The mountains here sing. I know it sounds crazy, but I don’t know any other way to explain it. They jet out in unique and awe inspiring ways, always a different color, constantly evolving with the weather. Daily I step outside and rarely am I disappointed. Most recently they have been belting out a warm and safe tune underlined with a deep sigh of peace, as rose tinted clouds envelop them. I love the mountains, ill never tire of them. Some of my favorites here are the ones near this little town me and Richie have begun volunteering in.Four days a week we take a bus out to the edge of town and play with forty(ish) spirited youngins. The town is heartbreakingly poor; shacks lined with broken fences face muddy rocky roads where scrappy little dogs meander aimlessly around. But surrounding this place is literally the most magnificent set of mountains I have ever seen. Whenever my heart feels like it can no longer handle the weight of once again being immersed in such poverty, I look up and the mountains, they sing to me. Either that, or I glance over at the seven boys pelting Richie with snow balls…their laughter also sings to me.
As I enter the halfway mark of my time down here, I have been doing a lot of personal reflection. Its been about 5 months since I’ve “lived” in the states, and I find myself hitting the inevitable wall of homesickness. Do not for a second take that the wrong way though. I LOVE how much I’m learning, I am making some unique friends full of quirky character, and I can now say with (slight) confidence that I can hold my own in Tango. I would not trade my time here for anything, and I am trilled I still have a month left here, but my heart misses my home. My friends and family and good coffee. Moving out of the country requires a lot of trust in my relationships back at home, that they will still be there for me when I get home, that they will be patient with me as I process through the last six months. My heart is quite possibly the most vulnerable it has ever been, cracked open by the grief of constant poverty. But I want to thank those of you in my life who have been there for me. THANK YOU. The lesson I talked about in the blog I wrote in Houston, about being wonderfully dependant, still holds true. I need my support system, and they have been there. Encouraging me in my walk with God, listening to my hurts and frustrations, and making me laugh uncontrollably, even from thousands of miles away. Especially Ricky (as people here call him, cause Richie is really hard for them pronounce). I am so lucky to have him as a travel buddy, we take care of each other, laugh together, and I thinks its safe for me to say we are both learning a whole forms of patience and thankfulness that is required of two people living together in a foreign country.
Argentina is nothing like I expected, but everything I had hoped for, and exactly what I needed. This culture is unique and fascinating, so dynamic and vibrant. Even the Spanish has its own flair. Bariloche suits me I think, beautiful and weird and diverse. Not overly friendly but always welcoming. So I embrace my next five weeks here, but I also look forward to a little slice of california summer, when I get to move into my apartment, and start the next season of my college journey. I trust Jesus even though at times it seems hard, because I know he is teaching me invaluable life “songs”.