High School Study Abroad in South America

Before coming to Argentina, I was excited but also nervous because it was my first time living in another country for such a long time. Looking back now, I can honestly say it was one of the best decisions I've ever made. My host family welcomed me from day one and quickly made me feel like part of their family. They introduced me to Argentine traditions, food, and everyday life, and I built memories that I'll always carry with me. Attending school in Argentina gave me the chance to improve my Spanish, make friends from around the world, and experience a completely different education system. Outside of school, I loved traveling, exploring new places, going to football matches, drinking mate, and learning about the country's culture and history. There were definitely moments when I missed home, but those challenges helped me become more independent, confident, and adaptable. I learned that growth happens when you step outside your comfort zone. I'm incredibly thankful to Greenheart Travel for making this experience possible. They were supportive throughout the process and helped me achieve a dream I had for years. I would recommend this program to anyone thinking about studying abroad. You'll make lifelong friends, gain a new perspective on the world, and come home as a different person in the best way possible.

The trip was amazing. My family took me so many places. I experienced so much. I’m so glad I stepped out of my comfort zone for this amazing trip. It was the time of my life and I can not wait to go back on a nacel trip to Mexico

My family was extremely nice. The directors were extremely nice. The school was very nice. I had the time of my life. I made many friends even though I didn’t speak amazing Spanish. It was still an amazing experience and I would do it again.

The Arcos team provided excellent support, even though we registered late. The biggest benefits for my child were the safe environment while learning a new language and a new culture. This is a program you can trust! They truly looked after our child.

