ButterfliesSantiago, Fall 2012
Between summer classes, moving out of my apartment, cramming 5 months’ worth of “see you later”s into 2 days, and a frantic departure from Vermont, there has not exactly been a lot of time this summer for me to ponder what lies ahead in South America. But ever since the end of the spring semester, I’ve had a vague of awareness of the adventure that has been lurking just over the horizon. This awareness usually manifests itself as a constant, faint excitement, but now that all my bags are all packed and I’ve left home in the rear-view, it’s turning into nerves awfully quickly. Daydreams of Tierra del Fuego and the Andes are turning into daynightmares (I know it’s not a word, just roll with it) of the moment when I meet my host mother, giver her a big hug, and then realize I am completely incapable of communicating with her. Although I realize that this meeting most likely won’t unfold this way, it’s still easy to single out as being the scariest event in the foreseeable future. Now that I’m good and nervous, the moment of my simultaneous departure from America and my comfort zone is bearing down on me like a wild bus, so I guess there’s nothing to do but roll with it and see where it takes me.
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