July 17 2010

Our host decided his largest dinner party would be to say Adios! to us. The ambience was consistent with everything we’d ever experienced here; the aroma from the kitchen notified us there wouldn’t be many surprises. Tonight, like every dinner party here, would be delightful in the most raucous way. We greeted Michael and he told us Araceli had created a four-course meal she knew Anna would enjoy. Guts around the room immediately swooned. But she could have served anything for us tonight. Araceli is, without a doubt, Mozart in the kitchen.

There is no other Republica de Cuba street quite like this one. For two years, we were granted the privilege to attend multiple dinner parties with some extraordinarily warm, intelligent and festive people. But as our friends sat, the candles flickering brilliantly enough to let me capture the evening through my lens, I began to realize that this would not be, could not be replicated anywhere else. The friendships, the music, the food, the preparations, the seating arrangements, the time-warping, the discussions, Araceli’s cooking, the laughter, records, rolodex, bow-ties, name cards, and Virgencita aprons, were all unique moments rapidly fleeting. Evenings like this – in the beautiful monstrosity of DF – would no longer be a regular occurrence in our lives. Like Anna said at the end of the evening, “It feels like an end of an era.”