I spent three weeks in Mombasa, Kenya completing a medical internship that combined hospital rotations with community outreach. I shadowed doctors in surgery, the labor ward, and pediatrics, gaining valuable insight into patient care and healthcare delivery in a new environment. The hands-on learning and exposure to different medical challenges broadened my perspective and strengthened my passion for medicine. Outside the hospital, our community outreach work showed me how education can make a lasting impact in the lives of others. The accommodations were comfortable, and I especially enjoyed the local food—like the chicken dishes and chapati quickly became my favorites. When I was young, the doctor’s office was one of my least favorite places to be. I hated the smell of antiseptic wipes, the crinkle of the exam table paper, and especially the sharp sting of shots. If someone had told my childhood self that eight years later I would spend my summer in an East African hospital, shadowing doctors, observing surgeries, and rushing from ward to ward, I would have laughed and run in the opposite direction. But my fear of healthcare did not last forever. As I grew older, the very things that once scared me began to fascinate me: how the body works, how diseases disrupt it, and how doctors step in to restore balance. That curiosity is what caused me to apply for an internship with International Medical Aid and board a plane alone to a very unfamiliar location: Mombasa, Kenya. After interning in a hospital in San Ramon, California for a year, I thought I knew what to expect from my experience with International Medical Aid. I would be rotating through obstetrics, surgery and pediatrics. Also, because I have traveled in a handful of developing counties, I thought I knew what to expect from the environment around me. However, nothing could have prepared me for the totality of the experience in Mombasa. The city was chaotic, with crowded streets, blaring horns, and a humid air with the lingering smell of cooking fires and burning trash. A constant reminder that life here moved quickly and under challenging conditions. I was initially overwhelmed. Looking back, this experience has profoundly changed me. It enabled me to make a real difference in another human being’s life. Beyond a single patient’s case, the experience ignited my interest in global public health because I witnessed firsthand the disparities in healthcare delivery in such a resource-limited setting. I will never forget the day I observed an emergency C-section. Although Kenya is not among the top 10 African countries with the highest maternal mortality rates, it continues to experience a high maternal mortality (OD AWE 2023). In 2015, Kenya’s maternal mortality rate was 510 maternal deaths per 100,000 live births (Muthee R 2025). This is an exceedingly high number when compared, for instance, to the US maternal mortality rate of 17 per 100,000 live births in 2023 (WHO 2025). That day at Coast General, the mom was in distress, lying on her side in pain because she had been in labor for hours, and everyone in the room was tense. When the doctor finally delivered the baby, I felt such relief when I heard the first cry. But then, everything changed as the baby stopped crying and became limp, not showing any of the normal reflexes babies usually have. I kept waiting for someone to do something fast to address the situation, but the nurse did not seem worried at all. The seconds seem to drag on like minutes. The nurse moved slowly, cleaning the instruments like nothing was wrong. My heart raced. I knew the baby was not breathing, and I could not just stand there, so Dani and I gently but urgently tried to stimulate the baby’s body, which did not open the baby's airway. I spoke up and asked if they could suction the baby’s airway, and the nurse finally grabbed the bulb and cleared the mucus, and after what felt like forever, the baby gasped and started to cry again. I could finally breathe, too. That moment shook me. In a hospital back home, a whole team would have rushed in right away. But here, with fewer resources and a calmer attitude toward emergencies, things moved more slowly. The nurse was operating in an environment that was under-staffed and to her the baby’s status was not an emergency. In that moment, I felt I witnessed a situation that teetered on the edge of life and death. Responding to my perception of an emergency, I also learned that even as a student, I have a voice, and using it can make a difference. I believe it is crucial to act quickly when someone’s life is at risk, regardless of where the emergency takes place. As I reflect back on this moment, however, I can see that “less” does not necessarily mean “worse.” It means using the tools around you to the best of your abilities. In this case, for the busy nurse, that included relying on the two interns to try to revive the newborn. After that moment in the operating room, I started paying closer attention not only to individual cases, but to the entire healthcare system around me. Working at Coast General gave me an unfiltered view of what it means to practice medicine in a public hospital in Kenya. The wards were crowded, sometimes with 70 patients in one large room, and just a couple of nurses caring for everyone. Each morning, before even entering the wards, lines of patients waited in areas overflowing with people, and many of them had been waiting since dawn. It looked very different from hospitals at home, where there is privacy, access to technology, and a sufficient number of staff. Even though the doctors were working with so little, they were incredible. They cared about their patients and took time to explain things to us students. They were patient teachers, despite being clearly exhausted. When the doctor could not do well, it was not because they did not care, but rather because they lacked sufficient resources, staff, or equipment. Or the patient came in too late in the evolution of a disease process. Sometimes doctors had to make hard choices about which patients to treat first because there simply was not enough time or supplies for everyone. My experience in Kenya taught me that healthcare outcomes are not purely just about medicine and physician expertise, but also about systems, access, and resources. I saw how strong clinical skills mattered more without advanced technology to rely on. And I learned how important it is to speak up when something feels wrong, even as a student. My internship with International Medical Aid was more than just a learning experience, it was a life-changing journey. I came to Kenya eager to observe medicine in action and care for people, but I left with so much more: a deeper understanding of health inequities, a stronger sense of compassion and independence, and a clearer vision for my future career. In the developing world, healthcare, I learned, is not just about curing disease; the human being, who has come into the clinic for help, has a particular life story and background that is relevant to their reason for being there. Their treatment is embedded within a complex health care delivery system with its own limitations. In a developing country, what I witnessed is that delivering healthcare means working to create the best outcome possible for that patient. I will continue to carry the lessons of Mombasa with me into every classroom I sit in, every patient I meet, and every decision I will make as a future healthcare professional. Through this experience, I learned that fear can evolve into passion, challenges can lead to growth, and even the smallest acts of care can change or even save another person’s life. Most importantly, this journey showed me that medicine is not just a career, it is a calling to help people who need it most in the worst or hardest moments of their lives. And it has shown me how great the need is in other parts of the world.

