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Lately, I haven't been able to get over that feeling that everything really does happen for a reason. Now, I have always believed this but for the most part I have not had such obvious examples, things that I have been able to trace a path of decisions, events, choices...I have had these small epiphanies, little feelings, big decisions, tears and joy and lately it has all just felt... right. I still worry, make too many plans, and make mistakes but the biggest thing is I never find myself asking "what if?"

All of the events in our lives add up to the sum, the whole of it. I am a firm believer that happiness is found in action, that it does not just come to us and that it is also a state of mind. I have already adressed this a bit, but more than ever, I am realizing how swiftly our lives can be pushed onto a different track. Despite the countless decisions and happenings that put me on track to live in another country for a semester, the earthquakes in Chile are what I look back at when I wonder how I got to where I am today.

It all plays out like a movie every time I think about it; the first flight from Atlanta and hearing all of the spanish speakers, hugely excited for a country I had researched relentlessly for months. I had my passport in my hand getting on the plane, finger pressed against the new Visa I had picked up in Chicago after months of mail, calls, money, and paperwork. I was shaking of excitement, imaging my new host family, the two dogs, the fresh seafood and small coastal towns I would visit. My head was swarming, but I was not only happy - I was worried. My first time flying internationally, my limited spanish freezing up, disolving as I tried to recall the simplest phrases. Then the issue of time, the weight of what I was about to do coming down, the idea that anything and everything that happened in the next four months wouldn't include me. That my friends and family would continue living their lives, and I would not get to laugh with, go out with, hug, kiss, share with any familiar thing for such a long time. And then the worst relaization: that my being gone was not going to put life on hold, that bad things were still capable of happening. That one of my most loved family members was having a surgery, that I would not be able to visit if I wanted, that illness does not wait for convenient times. All of this and more, swarmed through my body and head as I tried to stay composed getting onto the plane...this is what I remeber.

And then there was the flight - each small event feels so much bigger in my mind, and the smallest details still stick out more than 2 months later. I put my bag above, pulling out the book of Chilean Slang, a spanish translator and my book A Thousand Miles in a Million Years. The plane was huge, and my bag barely fit. Still shaking, I tried forcing it above me, attempting and failing to look like a seasoned traveler. A group of grad students got on, loud and cliquey. A man from barcelona sat behind me. One of the grad students sat next to me, and as we said hello and discussed our reasons for travel we bagan what would end up being a friendship through one of the biggest events in my life. Over the next 8 hours, we talked about everything. He was from somewhere in New England, Jersey I think and I couldn't shake how he looked like a boxer - and so much like an old friend of mine. He was cocky, loud, and sarcastic. We got along great and it took my nerves off of the trip completely, he was a good confidence booster and his comments made me believe I was actually ready. We disagreed on almost everything, but it is shocking how much you can get to know a person if you really talk with them for a few hours. We ate gross airplane food, and talked more - about factory farms, grad school, northern accents, how much I like to talk, God and religion...everything. For as much as this plane ride affected me, I don't remember much of the actual point that we turned around. It was dark and we had had some horrible turbulence, there was lightning and sideways rain and I remember that being my biggest worry. Exhausted, I fell back asleep and was woken up when I bumped my head against the window. Some people were mumbling and I looked at the huge map showing out direction and I tried to adjust my sight when I saw that we were going back over Costa Rica, but in the other direction. I was sure it was broken. I shook him awake and maybe five minutes later the pilot came on and announced "Chile has experience an earthquake and we have lost communications with the Santiago airport, we are flying back to Miami until we know more." It's funny becase I really didnt freak out - I didn't feel much of anything. It's almost like I expected something to happen, that the insane amount of work and research I had put into getting to Chile, how perfect my host family had seemed, how easy my goodbyes were - they all added up to something funny, like there was no way I could make a smooth entry becasue it was all lining up too perfectly. But when I say that a 8.0 earthquake was the last thing in the entire world I expected to disrupt the process, I am serious. I'm pretty sure the most common reaction was laughter. Just short, abrupt laughter. It wasn't possible. The map had to be broken. We weren't actually taking a 12 hour flight back to where we started...

By the time we had landed we had heard news of the damage, that it had hit concepcion and aftershocks were coming. The airport felt like another world coming from the shocked silence of the plane - the hours after the news were monotone. Everywhere, TVs blared the news of the quake, the rising death toll, comparisons to Haiti, images of houses that were pancaked, warning for resulting Tsunamis...

When peple ask if I was angry or upset, if I cried... I try to explain that I didn't cry becasue it wasn't possible to cry. As I stood there with my brand new carry-on and Chilean Student Visa, I was watching images roll across the screen next to people I had just been sitting on a plane with, but the difference is that what I was watching was just a country I had created in my mind. It was their reality, their houses, their families. I met a couple who I had passed several times during the flight, I remember them being so perfect looking sleeping together under the tissue thin airline blanket. We were trying to figure out our ticket situation and had been in line for almost an hour when I began talking with them. They were Chilean, from Santiago, but were studying in Maryland. They were dating and were flying back home to go to her little sisters funeral. I found this out from the boyfriend, as I watched the girl sit against the wall, crying so hard, speaking Spanish so fast I couldn't grasp what was wrong. I assumed it was the funeral, but I was wrong. She came over to us and told her boyfriend that both of their houses had been destroyed, flattened. Her moms had been too and they were trying to contact family to make sure everyone as OK. Thats all she said. And then they hugged - no more tears, just holding eachother and with a deep breath they turned to me ....and asked if they could do anything to help me. I almost collapsed. I felt insulted, disgusted, overjoyed, baffled - that these people could have just found out the most terrible news, and still want to help out an American girl that was just getting ready to study abroad. I still get chills when I think about it. I think that's when I fell in love with the people of Chile despite never having stepped onto its soil.

