After hours of flying and giving Mrs. Basin's children enough Swedish
Fish to feed a crowd, we've finally arrived in Argentina with open
arms. We were met at the airport by Eugenia, one of the teachers running
the exchange program, who took us to Colegio
del Salvador. After eating only airline food for the last two meals, we
feasted on medialunas and alfajores prepared for us by our host
brothers. If you've never had an alfajor, I sincerely feel sorry for
you and will personally bring one back for you. Seriously.
We met several members of the administration, including the director of
the school who gave each of us a personal welcome. Our brothers came to
join us soon after, and we picked up right where we left off on
February 11.
Our parents took us home from our meal, which for most of us is just a
few blocks from the school. After settling in, I was greeted with a
pasta lunch, just 30 minutes after breakfast in the family's beautiful
French-style apartment. Although I'm not accustomed
to eating so much so often, I've learned to love the custom of a
siesta. For the first time in my life, I fell asleep after a flight. Ask
anyone on the Dominican Republic service trip, I never fell asleep on any of our
flights or bus rides. I slept for a whole 5 hours, until
Nacho's father took us to dinner right down the street, where I dove
right into Argentinean steak. If anyone decides to come down here, the
restaurant is called Rigoletto Café near the intersection of Juncal and
Rodríguez Peña. You won't be disappointed.
Over dinner, Nacho's father asked me what sights I wanted to see
around the city. Little did I know that we were going to drive around
the entire eastern part of Buenos Aires. We saw the Casa Rosada
(basically the Argentinean version of the White House),
the National Bank, the Catholic University of Buenos Aires, a mural of
Evita Peron across the facade of one of the buildings, and the great
obelisk in the middle of Avenida 9 de julio, one of the widest streets
in the world. After dark, the city is illuminated
in colorful lights, especially the major sites. You might even compare
it to Times Square, only to be proven wrong by the distinct European
architecture that fills the city.
The next day, we took the Bondi (the bus) to the school, partly
because I woke up a little too late. Upon walking into the school, the
director personally greets everyone, including his foreign visitors,
with a welcoming hug everyday. We were given a tour
by Fefo, one of the former guides who traveled to Boston on the
exchange program and absolutely loves BC High. We had the opportunity to
play around in the gym after the tour, but being the athletically
deprived child that I am, I decided to try talking to
the students. I quickly made lots of new friends, but probably the
funniest thing was that while I was speaking my broken Spanish, tripping
on some vocab word that I forgot, they were speaking English almost
perfectly. These kids have studied English since
their first year of school, while many students in the US don't start
studying another language until high school. The experience is quite
humbling, to say the least. Almost everyone I've met has, at the very
least, some basic knowledge of English. You certainly
don't see any Americans speaking Spanish in their homeland.
That brings me to my favorite part of this country: the people. One
of the government ads you commonly see around the city is Argentina: un
país con buena gente. (Argentina: a country with good people.) I already said that I made new friends here, but I
can't emphasize enough how open and welcoming
everyone has been. This is what attracted me so much to the village of
Las Cruces in the Dominican Republic, and caused me to promise myself to
return there sometime in my life. I'm convinced that Spanish-speaking
people are the happiest on earth. The teachers,
students, and almost anyone you meet on the street (don't worry, the
only one I met was an alumni of Colegio del Salvador, and I actually
recognized him because he came to Boston on the program) will strike up a
conversation and want you to feel at home. I
don't know how many times my host mother has told me to call her in
case I need something. Our host brothers have even gone the extra mile
by bringing us all together for dinner on Friday night. I don't know
about anyone else, but ham and cheese empanadas
are now one of my favorite foods on earth. I know I have a second home
here, and I sincerely hope that our hosts feel the same way about
Boston. It hasn't even been a week into the program but I've already
asked myself, why do I always buy round trip tickets
when I go away?
¡Viva la patria!
Billy Sennott
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