Let's be honest, Argentina wasn't exactly on my "dream countries" bingo card. Sure, I knew the basics – Maradona, Messi, and of course, my beloved Boca Juniors (die-hard fan since sippy cups). But moving there? Never crossed my mind. Until, that is, I became an expert eavesdropper.
My mom was hatching a plan with my dad: ship me off to college in the US. "Sounds good," I mumbled, picturing myself dodging overprotective Haitian relatives like a rogue dodgeball. Turns out, aunts and uncles have a sixth sense for keeping tabs on wayward youngsters (especially with a history of questionable decisions – thanks, teenage me!).
Then came the eavesdropping goldmine. Argentina? Free education? (Googles frantically, calculator app pops up – nope, still free). Awesome, laid-back people? Sold! New language, new culture, new chance to avoid familial hawk eyes – this was the adventure I craved.
Fast-forward from eavesdropping to touchdown in Buenos Aires – all within a month. Crazy? Absolutely. But hey, that's how I roll. Years later, I'm still figuring out Argentina – turns out, a country isn't like a cheat sheet you cram the night before. But between mastering the art of the perfect mate pour and navigating the daily tango of "mañana" (it'll get done... eventually), I wouldn't trade this experience for all the overprotective uncles in the world. Plus, free education is a pretty sweet perk.
So yeah, Argentina might not have been on the original plan, but it turned out to be the best kind of crazy. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a lecture on the history of the dulce de leche to get to (and maybe a nap – mañana, of course).