Graduation, Pisco, Cholent, and Challah

Friday was my last day of school. While it may not be internationally ranked, I did receive a diploma. I can't imagine framing it next to my Wildcat one - Intermedio 2B in Spanish as a Foreign Language is just not at all relevant in any context outside of this tiny blue building on Calle Del Arzobispo. But, Escuela Bellavista gave Northwestern a run for it's money. Actually, if we look at the financial vs. amusement charts, Bellavista far outran Northwestern.

In the last two weeks, I met such a cast of characters like you wouldn't believe. I had two amazing teachers who were patient and thoughtful, and explained complex grammar better in an hour than any classroom high school or college profesor had done for me. After eating the best empanada so far

Friday afternoon, I got to work on some seventh grade textbook Spanish. In just three hours, I went to a bakery, a school, a hospital, and a beauty salon. Each served its own mundane purpose but I was enchanted by all of the small oddities and coincidences. The most notable would be the sighting of and eye contact with a attractive, young doctor wearing a black kippah with his white lab coat - only to find out he is my Chilean family's cousin, and married with four kids. While I didn't find my soulmate, I did find a really great cookie, courtesy of Debi - two graham cookies sandwiched dulce de leche and covered in chocolate. 

A nice gringa named Danielle came to stay for Shabbat. We already had 22 mutual friends on Facebook, so getting along was a non-issue. We had nice pillow talk late into the night and continued to be buddies through the next day, which involved some cholent eating, book reading, and serious napping. Before Shabbat ended, we walked to a local book fair. Despite an awesome set up with interactive poetry exhibits, a mainstage with live music and a sweet cafe, the circus tent of publishing houses was nearly empty on the Saturday afternoon. I could insert some complex commentary on what this says about Chilean culture but I haven't come to any conclusions yet. 

Since Danielle was staying one more night, I could finally go out at night because I had a buddy. We met her friends at Bar Constitucion, drank piscola and danced awkwardly to 70s turned dubstep before skipping out. Later events included evading largely lackadaisical police (they don't do anything. at all.), bopping to live reggaeton drum and song,  and stopping by one more warehouse club, Galpo 9, where the light show and music video screens kept the party going to much later than I stayed.

As we sat on the bus home, Danielle finished telling me a funny story about a friend of a friend. One stop later, of all the millions of Santiaguinos to board, this friend of a friend gets on to ride home. 

We giggled over the smallness of the world, arrived home speedily, and had melty challah, cheese and avocado midnight snacks with my Chilean hermanita Hannah and her sleepover buddy. The four of us culinary queens devoured the perfect after-hours munchies before heading to bed in a less-than-timely fashion.

A good weekend was had by all.