Lives of Wander

Theresa December 7th, 2009

Thanks to all of those who left us questions when we opened up the floor. Here is our attempt at answering. If you’ve thought of something else you want to ask, go ahead and do so. We have received other questions via email, and we plan to answer those in a later installation.

Did you ever have to get medical treatment or even buy medicine?
Only two sicknesses stick out in my mind. On New Year’s Eve 2008, two days before we were to begin our hike to Machu Picchu, I came down with a stomach bug. I first got sick on the flight from Lima to Cuzco, and it didn’t let up the rest of the day. Making it worse, we were in a freezing cold room with a crappy bathroom. It was also pouring rain. And to top it off we had to go to the trekking office to make our final payment. I had to stop about every 20 feet, and at one point, I was so bad off my brother actually offered to carry me. The next day I felt better, but then it returned the next day, our first day on the Inca Trail, when I hurled the second I stood up from the lunch table. Unfortunately, I also passed it on to my brother, who got to learn just how tough he was when he was horribly sick on the hardest (and what turned out to be the coldest and wettest) day of the hike.

The second incident was when Jeff and I both simultaneously came down with what we strongly suspect to have been the swine flu. We were in Siem Reap, Cambodia, which was experiencing a big outbreak of the epidemic at the time. We had all the symptoms–crazy delusion-causing fevers, respiratory issues, horrible aches and pains, and overall yuckiness. I also had the bonus of stomach issues. We were sick for about three days, but there was one night I thought we just might die. I may have actually wished to die because I felt so miserable. Luckily we were able to secure some Tamiflu, which really helped.

Other than that, we were pretty much healthy. Our stomachs also proved to be made of steel as we handled the local food and water with nothing more than a blip of discomfort here and there.

What is the one things that pissed you off the most?
We got annoyed at the fact that most people in the world have no idea what a line is. We got tired of being quoted prices many times higher than they should have been and having to haggle for a fair price. I thought the guy on our Inca Trail hike who didn’t think we needed to tip our guide or the porters was an ass. But I only remember getting really pissed a few times.

Once was when the bus left us, as well as the four other tourists onboard, at the Vietnam-Laos border, forcing us to hunt down and pay for a private mode of transport because it took us too long to get our visas. I actually took the getting left behind in stride; what were we to do? What got us pissed was the company’s refusal to take responsibility or give us any sort of fair compensation.

The second was when my purse was stolen on the train in India. I wished all sorts of evil on him, and if I had had a chance at him, it would not have been pretty.

The third was later on the same day in India, when we saw the reality of the caste system come into play and witnessed the level of inhumanity that so many people live with every day. We haven’t told this story here before, and it would take too long to explain in this post, so check back next week when I’ll tell my Varanasi cycle rickshaw story.

What made you smile the biggest?
I immediately thought of the kids in Africa when I read this question. It’s funny because I wouldn’t say that either of us are huge kid/baby people. Don’t get me wrong, we like them, and might even want our own one day, but we definitely don’t fawn over every one we see. But the kids in Africa were so spirited, so funny, so contagiously in love with life. And they were always so damn thrilled to see us (unless they were absolutely scared to death of us). I still remember turning this corner in Zanzibar and coming across a group of three small kids. As soon as they saw us, they started shrieking “Mzungu! Mzungu! Mzungu!” (what they call white people), jumping up and down, and going absolutely crazy. It was like they’d just won the lottery. Simply amazing. We don’t quite get the same reception around here.

World’s best airline? Worst?
Air Emirates has earned its reputation as a top-tier airline. The seats were comfy and came with individual entertainment systems with tons of options, and food and service was good. We also had a good experience on Air France, getting exit row seats and a choice of approximately 1 zillion movies on our own individual systems.

Air India Express was probably the worst. Our flight was delayed  for 6 hours, and we could get absolutely no information on why or when it might possibly leave. Also, the passengers on this airline were nuts. I think every single person went the bathroom during the flight (which was less than 2 hours), and they made a line all the way down the aisle of the plane. And more than one person actually got up to attempt to go the bathroom as we were landing. We were literally about to put wheels down when they stood up. I know this isn’t directly about the airline, but the flight crew didn’t seem to have much control or influence.

