I heard my familiar nickname calling me from the international arrivals section of the Santiago airport.

“Dani Louuu!”

I quickly saw my parents and I ran to embrace them. After five and a half months in South America, seeing familiar faces made me choke up a bit with emotion.

After clearing my throat and getting into a taxicab to take us to a hotel, I quickly shifted into my role of translator for the rest of the week. I told the taxi driver the directions for the hotel and negotiated a price. My parents — who speak no Spanish — were amazed.

I was amazed at their amazement. Speaking Spanish and navigating Santiago has become my life since I arrived in mid-July. Daily things, like navigating the metro, holding conversations in Spanish and learning about this city and its 7 million residents, became impressive feats to my parents.

Little things, like the street dogs roaming around or the Alpaca-fur scarves in the tourist shops, were quirky oddities to them. They could walk around the hotel’s neighborhood and be fascinated by everything — the church next door, the KFC around the block, the mini market on the corner — whereas for me, this is another normal day in Santiago.

This week was a weird role reversal of power in a way. When I was the kid, they chose what I ate. They had conversations with strangers that I didn’t understand. Now, I was the one reminding them to guard their backpacks against pickpockets on the metro.

My parents were proud that I knew the city so well and that I could navigate the city with my language skills. This felt obvious to me. I’m not sure why they were so impressed, but I appreciate their pride like always.

Ordering food at restaurants became little adventures with my parents. On the first day, my dad tried speaking English to the servers. This worked, more or less, with our entrees. When the server came to see if we wanted any more drinks, my dad responded, “Yeah.” The server gave him a weird look. Ten minutes later with no drinks, I realized she thought he said “Ya,” which would have meant “Enough” or “No more” in Spanish.

I’d translate the menu for them, but sometimes I’d just order what I think they’d like. I’d then converse with the server while my parents curiously tried to understand what we were saying.

At first, my parents weren’t used to following my “parenting.” During the first days of the trip, my dad would speak English with the servers. But after mixing up “mucho gusto” and “me gusta mucho” a few too many times, he realized he should relax and let me take the reins.

It was fun leading around my parents, even though I had the added responsibility. Being the tour guide and translator for them made me realize how much I’ve learned since I started my study abroad experience. For starters, I can use a map.

When we went to the seaside port city of Valparaíso, they were content with hanging out in the touristy shops of the port. But because I already knew the city, I took them through the twisted, winding streets to show them the colorful art lining the roads. We went up stairs, down stairs and through little side streets to make our way around the hilly city.

My parents doubted that I knew where I was. It was when we arrived at the beautiful views of the Pacific Ocean and the city that they realized that I knew the directions all along.

It felt strange to lead around the role models that I normally follow, but doing so made me realize that maybe I know Chile better than I had thought.

Danielle Roth is a junior majoring in magazine journalism and international relations. She is following her desires for good food and adventure in Santiago, Chile. Email her at dlroth@syr.edu or tweet at her @danielleroth_.

Published on November 4, 2014 at 12:01 am