Arriving, and meeting my host mom!

One of Cristina's Paintings (My host mom) After flying in to Buenos Aires, NYU bussed all the students to the academic center. Dripping sweat from the hot and humid air of the city, I dragged my two pieces of luggage, both just barely under the 50 pound limit for international flights, across the street and into the building. I was immediately shocked by the beauty of the academic center. The lounge area, with high ceilings, marble decorations, and beautiful wood, felt very romantic and I could not believe that I would be studying in such an amazing building.

After taking in the environment, I snacked on some empanadas and other small Argentine foods provided by NYU. I wasn’t well informed about the day’s schedule, so I wondered when I would be taken to my home stay. To pass the time I introduced myself to a few of the other students, and eventually I was told that I was supposed to check-in because many of our home stay parents were already in the building and waiting for us. Nervously, I approached a faculty member and gave her my name and the home stay contact name that I had been e-mailed a week or so ago. The faculty member smiled, and informed me that Cristina, my host mother, was already here waiting for me. Since I had been looking forward to meeting my home stay family for months, I was surprised that when I realized that this moment was about to happen I felt horribly nervous rather than excited. My mind was flooded with questions. I knew nothing about my family…what if they didn’t like me or the way I dressed? What if I was super awkward around them? What if we couldn't communicate at all because of the language barrier? Before I had the time to figure out the answers, I was greeted with an Argentine kiss from Cristina Plate, my new host mother. Quite obviously, the first thing I noticed was her physical appearance—I thought she was beautiful.  She was an older lady, but she was dressed chicly, and very well kept. I had heard before that Latin Americans are very conscious of their self image, and Cristina seemed to confirm this in every way.

My first conversations with Cristina were slightly awkward…my Spanish is horrible and I had difficulty understanding her, but fortunately, she spoke enough English for us to get by. As I gathered my luggage to bring back to my new home, more thoughts and questions occupied my mind…I wondered what Cristina thought about me

and if she was upset that my Spanish wasn’t perfect, I anticipated what my new home would look like, and I pondered if I had any other family members. We transported my bags into a cab outside, and I was embarrassed about how heavy the bags were. After heaving the luggage in the back, I quickly learned that a ride in an automobile with an Argentine driver is far crazier than any NYC taxi ride. Cristina and I nervously spoke to each other about my flight and my travels here. Right before we arrived at my new home, she told me that I would be living with just her, and she explained to me that the apartment was small and humble but perfect for the two of us. I was happy to learn that it was just me and Cristina—although some people specifically requested homes with lots of people, for some reason, I hoped that I would live with a widow!

...that was my experience meeting my host. Now that I have gotten to know Cristina better, I feel so lucky to be living with her. She is a painter, which means a lot to me because I really wanted a host that was interested in art. Her work is beautiful and she is going to hook me up with some art lessons in the city. She makes delicious food, buys me chocolate covered alfajores, and has the coffee all set for me every morning…I couldn’t ask for anything more!