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A guampa with a bombillo will find the one sidewalk cart in a city of two million that sells Venezuelan “pepitos.” Their comfort food is not cornbread, it is “Chipa Guazu.” It isn't Taco Bell or Old El Paso; it is a hot “papusa” by Aunt “Tia” Carmen. They don't want a cup of tea; they want to drink “mate” with their friends from a “guampa” with a “bombillo.” They don't want coffee; they want “café con leche.” They want to figure out a way to hang a hammock in their dorm room since they were told they couldn't hang it outside next to the fountain, even though the trees are perfect there. Perhaps you read this and haven't a clue as to what those foreign words mean; that's OK. The MKs understand and upon reading this they will set out on a quest to find the perfect “____________.” The problem is not that they are of one culture or the other. It is that they are of both, and it isn't really a problem either as this MK explains: Friends, especially roommates at some point or another, have said things to me like “you're funny.” To this, I always respond, “Thank you!”  I've learned that  it is always good to get  people to laugh, even if they are laughing AT me. For years I  excused my differences  from the Argentines, on being American. It wasn't until  I came to  the  United States to  college that I realized  I wasn't American either! So what can I blame for not being American? Being Argentine! I realized the other Latins understood my plight and even related better with me when they saw me as Argentine. God provided the group I needed. For example, students from other countries tease me about the Argentine accent I never realized I had. Youth all over the world struggle with establishing roots. By studying here in the States, I KNOW I've been uprooted, but I've come to grips with being a third-culture kid. I'll always be 100% Argentine and 100% American—it's what makes me who I am.—Shana Brosius, MK from Argentina now studying at Pensacola Christian College, Pensacola, Florida One of my MK daughters, now studying at Trinity Baptist College in Jacksonville, Florida, freaked out when she found out her passport was expiring. She didn't want to get stuck in America! The idea of always being in America was tantamount to forced exile from one's homeland. My children will compete over how many different passport stamps they have from other countries and the number of languages they speak. Another unexpected area of confusion is language. In their country of service, everyone thinks the MK speaks English fluently. Arriving in America, they find they do not. One MK from Mexico once announced to a church congregation that I had given birth to over 50 babies while living in the jungle. He meant to 18 BIMI WORLD Number 3, 2011