I did not vote, but I will share what it was like to leave and come back. When I left, I was miserable. It had been what felt like an eternity of low-paying en negro jobs, crappy apartments, scary health problems and no porteño friends--friends, not acquaintances--to call my own. I met great expat friends and the guy who is now my husband, but I thought, you know what? Life is too short for me to live in a place I dislike more with each passing day. I felt like I had failed somehow, but I knew leaving was the best decision. It took me a long time to get over the crushing disappointment. It was youthful naïveté, but when I moved to Buenos Aires, I did it thinking I'd spend the rest of my life there.
I went abroad for grad school. For a project, I interviewed Colombians who were leaving Spain and going back home due to the economy. They felt like failures, too, even though none of it was their fault. Huh, I thought. I got word that the end of my program had been moved from Mexico to Argentina. I was pissed. I had no desire to go back to Buenos Aires, but after a round of beheadings in Guadalajara, the director was having none of it. I was happily living abroad again, in a place where people smiled despite an economy plunging further and further into the crapper. I decided I'd pass on the abroad option and finish at the New England campus.
But more time passed, and I started thinking. Maybe it was my attitude. Maybe I was just young and immature. Maybe things would be different this time around. I'm happy and healthy and I'll have the dólar blue, even. I'll be studying, not working. The school arranges housing so I don't have to worry about some horrible landlord. And I do miss some things about the place, I guess, plus I can see my friends. I'm gonna do it! So I did.
The first week was honeymoon phase version 2.0. Oh, look at how everyone honks and yells at each other during hora pico on 9 de julio! La concha de su madre, aw, gotta love those passionate porteños! Look, my favorite verdulería! This incredible architecture, my God did I miss it. Wow, forgot how good an asado can be. Damn, the view from this nice building where a friend of a friend lives sure is incredible! Nothing like a BA view. I missed living in a place where you can go out to eat on a Sunday at 11 p.m. and the restaurant will be packed!
Then reality set in. The kids at UADE were rude and generally mannerless. The copy center there took forever to do anything and we got our materials a week late. The supposedly modern facilities frequently failed us and my professors had to cut a lot of material due to lost time, which was a bummer. I quickly grew weary of how expensive everything had gotten and how the quality of so many things had gotten even worse. The smoking, my God, the smoking. It was the dead of winter and my all-electric building suffered three blackouts, each one lasting more than 12 hours. I took some friends out to Niceto Vega one night, and paid 40-something pesos for a weak fernet and coke in a dirty glass with one ice cube. I can't remember now if it was Tiki or Carnal. "Esto es lo que pago en Nueva York," said a friend from Brooklyn. Our presence was so offensive that one group of porteños kept shooting us dirty looks and purposefully bumping into us and smirking every time they got up to walk to the bar, even though there was plenty of space to pass. "Estamos haciendo algo mal?" asked another friend. "No," I said, breaking our no-English rule, "They're just assholes." This was the night when I knew that leaving had 100% been the right choice for me.
I was determined to keep a good attitude throughout the experience, and I did. But in instances like the ones mentioned above (and there were many more), I was reminded of why I made my original decision to leave. More than the government, more than the economy, more than inflation, more than increasing crime, my number one complaint with Buenos Aires has always been the people. I got closure from my experience, and I'm glad I did it. I delighted in the company of my wonderful porteño professors, all re phD, and had wonderful discussions with them about Buenos Aires and Argentina. It was better than therapy. I now look back on my time in Buenos Aires and smile, and I plan to make trips back when it's possible. I can appreciate the good parts of the city, and there are many. My husband has a DNI and we could go back to live if we really wanted to, but we don't. He's choosing to let it expire.
Nostalgia will still set in from time to time. We went to see "Corazón de León" in the theater and spent the rest of the night reminiscing about our time in BA, for example. It's where we met and spent the first year and a half of our relationship, so it will always be special to us. And special to me, for a million other reasons. But if I were to give any advice to someone who is genuinely unhappy and BA in thinking about leaving, it would be this: Just do it. It doesn't automatically mean you're a failure, or that you can't adapt, or that something is wrong with you. It could well mean that BA is just not a good cultural fit for you, or you're tired of living paycheck to paycheck (or wad of pesos to wad of pesos), or you want to be close to your family, and that's okay. Life is short, and the world is a big place. You can always go back. I did.