Where in South America should I go?
What a beautiful continent! I’m ready to go back. Go to Patagonia if you want to see natural beauty the likes of which you can’t imagine. Go to the Galapagos because you get to snorkel with seals and penguins and see things you won’t see anywhere else in the world. Go to Buenos Aires to eat steak, ice cream, and wine, be seduced by the tango, marvel at the beautiful people, photograph the architecture, and try to speak their crazy version of Spanish. Go to Machu Picchu because it’s mystical and magical and simply astounding.

You are supposed to go to the dentist every 6 months. Did you?
No. I don’t even like going to the dentist here (though yes, I do it). There was no way we were braving it in some foreign country.

Best thing you ate? Worst thing you ate? Strangest thing you ate?

Best according to Jeff: Coconut Ice Cream with Dulce De Leche (Argentina), Steak (Argentina), Keow Teow Noodles (Laos), Malai Kofta (India), Naan (Amritsar, India)

Best according to Theresa: Steak (Argentina), Cau Lao Noodles (Hoi An, Vietnam), Fresh Fruit Shakes (Asia), Mangoes (Malaysia), Naan (Amritsar, India), Potato Momos (Dharamshala), Omelette with chips and roti (Mbeya, Tnazania). Strangely enough, what I find myself most craving though is gallo pinto, Nicaraguan style basic beans and rice.

Worst: Neither of us cared for the chincheros (fried pork skin) given to us by our host family in Granada. I also have to say we’re not big fans of cassava, or the million other names third-world countries around the globe have for the starchy white stuff that fills the world’s stomach without providing any real nutrition.

Strangest: We didn’t eat bugs or any of the other creepy-crawly-type things that really freak people out. In Africa, we did try ostrich, springbok, kudu, and some other types of wild game. In Asia, I had fish balls, which I actually liked.

What’s your favorite place in the world and why?
Africa, Africa, Africa. If I were to be given another year to travel, I’d immediately hop a plane to Africa, buy me an old 4WD, and spend the entire year exploring the continent. The landscapes were phenomenal, and the people even more so. I felt like our most “authentic” experiences were in Africa, that we experienced it on a more intimate level than most other places. I also have to say that I never, ever, ever got sick of looking out my window and seeing an elephant or zebra or lion or whatever. It’s just simply the most amazing place I’ve ever been.

• About Us , Food , Health , Travel Difficulties
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Theresa October 29th, 2009

Place Taken: Tisey Reserve, near Esteli
Date Taken: October 27, 2008

During Nicaragua’s rainy season, the forests surrounding the city of Esteli get pretty wet. We were determined, however, not to let a little (or a lot) of rain keep us from seeing this beautiful part of the country. So we made two trips—one to the Miraflor Nature Preserve (which turned out to be a muddy disaster as we wrote about at the time) and one to the Tisey Reserve. Though the evening and night brought a lion’s share of rain, the day had breaks of sunshine, which we took advantage of, hiking up a nearby mountain for a 10-mile view and then walking to a nearby village where we were told they make excellent goat cheese.

By the time we arrived at the village our mouth was nearly watering as we thought about the creamy, white, spreadable goat cheese that we know and love. But that’s not what we found when we got to the goat farm; what we found was hard rounds of rinded cheese. We went for it anyway. It turned out that we didn’t like it as much as the creamy stuff, but it wasn’t bad. Right after we purchased it, the rain began to come, so we enjoyed the cheese with some bread while tucked away in the village general store, where the friendly owner provided us with a cutting board and knife. The rain would last the rest of our time in Tisey, but it wouldn’t ruin the trip. We could still lay in the hammock on the porch of our cabin and listen to the frogs, and that evening we met another couple also visiting the reserve. The guy was from Nicaragua, the girl from Spain, and our entire conversation was in Spanish, a major accomplishment for me as I’d just finished my first and only week of Spanish lessons.

