papas fritas

there was a period of time when i constantly craved fries. these were the JC days, and options were abundant, though not always satisfying. there was the 24 hour mcdonalds, and plenty of drunken (usually crying) nights were accompanied by them. later i graduated to hollywood chicken, where the fries were tasty, but paled in comparison to the pizzarolls. but really, the crowning glory was white star, with their crispy steak 'n shake sized fries with just the right amount of seasoning. but even those couldn't compare to the pommes frites on second avenue.

in the years since, i've discovered the garlic fries at looking glass, and have drunkenly waxed on about how every bar with food should have a basket of fries for under $3. i've had district 2's disappointingly overpriced fries with truffle oil. and 4P's (still overpriced) sweetpotato fries opened up new possibilities. but when salon moved to cathedral ave. i started buying the $2.5o bags of frozen fries at giant and never shut up about how i'd beat the system. despite the rarity with which i eat "fast food" these days, i've even tried wendy's new natural cut, sea salt fries twice (conclusion: they are no better than wendy's previous fries, and in fact are worse than most fast food fries). though i wouldn't necessarily claim to be a connoisseur, i probably pay more attention to fried potatoes than your average fry eater.

salchipapas

and my first two weeks in la paz this time i had my fair share of fries. with sandwiches, in poutine, even with a hamburger. yes, i even tried salchipapas one fateful night (or 2). but they lacked something. is it possible i've grown out of my fry phase? i've moved on to mashed potatoes (pure de papas), and even the kinds that come out of a bag just seem so delicious these days. creamy, buttery, salt & peppery. utterly delicious. i still can't get enough ketchup, so the chips have their place, but in a way, i think fieldwork has brought on a new life phase. at least in my eating habbits. so, this place has changed me in a way more profound than perhaps even i realize. is 2am too late to go make my packet of kris pure de papas?

para rick

I’m missing people today. People I met when I was four, and people I’ve known only a few weeks. They have moved on to better places, whether that be a slightly less chaotic South American nation or whatever afterlife (or not) one might believe in.

My head keeps playing an annoying song I learned in girl scouts. Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other’s gold. And aside from the capitalist/consumerist metaphor of silver and gold having some sort of innate worth, I guess the song is ringing true to me. As I was packing up my bags in the capital city of the world’s biggest bully I whimpered to my mother that I wasn’t sure I could bear to leave people behind. That these people had become my rock in a time of so much growth. My four years in DC certainly were not my worst years (ahemjerseycityahem). They were also not my most triumphant. But they were years that (like all years) changed me. That fostered growth. That asked hard questions, and occasionally wandered through the door with a bag full of answers.

But my mother answered, in her infinite wisdom, that I too often forget exists, that I have always found important people to me wherever I go. And there is no reason to think that I won’t again.

And she was right. In a way, even in La Paz, I feel loved. I am happy here. This is not the first time I’ve made intimate friends quickly. And I hope that these last the way the friends I made in the desert did. I’ve enjoyed watching us grow older (but not up), even if we can’t even pretend to perpetuate our old water bottle lifestyles. But I’ve also made friends slowly over the course of decades. And I look at my first true friends and what we’ve become. We are distant, and some of us have little in common any more, but as recent events have made clear, when crisis strikes, we’ve got each others’ backs. We are there. Even if just to shout through the phone over the noise of endlessly passing L trains, we are there. And it makes me feel so privileged that can be there.

But I am missing people tonight. And honestly, this doesn’t feel so incredibly different than sitting in a quiet room in Washington, DC wishing I was in a bar with my best friend in New York. Or watching Netflix with my best friend in Chicago. Or sitting on around the firepit with my parents and sister. But alas, I am missing people tonight. I miss my friend who was wise beyond his years and it destroyed him. I miss the person who loves me so deeply that I can’t fully comprehend it. I miss my mother who always suprises me with her insight, and my sister who I admire so much for her bold resolve. I miss my dad, who always has too much to say, but I’d never wish to quiet. I miss my new friend with whom I profoundly disagree philosophically, yet still like to hear the insight. I miss my cohort who always have the right (anti-capitalist, feminist, Marxist, queer, anti-establishment) answer. I miss the one person I allow to call me baby. I miss so many people in so many ways, and just keep accumulating more.

But maybe it’s the constant accumulation that keeps it livable.