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The end of my journey began when I was pulled over by Argentine police officers. Peeking through the back window of my host brother’s white 2003 Peugeot, they immediately knew I was a foreigner. It may have been the red, white and blue bandana I had tied around my head. All I wanted was to get a taste of Paraguay. With chipa, an Argentine snack, in one hand, I put my head against the window as muffled Spanish words were exchanged. I knew some of the words, but by the expressions on their faces, this was not going to end well. Discrimination is truly everywhere, yet the language barrier did not deter me from coming up with a plan to get to Paraguay. I knew words could kill and words could give life, they are either poison or fruit to choose from. I chose to feed fruit to those officials to get what I wanted. At first I did not think it would work, but what I could see on the other side of that border gave me life. This traumatic stop was the last thing I expected. Four hours earlier we left the fluorescent green house where I forgot my yerba mate and listened to Despacito to pass the time. As we were riding along Ruta 34 from Argentina to Paraguay, the smell of fumes clogged the air. As I looked out the window, flames engulfed piles of garbage. I was terrified every time we swerved into the other lane to pass a tractor-trailer transporting goods from Brazil en route to Paraguay. The zig-zag writing in my journal would remind me of our rollercoaster ride across the border. Traveling to Paraguay gave me a chance to step outside of the realm of familiarity again. This seemingly short four hour drive with three friends came to a complete stop at the Argentina-Paraguay border. The official glanced at our passports before his colleague followed him into a back office. I knew we were in trouble now. They decided we could pass only after paying $150 USD apiece. Less than two minutes later I realized that I only had pesos. Once the money did not appear, they instantly started rattling unfamiliar Spanish. I had fallen victim to backdoor corruption. There is an anxious feeling of getting across the border and safely returning home, but the curiosity of walking a different way of life drew me closer to Paraguay. The best part about about traveling back to Argentina was the power yerba mate had in lessening the impact of these horrid encounters.