My internship with International Medical Aid in Peru was life-changing and gave me deep insight into global health disparities and the cultural complexities of healthcare delivery. As I immersed myself in the tapestry of Peruvian life, I was consistently struck by the resilience of the health providers and the people they served. From learning about Incan history to seeing firsthand how healthcare can look very different between the United States and Peru, the experience was full of meaningful revelations. These moments expanded my worldview and helped cement my desire to pursue a career in healthcare with a focus on underserved populations. One of the most impactful aspects of my time in Peru was seeing how healthcare delivery contrasted with what I was used to in the United States. In many rural areas, the infrastructure for health care is still developing. Some clinics and hospitals lacked basic medical supplies and advanced diagnostic equipment that are often taken for granted in more developed settings. For instance, at Clinic Metropolitano, we frequently took blood pressure by hand because there were few automatic machines. In these circumstances, healthcare professionals demonstrated tremendous resourcefulness and creativity. Specialized care was often limited, especially in rural regions, and many patients had to travel long distances to receive basic healthcare, let alone see a specialist. During mental health clinics in a rural town, I saw how limited access to psychiatric care affected patients. Some women struggled to find support if they experienced sexual or physical violence, and young children did not always have the opportunity to speak openly with a psychologist about issues at home or school. At the same time, I was able to observe a public healthcare system that aimed to provide care to all who worked and contributed. For example, those eligible for EsSalud clinics could receive treatment, but they sometimes faced long waits for appointments, procedures, and medications that were occasionally out of stock. When I visited a hospital to observe an Achilles tendon repair, I learned the patient had waited a year for surgery—an experience that highlighted the realities of limited resources. I also noticed that patient privacy was handled differently in a busy public teaching hospital. Interns were often allowed to observe and sometimes participate in procedures in ways that would be approached more cautiously in the United States. These experiences helped me better understand the trade-offs, pressures, and ethical considerations that come with delivering care in resource-limited, high-demand settings. Navigating cultural differences was part of everyday life in Peru. The country’s rich cultural heritage—rooted in Indigenous, Spanish, and African histories—shapes both healthcare practices and health beliefs. One of the most important lessons I learned was the value of cultural competence in healthcare. When cultural differences are understood and respected, they can significantly improve patient outcomes and satisfaction. Traditional medicine and healers remain highly relevant in many Peruvian communities, especially in rural areas. During my internship, I often saw patients using leaves and other herbal remedies that had been passed down through generations. I observed healthcare providers who respectfully acknowledged these practices while also introducing modern medical interventions when needed, carefully balancing both approaches. I also saw patients who self-medicated with antibiotics and pain medications purchased from street vendors. Although this practice can be risky, physicians approached these conversations with patience and education, encouraging safer behaviors. This experience reinforced for me how essential it is to build trust and collaborate with local communities to provide holistic, culturally sensitive, and effective care. Language barriers were another meaningful part of the learning process. Even though I was conversational in Spanish, many patients spoke only Quechua, an Indigenous language common in the Andean region. This sometimes made verbal communication challenging, but it also underscored the universal nature of empathy in healthcare. One powerful moment occurred when I interacted with a 91-year-old woman who came to the clinic alone. Despite the language gap, we communicated through gestures and with the help of the physician’s limited Quechua. That encounter showed me how deeply kindness, patience, and compassionate presence can impact someone who rarely receives medical attention. I also encountered patients with chronic conditions whose health had been affected by a combination of access issues, lifestyle factors, and healthcare hesitancy. For example, one man in his fifties had uncontrolled diabetes that was leading to neuropathy and vision problems because he did not consistently renew his insulin. Due in part to diet and social norms, many patients lived with chronic hypertension. One patient, who had been taking his medications for three months, still presented with a blood pressure of 176/101. The doctor immediately referred him to the emergency room, knowing that such levels could lead to a stroke or heart attack. These cases were powerful reminders of the importance of preventive care, education, and easily accessible services in managing chronic disease. Another highlight of my internship was learning about Peru’s rich Incan history and how it continues to influence health beliefs and practices today. The Incas were known