I Know It's Not About Food, But...

It's been three months ALREADY?!?!

Where does the time go?? It seems like just yesterday that I was home in Seattle, sweating over my Brasilan visa and packing my medicine bag full of ORS and pepto. And now here I am, in a town in South Africa which I had never even heard of before leaving Seattle (Nelspruit) with a bus ticket for tomorrow afternoon to a country which I had no intention of visitng (Mozambique) after traveling for four days with a person I didn't know existed until last week (Barry) to a park which I never though I would be able to afford to see (Kruger). 

The really monumental thing about 3 months is that, once I reach 3 months + 1 day, it will be the LONGEST I have ever been gone from home (with the previous title-holder being my 3 months in India in 2009. Yes, that's right - in just a couple of days, I will have been gone on this trip longer than I was in India! Whaaa??) It also means that after one more month, my trip is (theoretically) halfway through, which is actually a little bit panic-inducing because there is still so much to see and do. 

So, what have I been up to for the past three months? Let's take a look at the numbers:

Countries Visited: 5

Cities Visited: 17

New FB Friends: 57

Hostels: 15

Hotels or Guesthouses: 6 (all with my mom) 

Couches: 4

Campsites: 4

Longest Trip So Far: 33 hour bus from Buenos Aires to Sao Paulo

UNESCO World Heritage Sites Seen: 3

Colds/Flus: 1

Steaks Eaten: At least 5

Cheapest Mango: $0.50USD

Stomach Illnesses: 0... so far

Mosquitoes Which Bit Me Right Inbetween My Eyebrows: 2

Bus Accidents: 1

Number of Days Which Warranted a Jacket: Less than 7

Pairs of Underwear as of March: 4

Pairs of Underwear as of April: 6

Pairs of Underwear as of May: 2 (I don't understand either)

Photos Taken: Over 1000

Tattoos Obtained: 1

Times I Have Been Chosen as an Unwilling Volunteer for Some Type of Performance: 3

New Greetings Learned: 4

Books in My Backpack: 5

National Parks Visited: 6

Dances I Have Received Spontaneous Instruction In: 4

Lions Seen: 10

Constellations Learned Which are Not Visible in the Northern Hemisphere: 2

Current Distance from Home: 10338 miles/16636 kilometers

Familiar Faces Seen: 3 (1 unexpectedly) 

Months Left: 5 minimum

Countries Which I Have Single Handedly Brought Peace and Propserity To: At least 58

Times I Have Thought "There is Nowhere Else I Would Rather Be Right Now": Countless


Stay tuned my food-happy friends! Baboutie, Peri-Peri Prawns, Bunny Chow, and more deliciousness is headed your way soon! 

Food, Community, and District Six

Photo stolen without permission from flickr as an artistic protest in solidarity with the former residents of District Six. Yeah, thats it, artistic protest... 

I went to the District Six museum today with my mother in Cape Town, South Africa.

District Six was (big emphasis on the was) a thriving, multicultural community in the heart of Cape Town where, ex-residents reminisce, you could find or do anything. Though relatively poor and with some serious crime problems, the District was a dear home to thousands upon thousands of black and "coloured" (their term, not mine) South Africans for decades, and for many, was a crucial part of their identity.

That is, until white South Africans decided that the District posed a "health and safety" risk to the rest of Cape Town, forcibly removed over 60,000 inhabitants, demolished their homes and businesses, and declared it a "whites-only" zone. Reparations for this atrocity, committed a little over forty years ago, are still underway, and it wasn't until 2004 that the first original residents were allowed to return. District Six has become something of a figurehead for the tragedies of apartheid, and the entire story is immortalized in the museum.

So, what does this have to do with food? A common element to the museum was pictures and interviews with former residents, and in the vast majority of these, I couldn't help but notice the crucial role that food and kitchens continued to play. Again and again, people remembered watching their mothers' stand at the stove; entire families congregating in the kitchen; celebratory feasts; conversing over dinner with neighbors and friends; buying cheap fish to take to the movies and share with the entire front row; the old woman who used to sell peanuts on the corner.

