¿Cómo lo hice? Bueno, yo zafé…

Looking back on my time spent in Argentina, I would have to say that “zafar,” or “to get by,” captures most perfectly my evaluation of the experiences I have had.  This semester was by no means an easy one.  I had my camera and wallet stolen the third week I was here, and my phone a few weeks after that.  I unintentionally took a senior-year art history class at a local university.  I got a first-hand look into the Argentine healthcare system when I developed a kidney infection.  And I can’t even begin to count the number of times I found myself wandering the streets without my Guia – T or an umbrella. 

But, despite all of these misfortunes, I still got by.  There’s not a doubt in my mind that the friends I have made here helped me with this, particularly when I had to borrow $300 pesos to pay for my visa so I could stay in the country while I was trying to live off a $100 pesos the week I was waiting for my new debit card, or when they used up all of their cell phone minutes to text me rather than talk via internet when I lost wireless service in my apartment half way through the semester. 

My host mother Cecilia threw me a bone every now and then too, like the time I locked myself in the bathroom for over half an hour, or when she had to answer the door at 4 AM because someone forgot her keys.  She never spoke a lick of English to me, and for that I have to thank her because I probably learned the most Argentine Spanish and history during our discussions over her somewhat interesting if not creative culinary concoctions (my personal favorite being the salad of rice, tuna, shredded carrot, eggs, and mayonnaise, a staple of the Argentina café menu).  And despite the language and culture barriers, which seemed to be a mile-high wall that first week I was here, I still managed to get by.

I know most people spend their last week or so wallowing in their fears that they didn’t do enough, that they never saw or experienced the real Argentina, didn’t have enough nights out, didn’t eat enough steak and empanadas, didn’t meet enough people.  Rather than wasting my time thinking about the “what if’s,” I’d rather take stock of all the accidents, the mishaps, the unintentionally offensive words and misunderstandings, the struggles, the challenges, and even the near-death experiences, all of the quilombos that my life in Argentina has accumulated, and thank God that I made it through alive, with most of my health, most of my sanity, some of the most amazing people I have ever met, and some of the most life-changing experiences I will ever have. 

The Argentine’s have another phrase that they use: ya fue. It’s used when to say that something bad has happened, but it’s time to forget about it and move on.  All of the experiences, both good and bad, have happened, whether I wanted them to or not, and while I certainly will try not to forget them, I know that this chapter of my life is coming to a close, and it’s time to prepare for the next one.  I came, I got by, I survived, and I’m ready for more.