Arepas

No sooner had I gotten inside my room, changed into my pajamas, and started to get ready for bed when my phone rang. It being 2:30 a.m., I had no doubt it was Wolfang, and didn't even pause to glance at the Caller ID before answering. "I just realized," said Wolfang, "that I promised to make you Venezuela food before you left, and I never have. So, you're coming over for breakfast tomorrow morning." I asked what time, and he responded "10". Now, I happen to know that Wolfang frequently doesn't even get up until 10 -- I usually get up at 9:30 -- so I incredulously asked "will you even be up by then?" Wolfang laughed and assured me that yes, for this, he would.

The next morning I walked down to his apartment, and was stunned when I entered. I had been there once before, for Andrea's birthday party, and had noted how cluttered a small apartment gets when 6 people share the space. It hadn't been dirty -- there was just stuff, everywhere. But walking in that sunshiny morning, the entire place seemed to be glistening. Not a book was out of place, as far as my eye could see. And Wolfang, in the kitchen, was putting the finishing touches on preparing something which smelled absolutely delicious.

Presenting the platter infront of me, he blessed the food, and then prompted me to take a bite. After two months of eating nothing but toast every morning for breakfast, my mouth responded to his Venezuelan dish like a gift from heaven. I asked what they were called: "Arepas" he explained. "They're only eaten in Venezuela...well, and some in Columbia. Remember to go home and tell Micah you've had them!" For those of you who, like I was, are unfamiliar with this dish -- it's sort of like a homemade McGriddle, more healthy, and much more tasty. They're these corn pancake type things, which are filled with melted cheese and scrambled eggs. We drank a strawberry shake with our meal.

Afterwards, tired (neither one of us had gotten enough sleep), full, and content, we moved to the sofa, where we snuggled and talked for an hour and a half, before our final (and dreaded) goodbye. Giving him a long hug, we swore to always be in touch via Facebook, and I left. And while I'm not one to cry, a few tears fell as I walked away, caught the bus, and rode to the university. I'm really going to miss that kid :(.

And because enough of you have asked, no, we never kissed. We reached this unspoken mutual understanding that such wouldn't accomplish anything. He became my incredibly trusted and valuable friend during the summer, and was fun as a flirtation -- but nothing more. I have to admit, the wonderful think about a language barrier, is that it impeded me from trying (or even wanting) to have any sort of "defining the relationship" conversation. Instead, I simply relaxed and enjoyed myself, never analyzing, nor even caring, where our friendship would go next.

Wolfang was the highlight of my summer, and the primary reason my verbal Spanish progressed as much as it did. I wish all of you could meet him! Though maybe that'd be impossible...he showed up in my dream the other night, at a party with me and all of my friends. Everyone kept prattling in English though, and he looked incredibly lost, until some of Spanish RM friends starting playing translator.