• Central America , Food , Nicaragua , Photography
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Theresa September 6th, 2009

Brunei is a tiny country. If you were motivated you could probably walk right across it. And as you might suspect, there’s not a whole lot for a traveler to do in Brunei. So why did we stop there? Well, crossing Brunei is the easiest way to get from the Malaysian Borneo state of Sabah to the Malaysian Borneo state of Sarawak. And if you’re going to cross, you might as well stop and see what there is to see, right? That’s the way we see things.

So what is there to do? Well, in the conservative Muslim but rather friendly nation of Brunei, we pondered the trappings of wealth at the Royal Regalia Museum, respectfully reflected at the Omar Ali Saifuddien Mosque, peeked around the floating neighborhood of Kampung Ayer, took a hike to a waterfall, and snacked on some excellent satay.

And oh yeah, Jeff ate noodles. In fact, he ate three packages of Mee Goreng (fried noodles) in a span of just over three minutes. And while that’s fast, it wasn’t fast enough. Someone else managed to eat the same amount of noodles in a span of three minutes and a few less seconds. You see, Jeff’s idea of a good time in Brunei is entering a noodle eating contest, which was held as part of some great big Ramadan sale and festival. The contest was held after dark, of course, so as not to interfere with fasting.

The contest involved two sessions, with Jeff being the only non-local entered into either. His entry brought plenty of smiles from the locals, and he even had his own cheering session yelling “Go USA” as he shoveled noodles into his mouth. Entering the contest, Jeff didn’t think he stood a chance, but as the clock ticked toward the three minute mark, it was down to Jeff and a fellow competitor. They had a few forkfuls of noodles left on their plate, as well as a glass of tea that they had to slam down as the finale, while everyone else had mounds. I suspect that more than a few people entered the contest not to win, but to get a free dinner.

Though there were a few short seconds in the contest where it looked close, in the end Jeff fell to someone with a bit more practice eating noodles. Oh well, we would have missed the finals, scheduled for September 5, anyways, and I’m not sure what we would have done with the grand prize of hundreds of packages of noodles. The free dinner, free t-shirt, and new friends we made was prize enough. Maybe a few more eating contests is just what the world needs. It’s not too often that you see conservative Muslims chanting “Go USA. Go USA.”

• Asia , Brunei , Food
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Jeff August 23rd, 2009

I’ve always had an addiction to Pad Thai. It started with my first taste of Thai food, at Sawadty Thai Cuisine on Bainbridge Island and has really only grown since. Which makes being able to eat it on a daily basis a wonderful, wonderful thing (though more than once a day is a little to much for me). Now, at home, we’ve tried all sorts of “pad thai” recipes trying to recreate the deliciousness that comes so easily to asian cooks. Pretty much any recipe we could find, that doesn’t require days of preparation, we’ve tried. All to no avail. We’ve been told the “secret ingredients” range from extra sugar and peanuts to ketchup (more on that later). But alas, nothing ever tastes quite like what you get at a Thai restaurant.

So determined to get to the bottom of this once and for all, we took a cooking class in it’s homeland. Specifically, in the heartland of Thai cooking, Chiang Mai. I started off with my favorite Pad Thai. It’s really very simple, just some oil to start the wok, water to keep things from burning, your meat, vegetables and garlic in, then some fish sauce for salty, some sugar for sweet, and some oyster sauce to give it some body. Add your peanuts and sprouts, and presto!, really good pad thai. Of course, the problem is in the whole finding the right ingredients. Fish sauce is relatively common in the US, but oyster sauce may be a little tricker. Unfortunately for all of you, I gobbled it down to fast for Theresa to get a picture. Theresa started with spring rolls and had it down in no time. Delicious stuff, and definitely one for the recipe book.

Really, I could’ve left then and been happy now that I can make my own pad thai, but we went on to to cook about ten other dishes between the two of us. I worked on hot and spicy soup, cashew chicken, spicy red curry, an asian chicken salad and mango sticky rice. Theresa specialized in hot and creamy soup, sweet and sour chicken (hint: secret ingredient – ketchup!), green papaya salad and mango sticky rice. Besides being ridiculously full as we also ate all of our dishes, we left armed with a whole slew of new meals to make. And I’m sure they won’t be as easy as our teachers made them seem, and finding the right ingredients won’t be particularly simple (shrimp paste, which smells disguisting by the way, and green papaya can be a little more difficult to discover, or even identify) but the food’s just worth it.

