Down Argentine Way
On some level, I always figured I was going to do grad school I just didn't know where and studying what exactly. It was never going to be pure communications; that was too broad and I wanted to combine my foreign language studies with my primary major towards something at the next level. After taking the GRE, I tentatively started applying for schools all over the world, really, but most realistically to schools all around the country. Most of these included international communications or international relations programs though I did actually apply for a linguistics program at Georgetown; during my interview for admittance, we both reached the conclusion that the degree wouldn't have been a good fit and I really wasn't interested in accruing over $100K in debt over the course of two years.
It ultimately came down to the University of Florida's International Communication program and George Mason University's Global Affairs program with a concentration in Media & Information Technology. The GMU application was almost an afterthought; the university is located in my hometown and I kind of applied on a lark. But the head of the entire department called me while I was waiting to take the Metro to work one day (I had listed my personal number on my resume as part of my application) and we spoke at length about the program. Everything I was unsure about with Georgetown wasn't there with GMU, there was no real uncertainty at all and he was impressed by my academic credentials such as they were. So, rather than moving down to Gainesville and becoming a Gator, I found myself back in my own backyard at Mason; everything that once was old was new again.
One of the selling points to this decision was that every student in this grad program had to do a study abroad over the course of their studies. I had written off the possibility of studying abroad ever happening again so this was all a very pleasant surprise. That it would be in Argentina, a country I had never been to before where I spoke the foreign language I was the most comfortable with was all just icing on the cake. If there was one thing I was working towards in that first year grind of grad school, it was the knowledge that I'd be spending a significant portion of that upcoming summer in Buenos Aires so I broke my back and kept my eye on the prize.
Couple big things about this trip: Since Buenos Aires is below the equator, it means even though I was flying down in June, it was in the middle of an Argentine winter. When I flew out of DC, it was a 104 degrees; later that week, the airport had to cut back on flights because the tarmac was so soft because of the heat. When I landed in Buenos Aires 10 hours later, it was in the low 50s with a cool breeze coming off the River Plata. I had packed accordingly but I remember as soon as I walked out of the airport and caught a full gust of that Argentine winter, I immediately turned on my heel, walked my sleepless, jetlagged ass right back into the airport, and bought a scarf.
Unlike the CNU study abroad trips where we did these big tours of the country at large, this study abroad involved going to class six days a week listening to guests lectures and taking notes upon notes; I like to compare grad school to a second job that you have to pay for (so choose well!) and that metaphor extended to my time in Argentina. Our academic facilities were located right in the heart of the business district around Avenida Florida so you would take the Subte every morning with the rest of the white collar commute, get lunch/coffee with everyone else (Usually a cafe con leche along with either a choripan or milenesa with empanadas on the side because in Buenos Aires it was, thankfully, empanadas with EVERYTHING), and walk home taking in the sights as we strolled by the River Plata or passed the Casa Rosada which was about a block away.
On this trip, I was sharing a studio apartment across from one of the University of Buenos Aires' campuses a couple blocks north of Recoleta, a pretty well-to-do neighborhood in the city that felt like a cross, aesthetically, between Paris and New York but still maintaining a distinctly Latin American vibe. We had a full kitchenette so we would cook and [try to] brew yerba mate which tasted awful so we stuck to Quilmes and fernet with cola while singing along to tracks from Newsies for some reason. Me and my flatmates hit it off pretty well going out to take in the Buenos Aires nightlife; similar to their European counterparts, the Argentines would go out around 8 or 9 for dinner and stay out in bars, clubs, and cafes until the early morning, even on weeknights. In a way, it reminded me a lot of Paris, sitting in those cafes that I seem to be the most comfortable in late at night, drinking coffee despite the hour, watching the world go by from those incandescently lit windows.
On Saturday nights, the one night of the week where we wouldn't have class the next day, I would go down to La Boca which was this hipper, more bohemian neighborhood and listen to bands covering Carlos Gardel and dancing tango in converted warehouses with strangers in the night, the music crackling like static out of speakers that were probably older than me. With so much time in the classroom or writing in the apartment, time actually hanging out in the city was a premium.
After all the parillas and hanging out in book shops like Ateneo (Which was right around the corner from my apartment), eventually I had to face the music and return home. I had one final semester of grad school waiting for me upon my return along and with it, new possibilities. Argentina would go down as the last place I would study abroad after so many memorable turns before it and I'm grateful I got that one last chance especially after the bittersweet ride that was Spain.
