A "Class"-y Affair

Last night I partook in my final dinner in Argentina, not with steak (that was done for lunch with a half a bottle of wine, and a pleasant steak it was indeed), but with a supper club dinner with a chef that uses all local ingredients.  It (feels like it) is a rather new way to dine and feel special since this happens at someone's residence, like at the chef's place this time.  Listening to the folks around me talking throughout dinner at their own tables, I was oddly cognizant of how out of place I always feel at fancy affairs full of pretensions.  My friend was not as uncomfortable as me, so I wonder if it's because of my own confidence issues?

Whatever the case, I ate and was merry with my flight of 4 varieties of wines.  The oil candle steadily burned and the food was consumed course after course.  The night was pleasantly cool, only later on becoming a little more of a cooler spring evening, but by then, the alcohol had begun warming me.  The white place mats held signs of my clumsiness, a splash of green with an imprint upon it revealing an unsteady hand with the place too far away.

Throughout my trip, we have been following rough guide suggestions and not really foraging through the other delicacies that lie here and there.  For a first romp, it was good to be able to go to some places that served exactly what we had been hoping for, and as a credit to our guide, there were plenty of very local places where the path was not quite so beaten down.  Obviously our footprints have left a mark though, so one only wonders how much more the path will be worn down.

In the afternoon, we finally made it to have our Yerba Mate kick.  It's an herby liquid that felt healthy among all the good meats that we have been feasting on.  I've had enough cow to last me for many months, and frankly I'm not sure that US beef can stand to the quality and price that we found here.  The Mate sat idly in the gourd cup after each sip of hot water was poured in, the leaves slowly losing themselves to the waves. 

The whole set of jam, bread, and light crackers was a nice late afternoon delight.  The communal Mate was a nice way to chill and focus on us, though we generally opted to silence and enjoyment of the food and drink.  At a very regimented pace, we left quite promptly to get home eventually to rest and pop onwards to dinner.

Before dinner, we stopped by a vegetarian hippydippy paradise where I purchased all of my Mate, one pack being produced at a co-op. I drank a lemonade spiked with ginger and fresh mint to bring about my insatiable appetite.  My travels in Argentina were coming to a close, and I knew that I had just begun to understand a continent that I've heard about so much, grew up surrounded by stories and families that I never truly engaged in.  The fact that Argentina talks about it's indigenous people so much, but appear so white and European, when I heard that three employees in every Starbucks is from Colombia, the way that white privilege seemed to replay itself in the streets daily, I wonder what is going on beneath the surface here.  I only know that privilege in all it's forms may act or play out differently in various places, but that there is an invisible thread linking things, an undercurrent steering us hitherthither, driving things into motion.   I have begun quite a while ago, but it's more important than ever to make those choices, to sway things into motion that I decide, and to not be mired down.  Peek-a-boo, I can see through...