As a final test to our readers, in the middle of our day, we learned to carve a leaf and a flower. Can you guess who’s handiwork this is?

• Asia , Food , Thailand
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Theresa July 9th, 2009

Jeff and I love Asian food. And we also like to cook. I’d say that back in our “normal life” we eat food we prepared in our own kitchen about 90% of the time. But it’s rare that we cook Asian food. We cook some curries and stirfries; we’ve made our own dumplings; and we’ve tried plenty of times to create the perfect Pad Thai. But generally when we want Asian food, we eat out. In fact, most of the 10% of eating out we do is at Asian restaurants.

For me, cooking Asian food is intimidating. Well, I’m not sure it’s the cooking so much as the shopping for ingredients. Asian food requires items that aren’t necessarily pantry basics; items that sometimes can’t be found at the regular grocery store. Now D.C. has no shortage of Asian grocery stores, and I have ventured into them, but usually I leave empty handed. The store is full of items that, to a good ol’ southern girl like me, look weird and smell even weirder. And to top it off all the writing is in Asian script and the staff rarely speaks English, so I usually don’t have any idea what the weird thing I’m looking at, smelling, and poking actually is. I once did manage to find shrimp paste, a necessary ingredient in some recipe I was trying. I swear I’ve never smelled something so bad. Apparently the dish tasted fine (according to Jeff); personally I couldn’t eat it because I couldn’t get the smell out of my nose. When it was time to move out of our D.C. apartment, it was the one jar that I didn’t recycle. While I emptied out, washed out, and recycled literally every other bottle and jar in our refrigerator, I wasn’t about to open that one.

But not wanting scary shrimp paste to permanently scar me and prevent me from making some of the dishes we love most, Jeff and I decided that we’d dive into some cooking classes while in Asia. Up first, Cambodian cooking in a half-day class at Battambang’s Smokin’ Pot.

We started out with a trip to the market, which made the Asian supermarkets in D.C. look as non-threatening as a Care Bear. We scuttled in between women deep-frying crickets and fish flopping out of buckets and wiggling toward parking lot puddles. I tried not to wonder how long the huge slabs of meat had been hanging there, and I only asked Jeff once if what I was looking at was noodles or worms. By the time we exited, we were all laden down with bags full of the ingredients we would cook—lemongrass, eggplant, chiles, garlic, chicken, fish, snake beans, and more—as well as tips on what to look for when shopping and a pretty good idea of what all the fancy packaged ingredients in the U.S. look like before they’re nicely preserved.

And then it was time to cook. Our first dish was fish amok, a curry that is probably the most popular dish in Cambodia. This wasn’t cheater-style curry; we actually began by making our own curry paste, a feat that required much chopping and then some stone mortar and pestle action.

Ingredients prepared, it was off to the stove, where we sweated (very literally) over a flame, as we mixed our homemade curry with our hand-squeezed coconut milk and our hand-chopped veggies and fish. As soon as most of the coconut milk was boiled away, we transferred our food to plates and chowed down on the best fish amok we’d had yet.

I was stuffed after cleaning my plate, but we were just beginning. Two more dishes awaited. The second was a spicy basil stirfry with beef that required us to throw ingredients into our wok at astounding speed while making sure that nothing burned. I felt very chef-like, and I must say that my dish could have made the menu at any of the Asian places we frequent.

And to end the day, we made a soup, one of my favorite kinds–a sour-spicy lemongrass chicken soup. Though normally I’d say it was too hot for soup, and though I was already stuffed, I finished it off anyhow. Delicious.

And though I’m still not sure I want shrimp paste in my refrigerator (or fish paste for that matter, which we used in our amok), I don’t feel nearly as intimidated about cooking (or shopping for) Asian food. We’ve definitely got three new dishes to add to the rotation, and I bet there’s a few more we’ll like in the cookbook they gave us at class’s end. Maybe if you’re lucky we’ll invite you over for dinner once we return home.

• Asia , Cambodia , Food
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Jeff September 4th, 2008

Thanks for all the voting so far … keep em coming, we need to know, Riga or Tallinn?

