Una Semana Más

on
Chao sala 3-14.
I've probably said those words about a hundred times recently. My conversations usually go like this:


¿Cuanto tiempo acá en Chile? (How long have you been here in Chile?)

 Sobre cuatro meses, soy una estudiante intercambio. (About four months, I'm an exchange student.)

 Ahhh, tan poco tiempo. ¿Cuando sales? (Ah, so little time. When do you leave?)

 Una semana más. (One more week.)
Even when I had more like a week and a half, a week and three days, two full weeks left, it still brought me so much joy to utter those three words: una semana más. I've loved Chile. I've loved her people, her culture, her language, her beautiful, inexplicable landscapes, the incredible food. I've danced under the moon on the beach. I've walked, ran, skipped, down the streets, singing and dancing with friends. I've hiked one of the driest places on earth, while calling the moderately tempered central Chile my home. I've been welcomed into my host family's home, made to feel like another daughter or a sister. When I enter the homes of my friends, their family's have welcomed me and embraced me as well. But I've also longed for my home, for my own family, my food, my bed, conversations with people who speak my language. Many of my friends have felt the same way. We all feel blessed to have wound up in Chile together. My friend and I had a conversation on the bus over the weekend about how our choices had led us all to the same place and time, which then led us on all of these wonderful adventures we'd had, and if we'd made even one choice differently, everything would have changed. But as thankful as we are, that hasn't stopped us from looking forward to going home. I personally have counted down the days with my parents for the last two weeks, each day that passed, a little bit more excitement in our voices.

 But as my real semana ultima approaches, I feel oddly nostalgic and quite sad. 

My classes ended last Thursday. My class calendars all stated that there would be a class on Tuesday, a quick wrap-up class to discuss final grades and hand back any work, but to my surprise, all of my professors said their goodbyes on Thursday and decided not to have class on Tuesday. All of a sudden, my entire routine for the semester was finished, no more walking to the train to ride into Valparaiso, no more sharing pieces of homemade QueQue in the cafe with my friends, no more fretting over grammar homework in the study areas and planning our weekend adventures; we're finished. With this, my friends have started to leave. Some of them left Saturday, others are staying one more week, others didn't even come for the last day of class. All of this has brought about a mix of feelings as well. Yes, no more exams, no more papers, no more readings, but also, these people I've become so close to, people who live hundreds or thousands of miles away from Tennessee, are gone too.



My sweet friend Megan and I have decided we're going to have a weekend trip once a year, while my group of friends has decided we're going to have a biannual hiking trip. But it doesn't help the fact that right now, I still have to say goodbye to them, they're leaving, the rest of the exchange students are leaving, I'm leaving.

I'm leaving.

The seasons have changed in Chile and so have I.

I never expected that my last week would be a sad one but Chile has become my normal, my home.

It's never easy to leave home.