Waiting for the Rain.

The honeymoon stage only lasts so long. Eventually you hit a lag in the relationship. I felt like I wasn’t as excited every day as I had been and it began to worry me. Had I gotten sick of BA so soon? Was I BORED with studying abroad? How can this be?!

Perhaps watching my other friends finally begin their own study abroad adventures had something to do with it. They began posting pictures and blogging about their clumsy firsts with their new foreign city discoveries. I felt like I wasn’t doing anything as cool or unique as the rest of them during my time abroad. People from home want to hear exciting stories and I never know what to tell them.

Wait. Hold up. Rewind, Ship. Saying you’re not doing something exciting is easily one of the dumbest things you could ever think or say. And you’re not a fan of calling things dumb, like ever.

The only reason I’ve felt like I haven’t been running rampant around a new city is because I haven’t. Buenos Aires isn’t new anymore. Six weeks and I’ve reached full adjustment. I’m in a land of comfort. Not to say there aren’t constant bumps in the road, but I’ve hit a level of normalcy here.  I’m straight up living here and I didn’t even realize it.

I’m living in Buenos Aires. I am no longer just a tourist traveling around for a few weeks.

I am living in Buenos Aires.

Okay. This is super cool. No. This is AMAZINGLY cool.

 ~~

It’s not until I am speaking to someone who doesn’t live here, that I realize this – the whole, I’m actually living here and am totally handling this new life fairly well.

We will FaceTime and you will ask me why it’s suddenly really loud from my side of the screen. It will take me a moment to realize car alarms are going off outside, or the train warning cars not to cross the tracks is beeping, or construction is going on because it’s late at night and that’s when they work on our streets, or it’s fifteen taxis and cars honking for someone to drive a little bit faster so they can get on their way too. I will laugh because I didn’t even notice it this time.

You will ask me about my day. Well, let’s see. Today I saw a gross, reddish cockroach scaling the wall by the exit stairs in the subte station. The stranger in front of me pointed it out and we chuckled about how ugly it was. Then he apologized for “ruining” our day by noticing it. You will then want to know if the Argentine men are all good-looking and I will roll my eyes and say no. You might ask about the catcalling on the streets. I tell you I always walk with a purpose and turn away from the men in cars who yell “Amor” or other potentially seductive phrases. I want to tell you how last night a young man began yelling “Chica, chica! Señorita, perdon – perdon!” at me from behind. I want to tell you how he persisted though I didn’t even flinch towards him, keeping up my steady pace but lengthening my strides each time to make it a little faster to Magdelena’s – only two blocks away. I’d like to explain to you how he proceeded to yell things such as, “Tengo miedo, miedo” and “Partee? You going to a party?” as if my back side screams extranjero just as loud as the rest of me. I want you to smile because I saw a police car on the corner and knew I would yell something to them if I thought I was in serious danger with the man still following me, whistling a strange tune, but now I am almost to my friends and surrounded by people. I know I’m okay.

This is a story I don’t share because I don’t want to frighten you. This is an anomaly for me. Story worthy, yes, but just about as exciting as my host brother yelling inappropriate sexist profanities during a fútbol game at dinner. Okay. That was only one time, too. He had no idea I heard him or understood his Spanish which made it that much more comical for me.

I want to tell you every little story that I find exquisite in my daily life, the many moments that I make myself inhale and breathe into for a second longer than most. But I don’t because I fear they will bore you.

You don’t want to update me on your life because you don’t think it compares. Well, you can’t ever compare lives that’s just silly. I want to hear about your days because I love you and miss you and I think  your experiences are just as important as mine here.

 ~~

I can’t help but think about my time in Buenos Aires as a relationship. From the post-honeymoon period to the deeper level of understanding I’m reaching. Sorry boys, but I’m committing to my now fairly serious relationship with a city and can’t call myself single anymore. I constantly wonder if I’m more or less my truest self  here, since I’m essentially alone and cut off from all that I’ve ever known. I’m content not knowing the answer, instead allowing myself to think and feel and just be. 

I’m learning how to walk again. I’ve always been a runner, perpetually moving towards something ahead of me. I think BA wants to teach  me how to listen and look more clearly. To remind myself to stop rushing and making deadlines. It’s okay if you’re late. It’s okay if you’re not wearing proper footwear. It feels good to stand in the rain and let it pour over you. You’ll dry off eventually.

Sometimes it feels as if you’re barely surviving. You’re still treading lightly here as if it were all a dream. The lightning strikes hard here, as it it’s pushing the clouds beneath the ground – trying to make its voice heard above all the commotion. It’s almost deafening, in the loveliest of ways. I can only wish to be the thunder that haunts those bright echoes of light. To be the confidence and the strength of those sounds, rather than the small vulnerable voice I am in this big, big city. I lay awake at night listening to the sun and moonlight mix. 

There’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be right now.

You were meant for this; to help you become more of the person you are destined to be.

In the morning, you take another sip of coffee as you look out your bedroom window to the vast city before you – now rosy pink from the fight it had last night – and you think to yourself, Look at you. You’re thriving.