So, Buenos Aires, I’ve been here for seven months. What’s it like?

For one, it’s no longer strange to speak Spanish all day. I used to wake up each morning and dread the mental punishment of translating my thoughts into another language. Now, it’s no big thing. In fact, my inner monologue sometimes slips into Spanish. That’s a little surreal. On that note, I sometimes will wake up with a clear memory of an amazing or bizarre dream, but with no idea whatsoever which language it was in. In fact, you (my friends and family) are all perfectly bilingual when you show up in my dreams. Congratulations!

Language is not the only thing that’s become more comfortable. Many things that seemed so strange at first have become my new normal: two-hour commutes on the train, getting very little sleep, watching my back. I’ve also gotten to know most of the people in the four blocks between my house and church, and it’s not uncommon to hear my name (“Cristian!”) shouted from the bakery, the laundry detergent store, the fruit stand, or any of the various second-floor apartment windows. It always reminds me of the song “These are the people in your neighborhood” from Sesame Street, which I sometimes whistle as I walk down my street.

Finally, I’ve lost count of how long I’ve been here (last night I counted nearly seven months), but not of how long I’ve got left (exactly fifteen weeks from today). And I know that remaining time is going to fly. Months disappear by in the blink of an eye, and as I become more aware of just how little time I’ve got left here, I’m trying to squeeze all of the juice I can out of each day. I’ve learned many things here in Argentina, but probably the most profound has been the importance of living every moment to its fullest. And that is certainly something that I plan to bring home with me—exactly fifteen weeks from today.