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Egresados, viaje de Egresados, fiesta de Egresados, ceremonia de Egresados, cena de Egresados. Last year I was still wondering what an egresado was. Now I know. My son has graduated, he is an egresado. My Belgian son has graduated in Argentina. He couldn’t be happier.

I suppose graduating is a big thing everywhere in the world, although I really can’t remember mine. I do remember that it wasn’t such a bit deal. All I remember is that I was happy school was over.

Here egresados have a special status. Their uniform defers from that of the younger years, many of them are ‘prefects’ and have some kind of “power” over the younger. And the celebrations don’t seem to end. Sounds like fun!

But my son has decided to go back to Belgium to study at the university there, and I have to admit that he just wants to get over and done with all these ceremonies and parties. He just wants to leave. It is not that he does not like Argentina, he just doesn’t not like the nightlife. He wants to dance all night long on techno-house music, and the mere sound of Cumbia and Reggeaton is enough for him wanting to go to bed. He is definitely not living in he right country then.

So the Egresados trip, where nightlife was most important, was just OK. The fiesta de Egresados was fun until they changed the music. The ceremony, where everyone had to go on stage, one by one, to receive his diploma together with a big hug from the teachers, he wanted to skip. And then last but not least. The big official dinner. This turned out to be lots of fun.

This last party reminds me of a wedding party, with a huge reception, after which we were all seated at round tables in the theatre of the school. It was touching when the graduates all entered the room, with loud music and a light show, after which they started dancing, all embracing each other, more like a rugby team then like a group of class mates. Argentines, especially boys, are very physical. They were like team, where even my son who has only spend 2 years in this group, was accepted. “Hay un Belga”, was said in a presentation.

The whole night there were people dancing, and it was only around 1am that we got out main course. In belgium a wedding party is considered bad if dessert isn’t served before midnight… Here the nights seem to last forever.

Very soon the bow ties and the jackets were removed, the sleeves rolled up and out of the pants. And boys wearing a tuxedo was just a mere memory. They (and we) had a ball. They are now ready to start a next stage in their lives. That of my son will be in Belgium…