UNC Undergraduate Admissions : Tar Heels Talk : Mary

What I did this summer

Experiencing new and fascinating aspects of Argentine life became my addiction. The anxiety that I had previously felt before my first day at the refugio grew into an adventuresome spirit, and eventually a deep appreciation for Argentina.

I sat in the back of the bus and felt myself grow more anxious with each stop closer to my destination. The steady flow of porteños, inhabitants of Buenos Aires , in and out of the bus at each corner proved to be my only distraction as I thought of the day ahead.

I had decided to work at a domestic abuse shelter in the hope that I could learn and explore an area of social service I knew little about; I now wondered if that hope was too ambitious and my inexperience would be disastrous.

Approaching the looming concrete walls that isolated the shelter from the neighborhood, I rang the bell and watched a probing pair of eyes glare out at me from a small opening in the metal gate doors. I entered the complex, realized how much I would have to do to gain the trust and affection of all the mothers and children in the shelter and felt my stomach knot with nervous anticipation.

Ana, the directora of the shelter, led me into the Spartan kitchen where all of the mothers and children were just finishing breakfast. She provided a brief introduction then turned to me smiling and said, “Well, you can begin.” With that, she was gone. I found myself surrounded by a sea of unfamiliar faces speaking a not-so-familiar tongue. Before I had a chance to plan my next move, a group of women approached me and invited me to sit down with them. I was astounded by the warmth and interest they expressed as they asked me about myself and talked about life in the shelter. One woman remarked with a wistful look how fortunate I was to be young and have my life ahead of me, and then quickly followed her statement with a stern, “Just don’t have a man in your life who hits you.” She paused just a moment before smiling, patting my hand and steering the conversation another direction.

After that first day of introductions, work at the refugio improved with each visit as I got to know all of the mothers and children and was able to identify more specific needs. I learned to use the one- hour bus ride to the shelter each morning as planning time to brainstorm new activities and games to teach the children. I felt more welcome in the shelter than in any other place in the city. Each time the guard let Paula and me into the grounds, thirty children would run at us screaming “Maria!! Paula!!” begging for hugs and kisses.

The work was exhausting… maintaining order in a large group of children is difficult enough, but trying to do so in castellano is almost impossible. I have never encountered children so quick to misbehave yet so needy for love and attention (this shared trait is no doubt a result of their family situations prior to arriving in the refugio).

Paula and I quickly learned that art projects were very popular among the kids and began to utilize this technique to keep order. I often found myself sharing looks of excitement and despair with Paula as children would pull at my arms asking for help while I chased around toddlers attempting to eat crayons.

My experience at the shelter is characteristic of nearly all of my experiences in Argentina. I entered new situations with a hint of anxiety and was continually surprised by the warmth and interest of the Argentine people I met. Weekly seminars at the University of Buenos Aires warned me of the great economic crisis and the anti-Bush sentiments in the country. Despite the fact that I could sense these sentiments amongst the people, I was overwhelmed by the determination of the porteños to continue to enjoy their lives and not become pessimistic.

As much as I loved the city, many of my best moments of the summer came from weekend trips to different regions of the country. I was stunned at Iguazú Falls to see waterfalls seven times the size of Niagara. In Mendoza , I found myself surrounded by the breathtaking Andes Mountains. During a trip to Patagonia, I stepped out of the hostel one night to behold a sky with stars so dense and bright that I felt I only had to stand on my tiptoes to reach them.

On my last bus ride to the refugio, my stomach was once again in knots, but this time with the anxiety of knowing that I would have to say goodbye. When hugging all of the children I had come to love, instead of saying “adios,” I chose to say “nos vemos,” which roughly translates to “see you soon.” My hope is that in the near future I will have the chance to fulfill that promise.