Chau Chubut!

We went to Playa Unión to have our own mini JanServe. We picked up trash at the beach. The governor was right about the mindset of not picking up trash. So many people stared at us as if we were crazy people. They asked us why we were doing it, and once I tried to explain that it was to help keep the beach clean, they still didn’t quite understand. That night, Stephanie, Lauren, and I wanted to make norteamericano food for our families. Because we wanted them to have a full grasp of what we ate, we made breakfast, lunch, and dinner. We served lunch of macaroni and cheese and dinner of tacos fist, followed by breakfast of French toast. It worked out well and they all really liked it. It was fun playing with Ernestina as always, but this time it came with the accompanying realization that this could be the last time I have the opportunity to spend time with her.

That morning, we stopped in the panaderia we frequented to wish Valerie goodbye and eat our last media lunas. When we told her that we were leaving, her eyes welled up. After she gave us our pastries—for free, she wouldn’t take the money—she gave us big hugs and wished us good luck on our trip. Most of the day was pretty unexciting because it involved a lot of packing and getting things in order. Because Lauren’s suitcase was ripped, we had to find another. Our host sister told us that a store called La Capital sold them just across the street. When we walked in, all we could do was laugh. This store had everything, but somehow it was still so small. It had stoves, bathtubs, drumsets, suitcases, lamps, toys, bicycles, and cuckoo clocks. It seemed like such a random assortment of things. Once we were on our way out, we ran into Nora, Anibal, and Ernestina. Nora was going to drive us to school in the morning, but we said goodbye to Anibal and Ernestina. That night, we had our last dinner in Rawson with Gladys. When we talked over our meal, she started to cry. I wasn’t expecting that until the morning. I was touched that we affected her life that deeply.

They say that there’s nothing harder than saying goodbye. While I tend to disagree, goodbyes are sad. But I believe there’s beauty in that. It means that you were touched by someone and hopefully you reached their hearts as well. I wonder how much I’ll forget about my time in Rawson. Because I have traveled and lived with host families before, I don’t have the romanticized idea that I will remember each person or each story. I know that I will remember some things. I could never forget the utterly bewildered look on Gladys’ face when I would accidentally use a French word. I will remember how Nora would do everything she could to make sure we were having a wonderful experience and how quickly she would talk! I wonder how close we could have gotten if my Spanish was better. I won’t forget how Anibal would always be smiling and laughing at all of my jokes, though some weren’t funny and many were probably lost in translation. I will always remember how Ernestina would reach out her arms to me and how the slightest silly game I played with her would encourage her beautiful voracious laughter. Thinking back on these memories fills me with such joy, as I’m sure it will in a month and in eight years. Dr. Seuss—a valid diagnostician in my opinion—said “Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.” I believe that when you are saying goodbye (or ciao) that is the best advice you can receive.