Anyways, what started as a long trip got even longer - I stood in line and met people with similar stories, and it was not possible to feel bad for myself. I couldn't cry becasue in comparison I ha nothing to cry about. I felt lucky.

The rest of the trip through the airports still sticks in my mind, but I feel like that will fade...it was full of trials, experiences that will prove to help me with future travels, and an amazing amount of helpful people. I remember feeling overwhelmed by the amount of good I had seen in people through the journey back home. So many plans were made, changed, cancelled in such a short amount of time. I was given a choice between studing in Costa Rica or Argentina, the Chilean program was off. I just remember laughing, considering flipping a coin to make the same decision that I had put so much work into the first time. I settled on Costa Rica, I'm not sure why. Maybe becasue it was further away from the earthquake, or that it was the first country my program director had told me. I got on another plane somewhere along the line to go home after finding out my bags had been sent to KY and I wouldn't be able to go to Costa Rica until I had them, but had to get off after mechanic issues proved to be too difficult to fix. I complained, finally broke down, and just wandered around the Atlanta airport. When I was finally on my way to KY, I wasn;t sure if I'd be able to say goodbye again. The fragility of life, the unexpectadness and reminder of how fast things can change had shaken me up a bit. But then there were the more powerful waves of confidence, of knowing that I had to go somewhere after how long I had prepared. When I got off the plane and walked to the baggage claim of Lexington almost exacty 24 hours later and saw my mom in almost the same place I think it hit me. Not in an overwhelming, lay on the floor and cry way (I had already had that in Atlanta) but in a matter-of-fact-get-on-with-your-life-way. I was lucky. I was back home, safe, and was still looking at options for a semester abroad. The people I had met were just beginning a horrible journey of rebuilding and reorganizing their lives as I was hugging my mom.

My bags were still lost - turns out they had never left Atlanta and the mean attendant who had casued my break down was simply "mistaken." But lost bags weren't a problem, it was almost laughable actually. It turns out the series of events I went through leading up to this mistake ended up helping me out. We spent a couple more hours at the counter trying to talk with my program, figure out where in the world I was going, and for me - trying not to pass out. I was exhausted. Leslie, the woman helping me with my program whom I had already spoken with through the past couple months could not stop praising how well I was taking the situation. I wanted to explain to her everything that had happened, tell her why I was still able to laugh and that she could just choose my country for me becasue I had no more brain power left, but I just said thanks and praised her for her life saving calm and organization. So I changed my mind and picked Argentina. Not sure why, just an accumulation of little things, its proximity to Chile, and lack of sleep. I didn't know anything about either place, so the decision was not terribly difficult. Other than that it left the next day - I wasn't sure if I was ready to do it all over agian, and home was looking safer and more comfortable every minute.

Time at home flew. Besides the massive sense of deja vu, I went shopping, visited some worried friends and laughed at the situation becasue that's all we could really do. And I slept - probobaly some of the best sleep in my life. I said hey to my sister and my dog, and another friend came over just in time to see me re-packing my freshly delivered bags.

Then it was back to the airport. I said bye, but it was different this time. Still a big hug, but it was bittersweet. It was easier because we had already done it, but part of me thought it was harder, becasue I couldn't accept this time I'd actually be gone so long. I felt like I would be back the next day, like my Chilean trip had ended up. I wasn't shaking or nervous, and this time I did look like a seasoned traveler. I didn't have any nerves, and had a comfortable flight back to Atlanta. The layover was hard, every TV spoke about the earthquake and the 300+ person death tole, and the Hawiian Tsunami scare. I laughed when I realized my plane to Buenos Aires was leaving from the same gate as my Santiago flight. Go figure. As first class boarded, the backpacker-esqu man next to me leaned in and whispered "must be nice!" I shook my head in agreement, chuckling but really just hoping for a window seat. I began boarding and when the attendant looked at my ticket she signaled for me to seperate from the line and turn left....to first class. I corrected her, and told her I did not pay for it. She shrugged and said "well, that's your seat!" I was PUMPED.

So there is a happy ending, in fact - there is not an ending...I'm still on this rollercoaster of a journey and I couldn't be happier with it. Of course, there is nothing good or happy about the earthquake and I still want to find a way to help out...but the amount of growth that happened in that short window of time is one of the biggest things that has ever happened to me. I was reminded how strong people are, and got reminder after reminder that people as a whole are good. I learned language barriers can be dissolved when you really try and that one little thing can either ruin your day or just cause a ripple. But more than anything, I learned that things always work out.

I got first class becasue of the bag incident and the mean man who casued my break down. I met some amazing people that I have kept in touch with and who I know I will cross paths with again someday. Ilearned that sometimes not knowing is half the fun, and that mourning what could have been only makes you miss out on what is. I ended up in a beautiful city with even more beautiful people who I can now call my friends. I have traveled, tasted awesome food, and learned a bit more Spanish. I have a polo lesson this week, and am going back out to Pilar to visit my barrel racing friend. I am lucky. Blessed. All of the above.

So that's about the whole story of those couple days. People ask me a lot if I am happy here, if I wonder how life would be different if it had not happened. But I can't answer that, becasue I do not know. I am more than happy here and I do not think of what could have been becasue if I do, I will miss out on what is happening here and now. I will make it to Chile eventually, and I can't wait to make memories there - to see the place I know so much about and maybe exercise some of the unused travelbook knowlege I accumulated before those days. But that's for another post. For now, I am going to keep living and loving Argentina while I still have time to and take comfort in the fact that things DO happen for a reason.

That's all for now....Besos!