Yesterday I arrived back in Spokane, WA after having been delayed two days leaving Buenos Aires because of the ashes in the air from the Chilean Volcano.
Walking through the security gates at Ezeiza (the international airport in BsAs), I felt my stomach and heart drop. I realized just then that I was walking away from a place that I'd grown to consider my home for the last almost 5 months. I would be leaving people behind, new friends, a routine and a lifestyle I'd become acustomed to, and a culture that I love.
On the flight to Atlanta, the flight attendants would try speaking to me in Spanish at first, and the man that worked in US customs, a man of Cuban descent, only spoke Spanish to me the whole time asking me the questions about my luggage thinking I was from Argentina, I feel like this was a sign that I pretty much adopted the place as my own! haha
While waiting in the airports (Salt Lake and Atlanta) I started to have this feeling of culture shock to my own culture. People would bump into me and I'd naturally respond with: "ay perdón" as well as hearing more English than I had been used to.
Back in Spokane it was different as well, driving again, seeing my friends, and the money situation. I paid with a $50 bill when I went out for Ice Cream with a friend and I asked the cashier if she could make change first. (She looked at me with a "duh of course" look). I'm so used to being asked for smaller bills or being told they couldn't make change for that. I kind of missed it in a way.
It's deffinately going to be a re-adjustment period back to life in good ol' Spokane.
But now I have this connection to another part of the world because of an experience that I would trade for anything!
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