As many of you know, and as many of you don’t know, today was my birthday.  I’m finally the same age as Theresa again (for another six months) and, well, thats about all the benefits I see about being a year older any more.  In years past it was driving, then voting, then drinking, then … renting a car.  No longer, nothing more gained but another tick off the clock.  But today was quite a special day for another reason.

Its official!  I wrote a book!  Now I nail it to the wall tomorrow (ala Martin Luther) and then wait three weeks to defend it against all who dare to criticize me =).  The process is almost complete!

The best part of my birthday though, was our dinner this evening.  We headed to Kungsholmen, a restaurant I had heard about as being very unique, lively and delicious.  The voices that told me this were certainly right.

Kungsholmen has seven different “bars” – really cooking stations set up on the sides of the restaurant.  Each one contributes six elements to the menu, and they vary widely.  There is a sushi bar, a salad bar, a soup bar, a bread bar, a grill bar, a bistro bar, an ice cream bar and a cocktail bar.  I ordered the Moroccan lamb chops off the grill menu while Theresa ordered the tuna burger with wasabi sauce off the bread menu.  Both of our meals were absolutely delicious, my chops perfectly spicy with sides of fried mashed potatoes and yogurt covered cucumbers and Theresa’s tuna lightly seared aside an open faced burger and an almost guacamole-ish wasabi sauce.

The atmosphere itself was also something to behold as the waiters and waitresses shuttled between these various bars while still maintaining an eye on their customers – truly an impressive feat.

Yet at the same time, it wasn’t like a lot of restaurants where they go for the busy vibe but you can’t even hear yourself think.  It was an active environment that you could still have a cozy conversation in – a rare balance.

Anyway, you may be able to tell from my comments that I left the restaurant duly impressed.  It certainly is not the cheapest place in town, but if you find yourself in Stockholm, check it out.  What other restaurants out there have you been to that have impressed you equally well?  Bonus points for bargains!

• Food , Sweden
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Theresa May 25th, 2008

Grocery stores reveal a lot about a place. In Germany, grocery stores are just a couple of aisles. They’re very focused. You want mayonnaise? Here, have a tube of mayonnaise. There aren’t 27 brands to choose from. There isn’t full fat, low fat, no fat, imitation. There aren’t glass jars, plastic tubs, squeeze tubes. There’s just one of each product, and you either take it or leave it. Though at first, it seemed so limiting, by the time I came home from a year in Germany, I was so adapted to it that I was completely overwhelmed by American grocery stores.

In America, we don’t have grocery stores; we have supermarkets. There are entire aisles dedicated to bread, entire shelves stocked with ketchup, more cereal choices that you could consume in a year. Even “exotic items” have options. And if you want to buy your toilet paper, light bulbs, school notebooks, and laundry detergent, do your banking, and pick up your prescription while you’re at the grocery store, no problem.

So while I usually enjoy going to grocery stores in foreign countries—you never know just what you might find, and it always provides a bit of insight into the country you’re visiting—I don’t particularly enjoy American supermarkets. Grocery shopping takes forever. I have to compare prices and compare nutrition facts. I have to try to calculate the actual savings of driving to another store that has better prices on certain items in regards to the cost of gas and the value of my time. It’s just not fun.

Thus you’d probably think that being that Jeff and I are currently on vacation—enjoying the beach at Pawleys Island, SC—I’d probably not be very happy about having to go to the grocery store. But you’d be wrong. I actually enjoyed it. First of all, the store is called Piggly Wiggly, which is without a doubt the best name for a grocery store. I saw that they were selling shirts with the mascot pig on it, and I must say, I’m tempted to go back and buy one. Secondly, though American supermarkets are pretty standardized, there are some differences. For instance, in the produce section of the Piggly Wiggly I found boiled peanuts and packages of collards and mustard greens. We are, indisputably, in the south. The Jefferson Davis Memorial Highway and the Confederate flag rafts only served to back that up. The blazing sun that left my legs and my knee in particular (odd, I know) a fiery shade of red provided final confirmation.

