Travel

When I landed in Israel I had no idea what to expect. I was there on a Birthright-Taglit trip through Israel Outdoors, an organization that sends Jewish youth to Israel to study the history of the land and the Jewish people.

I set no expectations for my adventure. I simply wanted to take this leap of faith, take advantage of this truly once in a lifetime experience, and see what the opportunity had to offer.

Simply put, I was floored by my experience. The people, the food, the hikes, our group. Everything and everyone inspired me to push myself, soak in as much as I could, and appreciate this beautiful land.

Our first meal was breakfast at a kibbutz. Tables were laden with platters of vegetables, hummus, labne, baba ganoush, eggs, and Turkish coffee. I couldn’t believe my luck! What flavors! What generosity! I filled my plate up with a sampling of every dish they had to offer. And, I do believe I helped myself to two fragrant cups of Turkish coffee. 

From Casablanca on the coast to the inland city of Fez in the northern part of Morocco, the area looks very much like the American Southwest.

Looking out the window of the van, there's not much to see.

A well-paved highway cuts through the flat, dusty farmland, passing villages remarkable only for the number of flat roofed houses with satellite dishes and the occasional donkey cart.

I'm with a group of travel and food writers visiting Morocco. Some of us are here for the first time.

Before we leave Casablanca we stop at the Mosque Hassam II, the 3rd largest mosque in the world, the largest in Morocco.

The scale of the doors makes visitors look very small. The detailing on tiles and metal work on the tall doorways is beautiful. The mosque overlooks the breakwater and harbor. A few blocks away, restaurants and clubs share the same view. We grab a quick breakfast after our all-night flight before we climb in the van for a three hour drive.

Last week I went on a cruise with my family. One night, before dinner I ordered a "Maker's and soda" from the Indonesian bartender.

"Grey Goose?"

She'd misunderstood me. I clarified and she poured me some whiskey.

At dinner I ordered a second drink from another Indonesian bartender. The drink came back looking much clearer than normal.

It tasted like high-end vodka. He'd made the same mistake as his paisano.

Why? Several hypotheses...

Most of my travel is food focused. I’m headed somewhere to meet people who make interesting food tied to a place and to taste that food. Over the past decade I find that the line between vacation, educational junket and personal exploration has blurred. If I travel with food friends then we tend to be like dogs searching for the same tasty bone to turn up. It can get weirdly competitive or punishingly about the next bite even when enough bites have been had by all.

When I started traveling as a kid I wandered. Often I traveled alone, free to choose this road at that speed to stop and see this thing, sink into the culture of that place and eat those dishes. They were my decisions at my pace. No “have to” or “can’t miss”, just wandering and discovery. I miss those days. Of course time tends to be an impediment. I don’t have an extra five or six weeks to spare anymore, so focus is to often at the root of today’s travel.

But, recently a friend (who loves to cook, but is not a foodie) took possession of a long sought shack on the beach in the Pacific Northwest of Costa Rica. She was taking the first trip back to see how the beginnings of rebuilding the shack were going and to install her 21 yr old son for a two-month stay as “remodeling supervisor”. Would I come along?