for their sophisticated knowledge of medicine and their holistic approach to healthcare. They used a wide variety of medicinal plants, many of which remain central to traditional Andean medicine. The Incan emphasis on the mind–body–spirit connection is still reflected in the beliefs of many Indigenous communities. As part of my internship, I visited several archaeological sites where we discussed the Incan approach to health and medicine. I learned about trepanation, the surgical removal of a piece of the skull to treat head injuries—a practice that revealed advanced knowledge of anatomy and surgical technique. These visits gave me a deep appreciation for Peru’s cultural heritage and the ways historical knowledge continues to shape modern health practices. During a tour of the city and surrounding ruins, we also learned about the arrival of the Spanish and the impact of colonization on the Incan people. We heard stories of the encomienda system and the attempted rebellion led by Tupac Amaru, the last Incan leader, whose tragic fate is still remembered. The Plaza de Armas—also called the Plaza de Lágrimas—was the site of many of these events and remains a powerful symbol of resilience and history. Seeing Spanish-built cathedrals constructed with repurposed Incan stone was a vivid reminder of the layers of history present in modern-day Peru. Overall, the tour was an unforgettable experience that deepened my understanding of Incan and Spanish history and its lasting influence on the region. Comparing the healthcare systems of the United States and Peru was eye-opening and thought-provoking. In the United States, healthcare is often characterized by advanced technology, ready access to specialized care, and a strong emphasis on patient autonomy—though these benefits are intertwined with high costs and complex insurance systems. In Peru, particularly in rural areas, healthcare is shaped by limited resources, the continued relevance of traditional medicine, and strong family and community involvement in health decisions. I noticed that patients in the United States are often highly informed about their conditions and actively involved in decision-making. In Peru’s rural communities, there tended to be more deference to healthcare professionals and traditional healers. This difference seemed linked to varying levels of education, cultural beliefs, and access to medical information. I saw many instances where patients trusted and followed the advice of their providers wholeheartedly. Preventive care was another area of contrast. In the United States, routine screenings and vaccinations are widely promoted. In Peru, preventive services can be harder to access, and patients may seek care later in the course of their illness, when conditions are more advanced. This experience sharpened my awareness of the importance of public health initiatives and the need to improve access to preventive care worldwide. Ultimately, this internship was not just an academic experience—it was a journey of personal growth. Living and working within another cultural and healthcare system pushed me beyond my comfort zone and taught me to adapt quickly. I learned to navigate communication barriers, build rapport with patients from diverse backgrounds, and develop a deep respect for cultural practices that differ from my own. These experiences have made me more flexible, empathetic, and culturally sensitive. Some of the most rewarding moments came from bonding with local healthcare providers and community members. Their dedication, perseverance, and compassion were incredibly inspiring. Despite the challenges and resource limitations they faced, they were unwavering in their commitment to providing the best possible care. Their example strengthened my own resolve to pursue a health-related career focused on service and equity. Now, more than ever, I am committed to working in healthcare—particularly in global health and healthcare equity. After completing my undergraduate studies and medical school, I envision myself serving underserved populations in international settings, working to increase access to and improve the quality of care. I am also deeply interested in public health initiatives that address social determinants of health and emphasize preventive care. My time in Peru sparked a fascination with medical anthropology and the ways cultural beliefs and practices influence health behaviors. I believe that understanding these factors on a deeper level will help create more effective interventions and better health outcomes. My internship with International Medical Aid in Peru changed my life and provided invaluable insight into global healthcare disparities and cultural competence. From the ingenuity of healthcare providers working in resource-limited settings to the richness of cultural heritage preserved since the Incan civilization, every day offered something meaningful to learn. The differences between the healthcare systems of the United States and Peru were both surprising and illuminating, reinforcing the need to work toward more equitable global systems. This experience solidified my commitment to a career in medicine, with a focus on global health and healthcare equity. It taught me the importance of empathy, adaptability, and cultural sensitivity in delivering compassionate, effective care. As I continue on my path toward becoming a physician, I am motivated to apply what I learned in Peru to advocate for improved access to quality healthcare for all, regardless of socioeconomic background.