Anyhow, what items in your grocery store give away your location? And what is the weirdest thing you’ve found in a foreign grocery store?

• Food
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Theresa March 16th, 2008

Yesterday, on the final full day of my brother Matthew’s visit, I took him to one of my favorite DC spots—Eastern Market. Though a fire destroyed the historic hall that housed the heart of the market about a year ago, the market is still going strong. Every day of the week, you’ll find in the inside section (now housed in a temporary building), butchers, fishmongers, pasta makers, and bakers, serving up incredibly fresh products. It’s a treat just to walk through and see food without all the plastic wrap and labeling introduced by the grocery stores. On weekends, in the outdoor sections, you’ll find farm stands, artisans, and flea market booths. I love to meander through, sampling the produce, marveling at some of the flea market oddities, and wishing I had more money than I do so I could buy the jewelry, photographs, and other artworks on sale. In honor of my birthday, I went ahead and splurged yesterday and bought a necklace from one of my favorite vendors, Andrea Haffner. She casts dried flowers in resin to create gorgeous pendants. I’d bought them as gifts before, but never one for myself, and this time I just couldn’t resist.

The reasons I love Eastern Market are myriad, but what it really boils down to is its authenticity. It’s not packaged or produced, not really all that predictable. There’s never a guarantee that a certain vendor will be there, but there’s always a guarantee that I’ll find something interesting. In the permanent hall, the vendors are third and fourth generation. The people selling you slabs of beef, your Thanksgiving turkey, or a slice of cake know the history of this city and this market better than anyone. There are stories here. And though the stories at Eastern Market are the stories of DC, there are thousands of markets around the world with millions of stories to be told.

Just tonight, I put on an old episode of No Reservations. By random chance, I chose the Jamaica episode, and though I faded in and out of paying attention to the show, I was listening when Bourdain visited a market and noted that he thinks it is one of the first things you should do when you visit a city to really get a feel for the place. I wholeheartedly agree. In my travels, I love to seek out markets.

In Freiburg, Germany, a daily market took place right outside the cathedral. It was there that I first encountered white spargel, and I made many a lunch out of the wursts being cooked up on the spot. The aroma was impossible to resist. At Barcelona’s Mercat de la Boqueria, I had my first blood orange, beginning an addiction that I just can’t kick. And every Friday in Athens, I made my way to my neighborhood laiki (farmer’s market), a street full of tents where I bought the spinach I would use to make my first spanakopita and where my “tomato man” (see second picture below) helped me pick out the perfect cucumbers for tzatziki. I never felt more integrated into Greek society than when I was at the laiki. After just a few weeks, the vendors would recognize me, welcome me, and always, always, always sneak a little extra something into my bag after I’d already picked out and paid for what I wanted. It’s too bad my grocery store here doesn’t do that.

But it’s not only when I’m abroad that I seek out markets. In Philadelphia, we spent way more time than we had planned wandering around the Reading Terminal Market, and I always try to make it to the Bainbridge Island Farmer’s Market when we visit Jeff’s parents. If we have time, we also take a trip to Pike’s Place Market and maybe even the Ballard and Fremont neighborhood markets. Really, I never get tired of them.

And though I must admit that food markets are my favorite, I’m a sucker for any type of market. In Cairo, I loved getting lost in the alleys of Khan el-Khalili, bargaining for mother-of-pearl chess sets and inlaid plates. And I don’t think I ever went downtown in Athens, without visiting Monastiraki, where you never knew what you might find. Once, spread out on a blanket with dishes and toys was a dildo. Odd indeed. Another time, in a bowl of old coins was a brand new American quarter. Out of curiosity we asked the seller how much he wanted for it, and after studying it for a moment (obviously having no idea what it was), he asked us for 2 euro. We passed. Even in the days of decent exchange rates, an American quarter wasn’t worth that.

Once we set out on our big adventure, I’ll be on the lookout for great markets, and you can count on me narrating many a visit along with my first tastes of new fruits and vegetables or my super bargain purchases. So that I don’t miss any must-see markets, I’ve been doing a little research, and I came across this list from Food & Wine magazine, detailing 25 top food markets, including five that we may make it to: Singapore’s Kreta Ayer Wet Market; Old Delhi, India’s Chandni Chowk; Picsac, Peru’s Sunday Market; Santiago, Chile’s Mercado Central; and Manaus, Brazil’s Mercado Municipal. But I know there are more great markets out there.

