But the good thing is I still have some time left in Argentina to scoop up more dulce de leche ice cream, accompanied by the mini-cake aka alfajor aka little piece of heaven that Argentina is so known for. I have recently started my International Research summer, the third segment of the four summers generously subsidized as part of the Morehead-Cain Scholarship at UNC. My research is part sociological, part economic, based on poverty and the different ways that government, NGOs, and individuals treat those who are impoverished around the world. Already having experienced days speaking with individuals who are either impoverished or those who tirelessly work to better the lives of these people in Asia and North America, my goal was to go to every continent to investigate the intersection between human behavior, classism, culture, and economy. I have been able to perform "case studies" of the culture in Ban Phao, Laos (see previous blog entries), Washington, DC, the Triangle area of North Carolina, and Atlanta, Georgia in the US, Mendoza, Argentina, and Valparaiso and Santiago in Chile. My next step is Chaco, Argentina, the poorest province of the country, plagued with local government corruption, deforestation, destruction of indigenous way of living and society, and continuous problems with child labor and sex slavery. After that, I'm off to the beautiful Iguazu Falls (a new natural wonder of the World, Niagara Falls on steroids), then to visit friends and work for a week in Buenos Aires. I will also visit and work with friends who have connections with non-profit organizations in Montevideo, Uruguay, and on August 3 I head to Sevilla, Spain, to step foot on the 4th continent I've been to in a little over 1 year. I have a few connections in Spain, and plan to travel to Morocco (marking continent number 5!) until August 16th, when I will take my tired and traveled body back to Cary, North Carolina, with a home-cooked meal, laundry machine, and family waiting for me (hint, hint, Mom, Dad, and brothers). I am constantly amazed at how much I have been blessed, to be able to have the finances, time, and wonderful friends that have helped me be able to travel and change and learn and grow so much.
Speaking of growth, since last blog post, I certainly have grown. As I said, I was planning on running a marathon, and spent my first weekend in a hostel, ending the long weekend with the 42K (26.2) mile run. It was a struggle, but I got through it in around 3 hours and 40 minutes. Though from mile 15 to mile 26 I swore I would never run again and cursed my masochistic self for signing up for this hell, but at the 26.2 mile finish line, my attitude completely reversed. If I don't control myself, I might become obsessed with running marathons. It is a feeling like no other. The satisfaction and joy of completing the race, couple with the bananas, Gatorade, and medal, minus the excruciating pain in my leg muscles and uneasy digestion system, is compared to few others. I was able to meet people who were also running the marathon, and the bond was interesting, how we were able to spend so long conversing simply because we were both going to experience this race. I also made friends with other travelers at the hostel. For those of you who have experienced the hostel culture, you know what I mean when I say the hostel culture is, for lack of a better word, unique. A 30 year-old will come up to a 19 year-old, introduce himself in whatever language he sees fit, and the 19 year-old will invite him to dinner with the 2 others he is traveling with. A Frenchman and an Australian will bond over a hatred for a certain alcoholic drink popular within the community, and locals who are traveling for a three-day weekend will go out with foreigners traveling for 3 months. I was able to make a million connections, and was definitely in my element. Now I have connections and contact information for a 40 year-old man who lives with his mom in Southern Argentina, a Coloradoan guy who works in a Chilean ski slope, 4 collegiate females from Buenos Aires, and an Australian-Indian who offered me to stay in his house in Sydney in the future (which I totally plan to do). I thought I was going to meet Lance Armstrong, but he decided not to run the race because of some stupid thing called the Tour de France; but instead I met one of the top 5 marathoners in Argentina, who chatted with me about everything from politics to health and fitness over none other than a quarter-pounder McDonald's cheeseburger. But hey, if you run that much and that fast, you can eat whatever you want.
Classes ended, as well as the program, with an Almuerzo de Despedida (Goodbye Lunch) at a lush hotel. Afterward some friends and I went to about 5 of my favorite dessert/croissant places to say goodbye to the owners who by now knew me, not by name, but as "hombre que nunca termina" - the man who is never finished. Goodbyes are always so strange to me. In fact, I do whatever I can to avoid the goodbye. I always end it with a "see you soon," know that I, in fact, will most definitely NOT see them soon or a "can't wait until you visit me" promising that we OBVIOUSLY will have the time, money, and freedom to travel the hundreds or thousands of miles to see each other. I get awkward and fiddle with my hands and squirm so that I don't have to hug goodbye, and usually go for the thumbs-up or the high-five, because I'm afraid that one more hug will break me into pieces. Of course, this is all subconscious, and I don't think about the actually meaning of "Have a good life" until hours later, curled up on an airplane or a bus trying to keep every memory of that person or place alive so it will stick forever.
So see you soon, can't wait until you visit me, and until later,
Will
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