sometimes

Sometimes I find myself thinking, ¨Maybe I should have come to Argentina at the end of July instead of in June, since I won´t even start teaching until mid-August.¨ But then I realize how many great things I´ve experienced so far, or I think about all the Spanish I´ve learned, or I have a night like last night that fills me with Argentine contentment.

Saturday night dinners in the Lavie household are usually drawn-out affairs. Friends and family come to eat, much wine is drank, my host dad Carlos spends all afternoon in the kitchen preparing amazing culinary treats, there is much talk and laughter.

And last night was even more special, because two of Carlos´ cousins and their husbands came for dinner. From listening to them talk, I gathered that they hadn´t seen each other for a long time, and from observing the fact that Carlos started preparing food on Friday instead of the usual Saturday-afternoon routine, I figured this was going to be one smashing meal. (I was right, by the way.)

Around 9 Carlos put on a video of a really fabulous flamenco concert. The singer´s voice was an incredible contradiction of rough and sweet, and the piano player downright amazing. (For you music lovers out there, I will ask Carlos who this singer was when he wakes up at his usual Sunday time of 5 or 6pm.) We sat and drank red wine and I was sucked into the music.

Then we were ushered into the fancy dining room (this was the first time I´d ever seen it used), where plates of meats and cheeses and baskets of fresh bread were laid out on the long table. We ate from those plates and drank more wine and my ears buzzed with conversation. A woman´s beautiful, low voice came from the stereo, filling the gaps between words.

It was exciting, realizing the level of my comprehension - they were discussing things like ocular lobes and political rights, and I understood. I even took part in the conversation, discussing my travel plans and my family and why I´m here in Argentina and whether or not I voted for Obama and what I studied in college. It was an exhilarating feeling, realizing that I can converse with a table of adults in Spanish at a dinner party.

Then came the main course - plates of fresh ravioli stuffed with sweet cheese, swimming in a homemade sauce of tomatoes, basil and garlic, and topped off with sausage cooked in white wine and freshly grated parmesean cheese, accompanied by more bread and (you guessed it) more wine. It was heaven.

And what is a Saturday night dinner without dessert - rice pudding, apple tart and an assortment of ice cream flavors. Holy full stomach. I was absolutely stuffed. And tired from the wine. And so content I felt I would burst. (Or maybe that was just because of my really full stomach.) It was a very good night indeed.