So tell me, what’s your favorite market? Even if it’s not in a location we plan to visit on this trip, go ahead and let me know about it. I’ll start taking notes for our next go-round.

• Food , Non-RTW Travel
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Jeff March 4th, 2008

A few of you have probably heard that I’m back in Stockholm now for about a month to tie up some loose ends, finish up my classes, etc. The trip over was, as usual, uneventful, but I think I’ve finally given up on trying to sleep on flights over to Europe. It never seems to work. I’m better off just staying up the whole time, making sure I stay up the next day no matter how tired I am, and get to bed at a normal time and all is right with the world on day 2. So be it. It means I can watch more movies (I got to check out the Oscar contenders Michael Clayton and Atonement on the way over … they were both excellently done … planes may be the only way I see movies anymore).

But anyway, thats not what I really wanted to discuss. I wanted to continue the trend of food related posting. It’s often a goal of the backpacking types (i.e. us) to cook meals while on the road to accomplish a couple of things: reduce costs, feel more like a local and at home, venture into some “less touristy” areas, etc. I think reduce costs might be the main one. Now I have always kind of gone along with this mantra, but really thought of it in the more idealized sense (kind of like many Americans treat cooking their own food … a rarity).

But I’m proud to say that with minimal ingredients and minimal effort (and minimal costs) I have managed to do my own cooking so far over here and been very pleased with the results. And we’re not talking ramen here. I’ve been having salami and brie sandwiches for lunch (one of my favorites ever). Last night I prepared some pasta with some homemade sauce combining crushed tomatoes, brie for creaminess, arugula for spice and meatballs for, well, meat. I had a delicious spinach and arugula salad two nights ago. Tonight I made tacos (though I was missing mexican cheese … ’twas a shame). And I’ve got some barbecue pork ribs and our chorizo soup in mind soon too. All easy to make and without needing many ingredients or time to prepare. And a lot cheaper than eating out in Stockholm, where meals start at $25 and McDonald’s is at least $10. I just thought I would share my success with all of you. I’d have taken pictures for some nice food porn for everyone, but I was too busy eating =).  Point is, it’s a very doable thing, me being able to pull it off proves that beyond a doubt. We’ll see how well it carries on over the whole month though, my enthusiasm for cooking has been known to wane quickly.

The one issue I’ve noticed, though, is what to do with leftovers. Fortunately, there’s a fair bit of tupperware around here for me to put my things in, but that’s not likely the case at hostels/budget hotels. I guess you just have to eat it all in one sitting. Or carry around a big plastic case with you. Or give it to all the poor, dirty and hungry fellow travelers.

The other thing I’m enjoying about staying here right now is that any time of day or night I’m literally steps away from a machine who’s sole job it is to make me a cup of delicious hot chocolate (it makes coffee for the Swedes, but I don’t drink that stuff). So culinarily, I’m living pretty good right now.

• Food , Non-RTW Travel
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Jeff February 28th, 2008

We cook at home almost every night, making a wide variety of food. We’ve found recipes we love for some great American Italian, Mexican, Chinese, and Indian recipes, and the list goes on. But one thing we have so far failed to make well is the Thai rice noodle dish Pad Thai. It’s one of my favorite foods, dating back to my first exposure to it at Sawadty Thai Cuisine in my hometown. After our latest failure, Theresa vowed not to try anymore and anytime we wanted any we would go to a Thai restaurant. So we went out for dinner tonight at a nice little Thai restaurant near us. And we got to talking about all the delicious foods we’re going to eat on our trip. There’s the steaks in Argentina, the roasted chickens in Peru, the curries and noodle dishes of Thailand, the Pho of Vietnam, the coolness of Ethiopian food (though Theresa is not a fan). It was quite an appetizing discussion, but we weren’t able to come to any conclusion of what we were most looking forward to. So we’re posing the question to you. Where in the world do you think (or know) the food is the best?

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