Hi there, I hope everyone's enjoying the beginning of summer back in the northern hemisphere. Right now down here it's cold, dank, dark, foggy, and drizzly- basically just the kind of weather dementors like to breed in, which means it's time for Claire to eat chocolate. I recommend that you eat some too, and that if you don't understand dementor breeding you get your hands on the Harry Potter series and start reading ASAP.
This morning, despite the rainy and foggy weather, Beth and I struck out to Plaza de Mayo with the intention of buying plane tickets for our trip to Ushuaia (Tierra del Fuego!!!!!) next month. When we got to the Aerolinea Argentina desk, however, we realized that we had never checked ticket prices directly through the airline, and had only looked at the prices on a Kayak/Expedia-type website, and thought we would be able to get the same deal through Aerolineas. Without making it an even longer story, we were basically trying to ensure that we get the discount on airline tickets that comes with being a legal Argentine resident (thank you, student visa). The prices at the desk were about $200 American more (yeah, no.), so we abandoned that endeavor (buying tickets on the website later) and went to get a coffee on the way to class.
On the subway ride from the coffee shop, which in this case was the cafe counter at McDonald's (it's actually really classy here, I promise) a few seats opened up as people got off of the train, and I found myself sitting next to an elderly Argentine woman who was chatting very animatedly with her friend across the aisle. After her friend got off, Beth and I were talking about how many stops away the university was, and the lady next to me said something in what I thought could've been English, but I couldn't tell, so my natural reaction was to say "Cómo?". She told me in Spanish how many more stops there were and which side we would be disembarking on, and she was so sweet that I wasn't even tempted to try to tell her how many times I had ridden the route and how long I had lived here and that I knew the area. (Yes, Claire needs to learn to swallow her pride. I'm not sure why I keep referring to myself in third person- oh well, it's fun.) She asked me where I was from, and when I said the United States, she said in Spanish, "Yeah, I can tell by your accent- I mean what area?" (blast, I have an accent.) and so I told her Texas, the coast, and my home town. I was very surprised to see her give a knowing nod and say that she'd visited my home town.
She asked what university I attend, and I told her Texas A&M. I was even more shocked when she responded to that statement with the Spanish equivalent of "Aha, yup, College Station, huh?" and a very fond, sort of reminiscent smile. I told her what year I was and what I study, and unfortunately I couldn't catch all of what she said because the train was loud and her voice was soft, but she told me that she knows Bryan and College Station very well, knows professors at A&M, and lived in Bryan for a number of years with her husband, who I think she said was a professor of some kind. She had to have been at least 75 years old, and I imagine she lived in Bryan at least 40 years ago. She went on to ask about how Bonfire is done these days and tell me how she had seen the news about the accident in 1999, and how insane the tradition was when she was there and how she couldn't imagine the university without it. She said they used to throw things like desks into it, and old homework assignments. She told me she guessed it's probably very different there now- when she was there they didn't allow many women to enroll. "Fueron muy Aggies," she said. I was too surprised to remember to ask her when and why they had lived in Texas or even what her name was, and by the time the conversation had reached that point, it was time for us to leave the train.
The whole encounter was so completely out of the blue and truly one of the more unique and special moments I've had here, I guess simply because the things Aggies know between each other can't really be explained to anyone who doesn't understand them, and she knew. I wish I had had my Aggie ring on- since we've heard a few reports about increasing crime in the city I haven't been wearing it in public much- a large gold ring is a fairly obvious target. I'm not sure what difference my ring would have made, I think just that since she understood being an Aggie she would've known how important it was. Most of you reading this post probably think all of this is rather silly, but for me it's one of those tiny little amazing experiences I'll never forget. I couldn't really think of the right words or a way to say thank you as we left, so I gave her a kiss on the cheek and said "Gracias, nos vemos". In a city this size it's almost certain that I'll never see her again, and among all the faces everywhere I probably wouldn't recognize her if I did, but I had been feeling homesick the few days previous, and I think meeting her was a hint that someone somewhere knew I needed a breath of fresh air. She was a wonderful thing that met a need in me I couldn't identify and didn't know how to meet for myself. The Twelfth Man doesn't lie when it sings "The Spirit of Aggieland".
