Hello Buenos Aires

Don't you hate those days when you've just met your home stay Madre after a thirteen hour flight and she walks out the door rolling something off her tongue in Spanish that you think means she's going to the market and when the door closes behind her you trip on a loose board in the floor gouging a hole in your foot so you make a little trail of red footprints to grapple down the first aid kit you had just put on the top shelf while trying to deter your madre's dog from licking up the little splatters of blood and fiddling around with some kind of gauze because you seem to be out of those simple little stick on band-aids when the dog grabs the gauze and runs under the table and you spend ten minutes prostrate on the ground trying to lure him out with a dried plantain chip from the cupboard?

And don't you hate it when you clean it up before she gets back but then decide to take a shower while she makes dinner and step over the toilet that is in the shower and there's only half a door so you accidentally flood the bathroom while trying to figure out how to make hot water come from random little tubes hanging like garden snakes on the wall and then have to emerge sopping wet limping on your foot to ask to hang up the clothes you used to wipe up the water and she pulls down the air drying rack from the ceiling that you have to duck under to get to your room?

I actually loved it. It was all so surreal. For those that don't know, I'm studying in Argentina for the school year. My Madre picked me up and took me to her apartment today on the fourth floor with an accordion door elevator. She showed me how to boil water and she took me to the balcony with little violet flowers and black netting around the fence so her dog can go out too. She asked if I liked tea and I said I did, so she made me a cup of something that smelled deliciously like peach with a mini spoon and tray and saucer and then sat down with a notepad on her lap and asked what I liked to eat. I told her eggs for breakfast, but apparently they don't eat eggs for breakfast here. Apparently they don't eat anything at all for breakfast. She asked if I liked milk, and I was about to tell her that I couldn't have cow's milk, but the words froze in my throat. I told her I couldn't have "leche de moo moo." She cooed over the chocolate and peanut butter and dog treats I brought her and I smiled. She makes the cutest little sound effects when she tries to communicate. I love that little bathroom, I love that Schnauzer dog, and I love my Madre. She brought me back three different crackers from the market to see which one I liked best. This year looks charmingly promising. So thankful for these little smiles.

 The view from my balcony

My bathroom

 My bedroom