Nos Vemos, Not Goodbye

The crew in the desert

 When people ask, "How was Chile?" I often stammer or simply become silent for a few seconds. They might take this to mean that I didn't have a good time or that I was too homesick, but it is really quite the opposite. When I'm asked that question, my mind is flooded with memories; friendships - those made and those solidified, conversations with my host mom, the full breadth of landscapes I walked within including desert, glacier, forest, ocean, mountain etc., and nights at the bar with friends, laughing harder than I can remember. How do I put that in a way that won't breach the rules of small talk, sound like a litany, or make it seem like I'm bragging about all the fun I had abroad? I simply say, "It was pretty amazing. I saw a lot of things and went to a lot of places while meeting some great people."

It's definitely strange being back. Obviously, the snow and sixty+ degree temperature difference play a large role in that. Having to drive twenty minutes to get somewhere also doesn't compare to walking for ten or hopping on a bus accompanied by an under-appreciated Chilean musician or two. I've also had plenty of people fail to recognize me at first glance, something that surprised me because I didn't think I changed all that much physically, their excuses being my changed complexion.

But, it was within my renewed interactions with old friends and family that I came to the realization that my semester in Chile had become a sort of time capsule. Not the Narnia sort where one side progresses while nothing has changed in the other, but rather more like two roads that diverged in a yellow wood  (couldn't resist the Robert Frost reference) only to rejoin together later on. The best comparison I can draw upon is the adventure of a few choice hobbits who returned home after an extended period of time experiencing something vastly different from the rest of their community. Although we try with photos and videos, my group's memories are truly our own. They've changed us in multiple ways, most of which we might not even be able to recognize about ourselves quite yet. But, small or large, my gut tells me those changes were for the better. The small town, running-laps-around, getting-his-head-checked-for-ticks-at-sundown kid in me feels like a rubber band that had been stretched for a semester only to be released and return longingly home to a whitewashed Hoth-like environment that would make Ned Stark from Game of Thrones cringe. But he's got his wide-eyed, do-or-die, I'd-better-try-this other side to compete with; one who feels that, after having spent a mere 4 months in another country, has just noticed a thousand windows of life swing open at once. I think I found where those two sides meet while sitting in my aisle seat on the plane away from Chile. I relished seeing family and friends, but not at the expense of leaving a country that had welcomed, adopted, and cared for me so well. I wanted to return to one home, but hated leaving another. As I sat in that plane, I felt as a part of two cultures as I ever had, a feeling I hope to feel again someday.

So, how was my semester abroad in Chile? It was pretty amazing. I saw a lot of things and went to a lot of places while meeting some great people. And I'll never, ever forget it. More importantly, as my hand hesitates over the button that finalizes this post, I sincerely hope that this isn't goodbye, but rather nos vemos.

JJ