Sitting at home at my kitchen table in Connecticut, bordered to the east by a precariously frozen lake and to the west by an assembly line of wind-stripped trees, it's difficult to envision precisely what my life (two weeks from now) in Buenos Aires will entail. Swapping hemispheres ensures a reversal of these sub-zero temperatures. And culturally speaking, I've heard tango, tasted dulce de leche, and tackled Borges and Cortazar (with debatable success). But otherwise, having never been to Argentina myself, I am admittedly, wholeheartedly, a lost gringa. And so this blog.
At this point, I'm certain of what I don't want this venture to be-- Not a "dear diary," nor a "dear mom and dad." Not a vehicle for shoddy camera phone pictures of nights (and mornings) of debauchery, of red wine splattered summer dresses and suspect club lighting.
What I envision is a text, photo and video extension of life in B.A. Not my life per se, but the various walks of life I encounter throughout my semester abroad. Essentially, points of interest for those back home-- 'citizen journalism' i believe they're calling it? With a hint of 'travel writing,' perhaps?
Prior to the eleven hour flight, before meeting Olga and Jorge (my host family), without ever having inhaled the purportedly 'good air,' my vision is still incomplete, my motives without true definition or form.
To my northern readers (even if, in the end, you are only mom and dad) thank you for trusting my ability to separate the minutiae from the mind-blowing as I gladly stumble through my semester, frozen lake and lonely trees (temporarily) forgotten.