In two hours, I'll be at the airport. It's hard to believe that my trip is finally over. I'm waiting at the Santiago train station, where I had the good fortune to kick of my trip with a free and unpublicized Shakira concert almost four and a half months ago. It's nice to end my trip in a place where I have good memories.

    My brain is fried and my body is falling apart. I've had an amazing trip, but it's time to come home. Last night was the last straw for my poor, beleagured body. I spent three hours sitting under a leak in the roof of the bus. Since the bus was full, there was no place to go. It was miserable and now my cold has progressed from bad to horrible. The border crossing between Argentina and Chile was almost as exhausting as the bus ride itself. First we had to fill out customs forms. They weren't complicated, so I was surprised to see that many passengers looked confused and intimidated. Finally and old woman walked toward me and asked for my help, shyly explaining that she couldn't read. I was dumbstruck. I can't imagine not knowing how to read. I've devoted my life to books. I don't know what I would do without them. I would have liked to help the old woman and her friends, but my mouth froze shut. It was stupid, but I just didn't know what to say. Finally, I said that I was American and that it would probably be best to seek help from a native Spanish speaker. After we finished filling out the forms, we stepped into the customs office. The border guards were the swaggering, intimidating type of police I had expected to find all over South America. They were ruthless in their baggage searches. Every passenger stood against the wall and the officers spread out the luggage in front of them. When they saw a bag they wanted to inspected, they shouted until the owner came forward. Even though they had an X-ray machine, they declined to use it. I was among the lucky to make it through without a search.

    I spent the last 5 days of my trip in Buenos Aires, a city that continually made me think I was in Paris or New York. Good cafes, good shopping, amazing dancing -- the perfect place for a tired backpacker to end her trip. Watching tango was my favorite thing to do in Buenos Aires. There are endless performances on the tourist streets. Clearly, the dancers were hoping to make money, but they radiated joy with every step. If they were only concerned with profit, they hid it well. Their joy in their work was contagious. It was impossible to watch them dance without feeling happy. I was also struck by the women's pride in their bodies. They shook their big hips and thighs proudly to the announcer's -- and the audience's -- shouts of "what legs!" I wish American women had a body image this realistic and positive.

    My time in Buenos Aires was also notable for the worst linguistic mistake of my trip. Each time I arrive in a new city in South America, I ask if it's safe to catch taxis on the streets. In Argentina, my enquiry was met with titters or a brief scandalized look. I told myself that at the end of my trip, I must be growing self-conscious and ignored the strange responses. It turns out that in Argentina, the word "catch" means "fuck." Since I had also confused the word for taxi and taxi driver, I was actually asking "is it safe to fuck taxi drivers in the street or should I call one to come to the hotel?" I'm sure that most people realized what I meant, but no wonder I got such strange looks -- especially from hotel owners!

    I've lost track of all the things I'm looking forward to when I go home. I want to watch my DVDs and listen to my music. I want to flush toilet paper down the toilet instead of throwing it into a basket. I'll be thankful to be in a place where every sandwich doesn't come with two inches of mayonaisse and finding hair in my food is a rarity. I am, however, going to miss speaking Spanish. I hadn't anticipated how gratifying it would be to really learn a language. I'm still a long way from fluent, but I can hold down my end of a conversation. I know that mastery is going to disappear as soon as I go home.

    Tired as I am, I'm already contemplating my next trip. I think it will have to be Asia.

~Meredith