Anthony Bourdain! Presente! That’s right, this foodie and world traveller is somewhere ensconced in this city of 6 million, probably drinking a pisco sour out of a sugared skinny wineflute as I write. He arrived and was whisked immediately to Fuente Alemana in Plaza Italia to eat some kind of meat sandwich I’ve never tried because I don’t eat meat. Which is probably okay, because I was never planning on getting as famous as Anthony Bourdain, nor travelling as tirelessly, even if it did bring me to Chile on a fine warm March day such as today, which, by the way, was International Women’s Day which has nothing to do with this famous television personality but might explain why my shoulders are a little pink. Man, it was hot out there. I read about Mr. Bourdain on the front cover of Las Ultimas Noticias, because apparently that is more newsworthy than a whole bunch of women marching for equal pay, reproductive rights, etc. More news on this to follow tomorrow.

I really hope they take the foodie to Galindo to try the porotos granados. I’d invite him here to try mine, but imagining a film crew in my apartment makes me want to vomit. Plus I have to work, and I can’t have all these famous people traipsing around my capacious apartment and marvelling at my view of this fire-damaged building. Yeah, so maybe I should have noticed that as it was happening? Smelled toasty.

And with that, I bid you all a fond goodnight.