Of the millions of interesting things that undoubtedly happened everday in District Six, it was these almost mundane memories which the residents chose to share again and again.

This, I believe, is not unintentional or coincidental.

It's true, I think, that our homes and neighborhoods give us identity. They are our original foundation from which we draw our sense of self, and from which we orient ourselves toward the rest of the world. And what makes you recognize home more than the smells of your favorite food from childhood, or the sight of your family preparing a holiday meal? What feels better than going into a neighborhood restaurant which you've frequented for years and knowing the servers by name? Or going into the corner shop or super market or farmer's market or gas station or whatever it is that you have that provides you sustenance and knowing exactly - exactly! - where to find the food or drink that you're after?

This is what makes us know that we are home.

And sharing these things with others - opening our tables to them, opening our kitchens to them, exchanging recipes with them, bringing them food in times of tragedy or economic hardship - this is what makes us know that we are not just a bunch of individuals living near each other but that we are, in fact, a community. And I believe that it is this same sense which the former residents of District Six were tapping into again and again in their interviews.

Food = community. That connection is something which nobody can touch, not even the cruel ruling elite.

And thank god for that.

Chip-On-a-Stick

What is it? Chip-On-a-Stick

Okay, but whas IS it? Seattle friends, do you remember the short-lived but insanely delicious pornado, a spiralized deep fried potato on a stick sold by a single shop in the University District which sadly went out of business nary two weeks after opening?

Well. It's. Back.

And just as Lord Voldemort had to stay in hiding whilst regaining his strength to fight Harry Potter, so too has the "pornado" apparently begun to rebuild itself in quiet, unassuming Cape Town.

For my non-Seattle friends, Chip-On-a-Stick (or should I say pornado?! Yeah, I'm on to you buddy) is a big long wooden dowel with a thickly-cut, spiral-sliced, deep-fried, potato wrapped around it. It is, essentially, home made potato chips... on a stick (because doesn't everything good in life come on a stick?) After frying it before your very eyes, the lovely staff offers you a variety of seasoning salts to choose from - everything from chutney, to barbecue, to peri-peri, which is a spicy Southern African pepper. After asking for some recommendations, I settled on the US favorite of salt and vinegar.Yummm.

What circumstances led to heaven on a stick? My mom and I spent the afternoon at the aquarium in Cape Town listening to the emperor penguins cackle raucously, laughing at the dangerously bold yellow fins, and trying desperately to get a good photo of the camera-shy turtles. Though we planned on getting lunch after our visit, a sudden downturn in the weather led us to this quick (but delicious) snack to tide us over until things got better and we could get a decent meal. Paired with a gray sea-salted caramel, which my mother brought me from Seattle as a lovely belated Easter surprise, it was quite the lunch.

Where can I get some? From the sidewalk in The V&A Waterfront in Cape Town, South Africa.

How much did it cost? $1.50USD, though I suspect it would be far cheaper in a less touristy area. Either way, I think the joy on my face in the above photo attests to the fact that $1.50USD was totally worth it.

Summing up My Impressions of Brasil, Argentina, and Chile in One Word and One Dish Each

*Disclaimer: I know that it is entirely impossible, and even somewhat inappropriate, to "sum up" an entire nation into a single word or a dish, and I am in no way trying to pretend that by spending a total of two months between the three aforementioned countries that I have even the slightest grasp on any of them. This post is just about my limited impressions as an outsider based on limited experiences in a limited amount of time in a limited number of cities - so please don't take them too seriously! Also, I stole almost all of the pictures in this post. Really, this entry is just inappropriate on a variety of levels. Forgive me? 


Brasil - Sultry - The Caipirinha

Rio de Janeiro in March is hot, and humid, and no matter where you go you to seem to always be within feet of a gorgeous, white sanded beach.The scenery is lush, the air carries the fragrance of tropical flowers, the mangos are juicy - you know, the kind of place where sweating looks less like this...

