Dear Argentina,

I miss your cold morning walks to our placement and your warm afternoons out on the patio for siesta. 

I miss the scalding-hot then freezing-cold showers that taught me how to bathe in under 3 minutes. 

I miss picking and peeling the clementines from the backyard tree that seemed to never run out. 

I miss our weekend bus trips and Shay's top-notch plans. 

I miss biking between the vineyards in Mendoza and attending wine tastings, swirling the wine and remarking on its legs, acting like we knew what we were talking about.

The vicious Subway-craving Coaties

The vicious Subway-craving Coaties

I miss Bryce after the Coatie at Iguazu Falls stole his lunch. Probably one of the funniest things I've witnessed to this day.

Picking up fresh produce and eggs from the store a few blocks from the house. 

Nutella and the rare spoonful of Bryce's much-coveted peanut butter.

My complete lack of black pepper for the entire summer and the actual withdrawal I experienced. 

I miss playing games in the kitchen before nights out in Córdoba. 

Buying the uncut bacon from the local butcher and attempting to cut and cook it VERY unsuccessfully. 

Preparing a meal as a house and bringing our kitchen tables and chairs out to the back patio where we feasted on kebabs, homemade burgers and salad to celebrate the 4th of July. Just to be surprised with a crepe/nutella layered cake for my birthday. 

I miss the sound of Jose's voice rumbling through the house, shouting "Good mooooorning" as he bounded through the living room at 3 in the afternoon. 

I miss his guitar and his rock songs by the bonfires. The way he cared and worried about us the way parents do.

His wild stories and the life we imagined he led when he wasn't with us. Pretending that he transformed into one of the backyard horses (Jorse).  

I miss Ariel's patient "I know what you're up to" looks and his incredible work ethic. The way he treated us like younger siblings. 

I miss Spanish lessons with Gisela in the afternoon, usually talking about our weekend plans and post-weekend adventures, me taking my best stab at storytelling in Spanish. 

Choripan.

The glow of the evening sun through the bright yellow backyard trees while we watched the horses next door.

Playing the grand piano in the front hall of the Milenium with nobody around.

The dogs. Especially Iris, the one with the blue eye. How she'd follow us all the way home some evenings to wait hopefully by the door, occasionally keeping Jose company but usually being shooed away, only to faithfully return the next morning. 

Cooking lunch in the afternoons with friends and sitting out in the back after a game of "body part ball," our take on the popular sport of "volleyball." Mostly just us being uncoordinated. Okay, me being uncoordinated. 

Ruben as Che

Ruben as Che

Our bus trip to Alta Gracia to see Che Guevara's childhood home, especially being able to be there with Ruben. Some really good talks with him. Getting so terribly lost in that neighborhood and ending up in the front yard of an abandoned house, finding a CT scan sheet and other odd treasures lying around.

The soccer game that we almost won. If it weren't for hilarious and crazy-tall Tiz. (Tiz, if you're reading this, I want a re-match and this time you're on my team.) 

Accidentally ending up in the city after Cordoba's futbol team had won the championship. I've never seen any celebration compared to it, seriously. It put our Franklin street couch fires to shame. 

The late nights at the art/craft market in downtown Cordoba. 

Learning how to light the stove and Jose waving his hand through the flame so I wouldn't be afraid. Showing Ariel and Jose how to make homemade pururu (popcorn)

Those mysterious dessert jellos and puddings.

Warm walks around the yard with Leo, running like kids to catch falling leaves, encountering odd shoes and daydreaming.

Listening to music late at night lying on the roof, bundled up underneath layers of clothes and bed comforters. That feeling of being surrounded by the sky above us.

Really seeing the stars and space for the first time. 

I miss going out with Shay to chop wood with the machete and bachata/salsa dancing by the bonfire. 

Extraño las mañanas con mis abuelitas preciosas. The way we greeted each other, with a touch of our cheeks. Singing and dancing with them and the sound of their beautiful voices. Making tissue paper flowers for them in the dining room and drawing mandalas for them to color. Being able to connect with them despite the language barrier and gaining a new appreciation for the universality of art and music.

I miss the people that made this experience more fulfilling than I could have ever imagined. The ones who made me laugh harder than I knew I possibly could, who took care of me after knowing me for a matter of days. The ones who taught me things about myself that I would never have been able to learn on my own. 

I miss you, Argentina. 

It was lit, fam.

It was lit, fam.

(to be continued)