pockets of joy

LNY tradition of dumps and friends lives on. And expanding it to include the dumplings of your people. Any iteration, savory or sweet, of filling wrapped in carbs will do.

And the first thing that always comes to mind as an alt dumpling is empanadaaaaaas. I love empanadas. I almost forgot about them prior to my first trek to South America. My mind being solely focused on hunks of meat, just slabs of meat seared over the fire and washed down with bottles of red wine. It wasn't until we crossed the border from Chile to Argentina and stopped over at La Esperanza for some carne empanadas that I remembered how freaking satisfying these little deep fried pockets of goodness are.

Deep fried, not baked, because apparently back in the day, having an oven was rich people status.

These little landing spots, the only sign of human activity for miles, were where we could pee, stretch our legs, and obtain sustenance. And sometimes take selfies with baby goats (not pictured).

theater and food

What finally brought me to Chile on a semi-impulse trip was Patagonia, but what I revolved most of my solo plans around was Borago. I landed in Santiago at the start of the protests before they evolved into riots and was thanking universe energy that the cheapest flight from Santiago to Punta Arenas was the day before they decided to cancel all domestic flights. As I kept getting bits and pieces of news about fires and looting and curfews and chaos, I could only think about my reservation at Borago. Because I'm selfish, and I think with my stomach 98% of the time.
I mean, in all seriousness, I was concerned about such things like.. my safety. My likelihood of getting back home. My ability to find a job and pick up Chilean Spanish. ...Whether I would make it to my reservation..........
I did. It was fine. Minus the slight panic I felt when Cabify was not taking my credit card and I had to run out and try to catch a real cab (if you didn't think social anxiety could affect your ability to catch a freaking taxi, think again) and then I spent the whole time hoping and praying what little cash I had would be enough to make it there and also that it was just Cabify glitching out and not my credit card because holy shit how embarrassing would it be if I had to promise that I could actually pay for this $150 dinner I reserved if my freaking credit card just worked.
But I made it. And the panic I felt mostly washed away when I stepped into this giant airy dining room where you could hear the echo of every step. Can they tell I'm sweating from running up to the front door?

I started with a pisco tonic. And holy crap it was the most refreshing beverage I had while there, aside from any gallon of water I chugged post any hike I trekked.