La lluvia dice historias de... mi lugar de origen.
It's been 34 days since I arrived in Argentina, and today, in the midst of preparing for Mid-Term exams this week, was the first day that reminded me of home.
It was quite a site to take the bus today, jam packed as always, people sliding back and forth as the bus quickly breaks and gasses again, but today the stinch of soaked cotton and wool clouded the air.
You can tell that a people is not raised in a land of falling cats and dogs (rain) when a zippered sports jacket of nylon suffices for a rain coat, and you have to hold off on doing the laundry until the sun finds its shine just so you can utilize the full potential of a clothe line. Yes... my bedroom smells like a gym locker room, but I still feel blessed.
I am the 1 out of 24 American Students that I know of that has access to a laundry machine in his/her own house,
and the rain with its' harmony beating softly on the window does not bring anxiety, but rather it reminds me of home.
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