To pack, or not to pack? That is the question I’ve been asking myself this week as my Argentina departure date draws nearer and the need to have my life neatly packed into two small suitcases becomes unavoidable. But even as I run errands and make progress with tasks like deciding how many pairs of my beloved skinny jeans I can afford to leave behind, or picking out shoes that will serve me well in clubs and cathedrals, I feel unprepared. I mean don’t get me wrong, I speak great Spanish, and I’m beyond excited to start my six months of living, studying, and exploring in Buenos Aires, Argentina, but there’s no denying that this Bay girl has definitely got some butterflies in her belly.

Everyone, from the authors of Lonely Planet guidebooks to close family and friends assure me that its only a matter of time before Buenos Aires steals my heart, and I become obsessed with the country’s favorite pastimes—red meat, clubbing and tango. Despite my willingness to embrace such predictions, I can’t help but wonder how I, a Berkeley girl, bred on tofu and hikes in Tilden park, will feel next week when I dive headfirst into unfamiliar surroundings and have no one’s hand to hold but my own. Say I find myself on the traffic clogged Avenida Pueyrredon trying to figure out how to hail a taxi. Will any of my cute shoes that I gave so much consideration to even help me out? I doubt it. I suspect that as I attempt to participate in classroom discussions about Argentina’s devastating and complicated history of dictatorships and human rights violations, the things that will help me most won’t be things I can pull out of my suitcase. I’ll have to hit the ground running, so I guess it doesn’t really matter what I pack as long as my shoes are comfy and my pants are loose enough to accommodate six months of beef at every meal.

As a history major with an interest in studying resistance movements, I jumped at the opportunity to spend a semester of my junior year in Argentina; how could I not have an awesome time in a country characterized by everything from colonialism, to economic crises, and the successes of female leaders amidst a culture of machismo? I imagine my downtime hours will be just as fulfilling as my class time hours, because I’ve already resolved to learn the tango, cook with my host mom Garciela and converse with portenos (Buenos Aires locales) late into the night about which clubs are the most poppin. Even though the academic school year in southern hemisphere colleges doesn’t start until march 2nd, I’m betting that my learning curve will be put to the test this Monday from the moment I step off my United Airlines 747 plane. Instead of walking through brisk winter air to catch BART, I’ll be hustling around in ninety degree heat as I quickly learn the ins and outs of a city populated by 3,050,728 people who likely roll their r’s with ease and don’t blink twice at menu’s that don’t pay heed to vegetarian desires.

Really, I just need to chill. I should just take a deep breath, and enjoy my last few days at home because there is no way I can fully prepare myself for what’s to come… and isn’t that part of the point? Who knows, maybe by the time late July rolls around and I am repacking my two suitcases, I’ll be an international girl who gets butterflies in her belly at the thought of revealing her newfound love of steak to her soy praising parents. Until then, I’ll be walking the line of confusion and enchantment, and blogging it about it all as I go. ¡Hasta pronto!