This was an excellent opportunity, and we are so appreciative that this experience is offered. My daughter had an amazing experience, and the host family was perfectly matched! She learned a tremendous amount, from becoming more fluent in Spanish to navigating travel independently. Most importantly, she gained a deeper understanding of how people live outside the US and how much this world has to offer if you simply "jump in." Have faith in your children and let them go!

The greatest benefits of my daughter's program in Peru were learning about another culture and gaining independence traveling abroad. Pay attention to documents sent to you from Arcos prior to the program as you will find them helpful for preparing. Amazing trip!

I truly had such a great experience. All the staff were incredibly kind and willing to help us 24/7. The food was amazing, and I still miss it. Overall, my favorite part of the three weeks was the community we built together. We all became so close in such a short time, and everyone was truly inspiring. I am so grateful to International Medical Aid for giving me this experience and introducing me to people who I know will continue to be a part of my life.

IMA was one of the best experiences of my life and will definitely always stay that way. The in-country support was consistently top-notch in terms of comfort, organization, and punctuality. I greatly appreciated the 24-hour security and the guarded gate at the residence, which gave both my parents and me peace of mind and allowed us to rest easier at night. The guards’ system of having us report our whereabouts for safety reasons made us feel protected while still giving us freedom with our outings and how we spent our time outside the residence. The accommodations within the residence are something I am incredibly grateful for. Having our beds made while we were away and our laundry done for us meant I could focus fully on the hospital and the program rather than day-to-day chores. The food was outstanding. On my first day, I mentioned to the chef that I do not eat beef, and every single day afterward there was always an alternative option prepared for me. I especially want to thank Grace for the friendship we built and how she was always looking out for me—whether it was after a shift or just seeing her around the residence. I remember one evening when the main course was beef burgers and she quietly brought me a plate of chicken that the kitchen had prepared just for me. Every buffet was thorough, generous, and thoughtfully prepared, with more options than I could have hoped for. The kitchen staff is spectacular and truly among the people I was most grateful for during my internship. The outreach and community impact that IMA emphasizes are done exceptionally well. From the weekly clinics to the specific lessons we taught in schools, these moments have stayed with me the most and prompted the deepest introspection and reflection. Being welcomed into under-resourced communities and seeing how we, even as students, could contribute to screenings, education, and basic services was incredibly humbling. Seeing how we were treated as interns in underserved areas was eye-opening and only fueled my passion for medicine as I witnessed how deeply doctors are valued and needed to better society. Even as a high school student, I was allowed to help perform eye tests and participate in the nutritional aspect of medical reviews—experiences I feel privileged to have had so early in my life and prospective career. The multiple avenues that IMA provides for interns—from rotating through different hospital departments to engaging in real-world scenarios where we apply our knowledge to help others—have shaped me in ways I am still processing. I can confidently say this experience has made me a more empathetic, gentle, observant, and benevolent individual. I listen more now and think more carefully before I speak, because I have seen how unforgiving yet how generous life can be depending on where and how people are born. I want to remain mindful of that and truly serve my community to make it a better place. I could not thank IMA more for this opportunity and carry immense gratitude in my heart. It was my first night shift at Coast General Teaching and Referral Hospital. I had barely been in Mombasa for a week and, despite advice to rest, I was too energized to stay in bed. Around 8:00 p.m., I arrived in the ICU not knowing what to expect. I had never been in such an unfiltered clinical environment before. My grandmother had spent her final days in an ICU in America, but even within my first week at Coast General, I knew the two settings were impossible to compare. The ICU was housed in a separate, guarded unit. We covered our shoes and hair before entering. The hospital overall felt like a black-and-white system, with each department having clear responsibilities and routines: surgery with its log sheets, maternity with its different stages of labor and dedicated C-section rooms, the Newborn Unit warm and carefully set up to mirror the womb for fragile infants. The ICU felt like the space in between—the grey zone between life and death—where nothing was sharply defined and every outcome felt precarious. At around 2:30 a.m., Dr. Hassan Ali walked into the doctors’ office and casually asked how we were doing. Still half-asleep, we answered that we were fine. Then he said, plainly, “We just lost a patient a few minutes ago.” There was no padding, no gentle buildup—just the truth. The shock to my mind did not beat the sinking feeling in my heart. Earlier that night, we had gone bed to bed, learning about each patient’s case. A pregnant mother with seizures and pneumonia, eyes rolling back then resetting, body jerking uncontrollably. A patient with a hole in her heart and pneumonia on top of her condition. A 16-year-old mother whose baby was upstairs in the Newborn Unit, while she lay jaundiced and frail from pneumonia. She was the only one strong enough to smile, and I smiled back through my mask with my eyes. Back in the doctors’ room, we reviewed patient files for the first time: names, ages, marital status, medical histories, admission dates—entire lives compressed into a few pages of ink. Around 2:31 a.m., we tried to process what had just happened. When we asked what the patient who passed had been suffering from, Dr. Ali explained it was due to diabetic complications. Her blood pressure had suddenly spiked and then crashed. Resuscitation failed. When we asked why her abnormal vitals hadn’t appeared on the central monitor, we were told her monitor wasn’t connected to the main screen because there weren’t enough connections. They usually kept the more stable patients on that monitor. This time, it turned out differently. It was the first time I fully internalized how chance and limited resources could decide whether someone lives or dies. The following week, I was placed in the Newborn Unit. Here, babies in their first hours, days, and weeks of life were monitored, supported, and stabilized. Some struggled, some were abandoned, and many were under close observation along with their mothers. One of my first tasks was to help clean the cots: washing beds with soap, chlorine, and water, changing bedding, and carefully transferring each baby. Once the work was done, I was introduced to Baby Faith—the baby I would be responsible for feeding. I prepared formula specifically labeled for Faith, mixing sixty milliliters of hot water with two scoops of formula, and wondered how I was supposed to feed him with such a large cup. That’s when Nurse Cecelia handed me a brand-new syringe. I lifted Faith from his bed and carried him to a chair. He began to stir as I gently placed the tip of the syringe between his lips. He drew it in and drank with surprising coordination. He would suck firmly once, then create an air bubble inside the syringe that eased the flow of milk—an adjustment he seemed to discover instinctively. When he fell asleep in my lap, I read through his file. He had been born premature, recently strong enough to leave the incubator and no longer need oxygen support. Then I saw it at the top of the page: “Mother deceased June 10th.” His mother had died of cancer during her pregnancy. She was 25 years old, married, and Faith was her first child. Holding him, I realized he had likely never felt his mother’s touch. From birth, he had gone straight to intensive care. As he rested against my arm, my pulse was one of the only rhythms he had to mirror. The privilege I was given to care for him is something I still struggle to express in words. My time in the Maternity Department brought together everything I had seen about life, risk, and resilience. I helped a mother adjust her clothing, called a doctor when her IV had run dry, and watched as a team supported her through each contraction. I saw the final push—the point of absolute exhaustion where she somehow found the strength to finish bringing her baby into the world. That first cry felt like the end of a war: chaos collapsing into relief. I cried too, overwhelmed by the enormity of what I had just witnessed. Not long after, I scrubbed into a C-section. The gynecologists worked with calm precision, talking us through each step. When the baby was delivered, she did not cry. Under the radiant warmer, the nurses tried stimulation, suctioning, and then CPR—fifteen compressions to two breaths, in perfect rhythm. For a moment, her chest rose faintly, then stopped. After ten minutes, the team had to make the call. The baby had passed. The mother was in critical condition but expected to recover. The abrupt shift—from hope to loss—was devastating. These moments forced me to think deeply about the three stages of life: birth, life, and death. Birth is the first test, where so much can go wrong yet survival is celebrated as a victory of chance and strength. Life is the unpredictable stretch shaped by circumstances often beyond our control. Death is the conclusion of a completely unique story, even when the diagnosis is shared by millions. Doctors stand closest to all three stages, faced daily with sights and decisions most people will never encounter. Quotes I had once read took on new meaning. Neil deGrasse Tyson said, “You can only die if you were ever alive.” Richard Dawkins wrote that most people are never going to die because they are never going to be born, emphasizing how improbable our existence really is. In Mombasa, those ideas felt tangible. I saw people lining up at pharmacies to buy medications they could barely afford, families forced to choose between basic needs and treatment, and communities where clean water is not guaranteed—where 41% of people must risk unsafe options that can land them in the hospital. I realized how rarely I had questioned those guarantees at home: rapid imaging, readily available medications, preventive care taken for granted. And yet, in Mombasa, I never once doubted the humanity of the healthcare workers. I never saw a doctor who didn’t know a patient’s name, even when responsible for more than twenty patients. I never felt they were there for prestige or wealth. Their love for their patients, their collaboration, and their sincere desire to serve were evident in every interaction. The emotional warmth and integrity I witnessed at Coast General is something I will never forget. Leaving Mombasa, the small frustrations of daily life at home felt insignificant. My perspective on privilege, suffering, resilience, and responsibility had shifted. Healthcare, I realized, is a field that operates at the very edge of all three chapters of life, demanding scientific rigor and emotional strength in equal measure. My time with International Medical Aid and at Coast General Teaching and Referral Hospital confirmed my calling to pursue medicine—not just as a career, but as a way to honor the privilege of being alive and to serve others with humility and gratitude. My heart has been permanently imprinted with the benevolence, strength, and radiance of Kenya. The love, mentorship, and trust I received from International Medical Aid, the staff at Coast General, and the broader Mombasa community are gifts I will carry with me forever. Asante sana, Kenya. We will meet again.

