Arrival

The plane will be dashing down soon.

Next to me, a snowbird from Colorado says, "What are YOU going to do in Argentina?"

I answered with speed since family friends exclaimed the same question, when they heard I was moving to Argentina. Yet, each response I delivered varied depending on my audience.
But, usually it was a simple, short reply, "I'm going to live and work in Buenos Aires."

"Am I really planning on doing that?" I thought to myself, "will I not be eating steaks, having adventures, meeting beautiful woman, and visiting different regions while living in one of the best cities in the world."

It was described in books as the home of tenderloin and tango and of fine wine and futbol. So I was prepared to consume, and everything in Argentina, I heard, is a third of the cost of what it is in the US, so I might actually be able afford it. Then I would come home spectacularly broke, and finally, I would start my grown-up life.

Sure, I do have other ever so slightly more profound reasons for wanting to move to another part of the world. I want the experience of living in a foreign culture. Maybe I might find a job working for an American corporation, or, maybe, I might learn to speak Spanish fluently. In all honestly though, I didn't really think the whole thing through. After all, we live in an epoch where everything seems to work itself out. At my graduation my peers were talking about his or her new job. Furthermore, the keynote of the speaker at the graduation ceremony was to not avoid the things we don't want to do because, at some point, we are going to have to do it anyways.

Still not sure I want to do the types of jobs that my degree lends itself to, I deciede to travel instead.

Before leaving, a friend of mine told me, "We are part of a generation called the watchers and wanters."

I have designs on becoming a wealthy business owner, of course, and the most momentous endeavor so far was a marijuana garden in my garage--not exactly the sort of thing that had shape Warren Buffet's career. So, I'm coming here to seek something simple but elusive--experience. I suppose, I want to see how I could survive on my own merits.

Let me put it another way: I have no idea of what I'm in for...


The plane banked over Buenos Aires. Excited as I was, I could hear my heart thumping, and aprrehension came over me. Suddenly, the thought hit me: I have journeyed far from home, away from the comforts and familiarity of my culture and my lanuage. This hadn't been my first trip out of the country, but I had plans, places to go, and people to see. One year, I had spent a semester abroad in Australia (but hasn't everybody done a semester abroad?).

Going through immigration, I quickly realized how difficult it was going to be to communicate simple things. It seems that they speak a little more English than I know of Spanish, which makes me feel slightly inferior because by necessity I'm not forced to learn their language. Yet each and every day attempts are made by me to learn the language (note this passive sentence). So, three months after my college graduation, with no definite plans when I'm returning, and about $4000 in the bank account, no job, and no experience with the language--I'm in Buenos Aires.