Before I got into grad school, I was restless and directionless; after all those years of college and coming off a breakup, I needed to remember why I started. Even though I don't necessarily use my grad degree in my daily life, what grad school did do was have me coming out more confident, more content, with a bit of a swagger in my step and a smirk on my face. And that all came from a promise to study abroad one final time.
It ultimately came down to the University of Florida's International Communication program and George Mason University's Global Affairs program with a concentration in Media & Information Technology. The GMU application was almost an afterthought; the university is located in my hometown and I kind of applied on a lark. But the head of the entire department called me while I was waiting to take the Metro to work one day (I had listed my personal number on my resume as part of my application) and we spoke at length about the program. Everything I was unsure about with Georgetown wasn't there with GMU, there was no real uncertainty at all and he was impressed by my academic credentials such as they were. So, rather than moving down to Gainesville and becoming a Gator, I found myself back in my own backyard at Mason; everything that once was old was new again.
One of the selling points to this decision was that every student in this grad program had to do a study abroad over the course of their studies. I had written off the possibility of studying abroad ever happening again so this was all a very pleasant surprise. That it would be in Argentina, a country I had never been to before where I spoke the foreign language I was the most comfortable with was all just icing on the cake. If there was one thing I was working towards in that first year grind of grad school, it was the knowledge that I'd be spending a significant portion of that upcoming summer in Buenos Aires so I broke my back and kept my eye on the prize.
Couple big things about this trip: Since Buenos Aires is below the equator, it means even though I was flying down in June, it was in the middle of an Argentine winter. When I flew out of DC, it was a 104 degrees; later that week, the airport had to cut back on flights because the tarmac was so soft because of the heat. When I landed in Buenos Aires 10 hours later, it was in the low 50s with a cool breeze coming off the River Plata. I had packed accordingly but I remember as soon as I walked out of the airport and caught a full gust of that Argentine winter, I immediately turned on my heel, walked my sleepless, jetlagged ass right back into the airport, and bought a scarf.
Unlike the CNU study abroad trips where we did these big tours of the country at large, this study abroad involved going to class six days a week listening to guests lectures and taking notes upon notes; I like to compare grad school to a second job that you have to pay for (so choose well!) and that metaphor extended to my time in Argentina. Our academic facilities were located right in the heart of the business district around Avenida Florida so you would take the Subte every morning with the rest of the white collar commute, get lunch/coffee with everyone else (Usually a cafe con leche along with either a choripan or milenesa with empanadas on the side because in Buenos Aires it was, thankfully, empanadas with EVERYTHING), and walk home taking in the sights as we strolled by the River Plata or passed the Casa Rosada which was about a block away.
On this trip, I was sharing a studio apartment across from one of the University of Buenos Aires' campuses a couple blocks north of Recoleta, a pretty well-to-do neighborhood in the city that felt like a cross, aesthetically, between Paris and New York but still maintaining a distinctly Latin American vibe. We had a full kitchenette so we would cook and [try to] brew yerba mate which tasted awful so we stuck to Quilmes and fernet with cola while singing along to tracks from Newsies for some reason. Me and my flatmates hit it off pretty well going out to take in the Buenos Aires nightlife; similar to their European counterparts, the Argentines would go out around 8 or 9 for dinner and stay out in bars, clubs, and cafes until the early morning, even on weeknights. In a way, it reminded me a lot of Paris, sitting in those cafes that I seem to be the most comfortable in late at night, drinking coffee despite the hour, watching the world go by from those incandescently lit windows.
On Saturday nights, the one night of the week where we wouldn't have class the next day, I would go down to La Boca which was this hipper, more bohemian neighborhood and listen to bands covering Carlos Gardel and dancing tango in converted warehouses with strangers in the night, the music crackling like static out of speakers that were probably older than me. With so much time in the classroom or writing in the apartment, time actually hanging out in the city was a premium.
After all the parillas and hanging out in book shops like Ateneo (Which was right around the corner from my apartment), eventually I had to face the music and return home. I had one final semester of grad school waiting for me upon my return along and with it, new possibilities. Argentina would go down as the last place I would study abroad after so many memorable turns before it and I'm grateful I got that one last chance especially after the bittersweet ride that was Spain.
Before I got into grad school, I was restless and directionless; after all those years of college and coming off a breakup, I needed to remember why I started. Even though I don't necessarily use my grad degree in my daily life, what grad school did do was have me coming out more confident, more content, with a bit of a swagger in my step and a smirk on my face. And that all came from a promise to study abroad one final time.