My experience with IMA was truly once in a lifetime. I’m endlessly grateful for the staff, including Hilda, Bella, Mitchel, Margaret, Joshua, Benson, Javan, Teddy, and the housekeeping staff who were incredibly hospitable. My laundry was done quickly, my stomach was always full of food, and my bed was always ready whenever I returned to the residence. I felt extremely safe living in the Program Residence; I could even run outside the residence without any issues. I couldn’t have asked for better hospitality. The program itself significantly impacted me. Through the cultural treks, such as the Mombasa Cultural Center and the Nguuni Nature Sanctuary, I felt immersed in Kenyan culture, which I had never learned about in the United States. The community outreach clinics also allowed me to see IMA’s positive influence on Mombasa’s community. Whether it was teaching women’s health or hygiene education, the tangible impact was incredibly fulfilling. In summary, these aspects of my internship made for an unforgettable trip.

This program is ideal for independent students. Our daughter enjoyed her host family and neighborhood in Buenos Aires. The director, Beatriz, was great. The greatest benefit my daughter gained was improving her Spanish skills through the classes, program activities and the homestay.

Arcos offers great programs for independent and culturally adventurous teens. We love these trips because they give your child more independence. I also like that it's a true cultural experience and not overly "high end", the teens are not coddled or given tons of special treatment. The activities were appropriate and fun and the Spanish lessons were top notch

Everything went extremely smoothly on my son's program in Peru with his teacher and classmates from York Prep. The greatest benefits were exposure to a new culture, camaraderie with classmates, teachers and host family. The pre-departure documents provided were excellent as well. Thank you Arcos!

The trip started of amazing, as I went on it got even better with us going all across Ecuador learning the culture and eating different foods. The favourite highlight from the trip was especially the butterfly farm and being able to have that experience of being surrounded by such beautiful butterflies.

My Spanish skills improved immensely, and I gained a much better understanding of South America. Make sure to utilize the public transportation. A main challenge for me was estimating travel times between locations. I made so many memries, from savoring delicious local dishes like pollo a la milanesa to exploring the beautiful Estancia La Cina Cina which was my favorite Arcos excursion. I especially loved the pottery activity where I made my own mate cup. Some of my most cherished memories came from simple moments, like sharing dinner with my host mom’s extended family. They made me truly feel welcomed.

On the Argentina program I explored a new city (Buenos Aires) and learned a lot of Spanish from my host family. While homesickness was a little bit of a challenge, the benefits were immense and it was definitely a great experience. Explore the city by walking to a store or cafe and checking out everything along the way.

The Arcos directors were incredibly nice and helpful, and taught me so much about Argentina. The teachers were great, and I learned a lot in classes. My homestay was wonderful. Exploring the city and learning the language and culture were major benefits. Be sure to have fun and explore during your free time!

As a student on the Argentina Spanish Language & Culture program with Arcos, I got to experience so much of Buenos Aires. I drank mate, did city tours, and improved my Spanish both in class and in real life. I absolutely recommend this program to future students; it is definitely worth it!

This is a great program for all-around immersion in Argentine culture and Spanish language learning. I took Spanish classes, lived with a local host family, did all of the guided excursions, and made new friends. The program offers so much, I suggest you don't miss out on it.