Lovely Anticipation

There's something beautiful about knowing that you're well on your way to a new adventure.  It became real (again!) two hours ago, when I registered for classes for next semester. Seeing it gave me goosebumps: Location: Ecuador, Quad A. Considering that all fifteen or so of my classes have been on the main campus (and, therefore, firmly on US soil), it's a thrilling prospect.

Do you know how far CEDEI (the school we're studying at) is from my house? 3,149 miles, as the crow flies. That's over twice the distance I've ever been from home. (I'm beginning to sound like Samwise Gamgee here.)

  I'm going to be thoroughly immersed in the culture, living with a host family and speaking only Spanish. I'll be far away from my church family, attending a small Protestant church where I hope my American-ness won't be held against me. I'll be gypped in the markets in the zocalo. I'll be identified immediately as a gringo by my weird Chicago accent. I'll be jounced and jolted on a two-day bus trip through the Andes to a point 3931 miles from home. I'll take lots of pictures and try not to be too obvious about it. 

And it will be wonderful. I'll come back with a hint of an Ecuadorian accent, with wonderful tales of seeing the Lost City of the Incas. I'll come back with a pair of simple earrings, which will quickly become my favorite pair, made there by a delightful old lady who can't see as well as she used to when her children were small. I'll say that Mamá said this or Papá said that or my brother did this or my sister did that, and none of you will understand why I forget to clarify that I mean my host family. 

I'll have a better idea of who I am when I get back. I'll know more about syncretistic religion than I ever wanted to know. I'll have a bigger burden for those people, the ones so engulfed in a mixture of Catholicism and native religions that the truth is unknown. I'll know them personally.

And I'll never be the same. It's a sobering thought.