, with a smiling face, always asking me how I was doing, leaning in to give me the greeting, a beso on my cheek. The last time I went in there and sat down, as he passed by to greet me, this time he said "Diosa!" And came over to kiss my cheek. I was sad to say goodbye to such a guy. what a boludo!
I got in my cab, teary, said goodbye to Ana María and Eduardo and let it all out. Started crying a lot. My taxi driver, dressed all in white, perhaps some sort of sign sent from God, in the BA humidity, patiently waited for me to catch my voice. I said, "Disculpame, señor," excuse me, I am sorry for crying like this...
He said something like, "Ah, no, por favor, estas cosas son imortales, de la vida...." Así es las vida, así es...Such is life. Hard! Life is difficult, yet beautiful. There was no need to apologize. I loved that he said that, very porteño, and it was the last moment in that country, the last of many, when I felt accepted, I felt like I had figured out how to be. He let me know that it was fine, crying is ok, just like making out in a taxi is ok. Sometimes we can't help ourselves.
I told him I didn't want to leave and that I was going back to the US. He became choked up when he told me that his own daughter was soon going to the Montreal to do an exchange herself. To learn French and Spanish. He said, you are upset, imagine how I must be feeling! To see his 16 year old daughter go so far away! And on the Canadian dollar, even more expensive than the US! She asked that she had no birthday party to save money for her trip and time abroad. Vale la pena.
All I could say, all I could assure him of was, this is the best thing I have done in my life. It is the hardest thing and she will miss her country, she will miss her mother tongue, her family, her friends, but in the end she will feel accomplished and you sir, will be proud.

Happy to home in the States. All that I missed is here, was waiting for me, all is not lost from Argentina, but it is gone, and perhaps I am different, changed, transformed, matured, who knows? Only time will tell me and shed light on the answers.