Agridulce (bittersweet)

After the three months in the city that really sleeps; putting off dinner till 10, drinks till 1, and sleep until well into the next morning. After kissing more people in a day than I normally kiss in a year (on the cheek, don't worry mom, I still don't have herpes). After squinting away from uninvited besos from hombres and learning to push them away. After the imperfect subjunctive. After the irregular verbs. After steak stuffed with bacon and prunes. After declaring myself flexitarian, then redeclaring my vegetarian. After accidentlly telling my host mom I was pregnant (embarazada = pregnant in spanish). After dinner dates out worthy of reality TV air time. After sipping mate with poverty. After the legendary Malbeca wine, perhaps more legendary fernet, and defintely most legenday, absinthe. After bananas smothered in dulce de leche, and ice cream in dulce de leche, alfajores filled with dulce de leche, facturas with dulce de leche, and dulce de leche flavored flan topped with more dulce de leche. After the smells: fresh facturas, homemade pesto, the leather couch, the sidewalk, smog. After a glimpse of the barren Andes and a sip of tranquil Urguguay. After Subtes, buses and taxis. After oral exams. After feeling Iguazu Falls fall on top of me. After waking up to instant coffee and birthday cake. After going to sleep on a full stomach. After the noises; all the god damn noises: hammers, screams, drunk girls laughing outside the club, jackhammers, the horse opera behind my apartment, the boliche behind my apartment. After everyone: nancy, claudio, miriam, marlene, julian, little julian, cuca, gonzalo, uriel, martin, denise, bocha and malba, euge, andres. paola, maje, poala and itamar. After a three and a half months studying abroad in Buenos Aires, here I am at the end. But we all know that the end is only the beginning, right? I hope so.

When I came here a few months ago, I was Emma, age 20, a girl from a small town in California. And after all the afters, I'm still Emma, and still 20 years old (damnit), but I'm different. I've seen, heard, discussed and thought about things I would never see, hear, discuss or think about back home. I've been stretched, twisted and pushed way outside my box, and now I don't even know what my box is. And should I even have a box? Hmm. I'm not trying to get all metaphysical here, but really, this has been awesome, difficult, wonderful, and trying, and I will obviously carry this place, these people and these experiences through the rest of my life.

And the end is obviously on the the begining considering I get on a 22 hour bus headed roughly toward the fine nation of Bolivia.
After all the kisses
After learning some about us as a species, and more about me as a person.