Week 10: Epilogue

A cool picture of Santiago's new international terminal, taken from this fascinating article.

What was weird about the international terminal in Santiago was that the crowd of travelers was directed to go through immigration first. Normally, I am used to completing security before getting my passport stamp, so this was new to me. An older couple behind me seemed even more confused; the lady asked me what was going on and told me that she doesn't usually get passport stamps leaving a country. I told her that that wasn't really my experience, but there was a time leaving Mexico earlier this year where I didn't get a stamp. (This bothers me a little because it throws off the number and origin of stamps I have on each page.) I chatted with them a while to bide the time in line. The lady was Mexican but her husband was Chilean, and they lived in the USA. I told her about how much James and I love Mexico, and she said it's not often she hears people say good things about her country.

At one point while the line snaked along, I noticed a kid in the row ahead of me wearing a jacket that said "Rotary Youth Exchange." I tried to find him again as I advanced in the line, but I lost him in the crowd. However, after I went through security and made it through the Duty Free, I saw him looking at a departures screen. I immediately went up to him and asked, "Are you going on exchange?" He looked back at me and replied, "Yes! Are you?"

I laughed. I told him no, but I did go on exchange more than ten years ago. (He later told me I didn't look a day older than 22.) He seemed excited to meet me, and he admitted that he was a bit nervous. I told him I understood exactly how he was feeling. I also told him how thrilled I was for him and about how he was about to live the best year of his life. He would make the most amazing friends. In fact, I told him, I had been traveling around South America for two months and got to see two of my friends from exchange. At that moment, I thought of Vivi and Ignacio and how at one point they too were teenagers about to leave South America for Europe. 

The kid told me that he was going to Hamburg, that Germany wasn't one of his choices at all, but his host family was very sweet. They even took note of his birthday. He told me that his mom cried while seeing him off at the airport. "But I didn't cry," he remarked proudly. He said he didn't speak any German at all, and his English was terrible. I told him that he would learn German and even improve his English, because he would have to use English to speak with the other exchange students. He said, "Huh, I didn't even think of that!"

Because my gate wasn't going to be posted for a while, I accompanied him to his gate. He asked me if I wanted to play the Nintendo Switch. I said sure, if he had Mariokart, which he did. I told him I used to play Mariokart on the Nintendo DS, and he was shocked at how much that dated me. (I found out he was only fifteen, so my DS was older than him.) He asked me what course I wanted to play, and I said whichever one had Rainbow Road. We selected characters, and he picked my go-to before I could, Dry Bones (or Huesitos in Spanish). I settled for Yellow Yoshi. Back in the day, I was a beast at Mariokart, but I wasn't used to playing it on the Switch, nor was I playing my lucky character. The first three courses, I lost miserably, while the kid won them all. He would exclaim "What a SHAME!" whenever I fell off the track. However, when it came to Rainbow Road, I took the lead and was in first place well into the second of three laps. I was about to win when the announcement said that his flight to Barcelona was about to start boarding. The kid stopped the game. I told him, "Just when I was about to win!" He put his Switch away, frantically looked for his boarding pass, and then found it in a folder in his bag.

I asked him for his name. I found out that it was Bastián. "Nice to meet you, Amanda," he told me. "Wish me luck! Manifest with me that I'll meet a lot of cute guys in Germany!!" I told him I would manifest that and that he could always count on me. By that point, my gate had been posted. Bastián and I said good-bye to each other, and I embarked on the eighteen-minute walk to my gate so that I could finally begin my journey home.

On this trip, I became even more conscious about the fact that there is a whole generation younger than me, getting to know the world around them. I think of Mila and Lara, the Bolivian twins, whom I was finally so happy to meet after seeing them grow up on Instagram. One of them asked James and me if we were siblings or married, which I thought was hilarious. "Do they not see race?" I laugh whenever I recount the episode with James. While older people would often ask me when or if I wanted kids, younger people would ask me about my travels. One that stood out in particular was my receptionist at the hostel in Punta Arenas. She was born and raised in Punta Arenas and hadn't traveled much, but she was hoping to soon. She got to meet a lot of travelers through her part time job at the hostel and enjoyed talking to them. I asked her about herself, and she told me that she would be starting university soon and was hoping to study biochemistry. She told me that she was also interested in tourism, though, and noted that she was open to her plans changing. "Sometimes you don't know what life has in store for you," she commented. I was impressed with her forethought. At her age, I was 100% certain I was going to be a doctor, then life threw me for a loop. I ended up studying anthropology, traveling the world, and going to law school to be a labor lawyer instead. (At least for now.)

Some things, however, haven't changed, and at this point I am convinced never will change. I will always be fascinated by the diversity that our world contains, and I will always seek out experiences that bring me closer to people. The best way to get to know a new place is through the people who call it home–whether it be old friends, new friends, tour guides, or other serendipitous encounters. The ocean will always be my favorite natural wonder, though it seems like the mountains are steadily gaining more favor in my heart, especially in the winter. And finally, as much as I love traveling, I love coming home just as much.

It has been a wonderful week back home in Boston so far. I've been keeping busy preparing for the upcoming semester, doing art, and chilling with my roommates. James and my mom requested that I write an epilogue blog entry, and fortunately for them, I found the time to do so today. Not sure there is much more to reflect on that hasn't already been said, but I did want to share two watercolor paintings I did on this trip.

The first painting was sketched on site at Cafe Mikuy, in the historical center of Cochabamba. James and I ordered a giant portion of pique macho and I had a delicious iced coffee. I started painting while waiting for our food, but set it aside to complete later. I completed it ten days later in Sucre, Bolivia's other capital. We spent most of our one day in Sucre relaxing at our lovely bed and breakfast with a garden courtyard, since I got sick after our exploits in Potosí. Finishing the painting was a great excuse to relax and enjoy some tranquility.

I was hoping to do more paintings while on my vacation in Patagonia, but my schedule was just too full of traveling and touring. Moreover, it was very cold, and not exactly the kind of weather you want to be outside to paint in for a couple of hours. However, while preparing to leave my hotel in Puerto Natales, I felt the immediate need to sketch the view outside my window. In the last half hour or so I had before checking out, I inked the view in front of me into my sketchbook. Then I took a picture so that I could have the reference when I painted it.

A few days ago, almost 6,500 miles away from Puerto Natales, I filled in the sketch with watercolor. I sat at my desk and played Pride and Prejudice in the background because I wanted to see Tom from Succession as Mr. Darcy. I painted for pretty much the length of the entire movie. I had to supplement the reference picture I took with my imagination, since the peaks of the mountains were obscured while I drew from life. What I appreciate about painting is that you can deviate from reality however you see fit. In doing so, I endeavor to create art that captures a feeling, rather than just a scene.

I like to think my writing does the same.