Ew. Sorry to single you out dude, but don't worry, I only have like 6 readers.

...and more like this...

Oh c'mon lady, that's not even fair. And why does this come from a site called fugly.com?!

Couple all of this with thong bikinis and strangers making out at Carnivale, and I'd say you've got yourself one heck of a sultry city. And surely, no drink is more sultry than the caipirinha.

If you've never had a caipirnha before: make one. Now. I'll wait. Here's a recipe:  http://allrecipes.com//Recipe/caipirinha/Detail.aspx.

For those of you without the time, money, or motivation, the caipirinha is made with lime, fermented sugar cane (you can use rum instead), sugar, and ice. It's sweet, but it's got a bite. It's refreshing, but distinctly tropical. On a hot day, the glass glistens sexily with condensation, much like the nice lady pictured above. It's sultry. It's a caipirinha. And just to prove how Brasilian the caipirinha is, when I searched for "delicious caipirinha" pictures on Google Images, the Brasilian flag popped up on the first page. Followed closely by naked women. Rule 34.

Argentina - Passionate - Asado 

I took exactly four days of Spanish classes whilst in South America, and though I struggled immensely with the new universe of grammar and vocabulary, I found myself particularly struck by a conversation between my professor and the one other student in my class.

"Why do you like Spanish?" My teacher asked my fellow classmate.

"Because Spanish is the language of love," she replied. My teacher looked confused.

"But isn't French the language of love?" He wondered.

"No," she responded. "French is a language that you speak sitting back. Yes, it's intimate, but it's also a whisper, almost hesitant. Spanish is a language that you speak sitting forward. It's passionate. It's love."

Perhaps in no other place did I understand this better than in Argentina, where the people were so passionate that I once watched my bus driver stop in the middle of the road, open his door, and begin to yell in heated Spanish at a taxi driver who had cut him off. The art is passionate, the music is passionate, the lovers are passionate, and the meat - the meat is very passionate.

Look at the above pictured piece of grilled perfection, for example: still just a little bloody, dripping with juicy anguish, undoubtedly prepared by a master asador grill operator. It's hearty, it's mildly raw, and it's just a little bit bad for you but in a way that's oh-so-good-for-the-soul. It's the kind of meat that turns a vegetarian into a carnivore - and if that ain't passion, then I don't know what is.

Chile - Quirky - Pastel de Choclos 

Clearly, I do not have a future in computer-generated graphic design

OK, assigning Pastel de Choclos as the food most representative of my impression of Chile is not entirely fair since I rather enjoyed Chile but I hated - hated - Pastel de Choclos. 

Let's be clear right now: I've eaten some weird things in my life. Raw snails, duck feet, congealed blood sausages... but this was one of two things ever which made me feel like I might vomit. 

Literally translated, Pastel de Choclos means "cake of corn" of "corn cake." But don't be fooled! This isn't a delicious chili accompaniment, or some long-lost cousin of carrot cake. This is the devil. 

Please note my above diagram, which I was not able to properly label due to computer illiteracy. On the bottom layer are some chopped onions which, in the one pastel de choclos that I had, were slimy and bitter. On top lies some ground mystery meat which I was promised was ground beef but was so distinctly gray in color that I feared it was actually rotten oysters (or insert your own disgusting, gray-colored food here). Next, we have three hilariously placed food items: an entire chicken leg, including the bone; one whole boiled egg; and one - just one! - olive, pit and all. Then, the entire thing is covered with candy-sweet mushed corn that would be far, far more fitting as a dessert than as something to top assorted meats. As an added bonus, the pastel de choclos that I ate was still half frozen, so everything was the same, disgusting, wet texture. For the love of god, do not try to add sauce or ketchup to fix things... it will only make it worse. 

So, if I enjoyed Chile but I hated Pastel de Choclos, why I am choosing this food to represent my impression of that country? Because Chile, just like a casserole which tastes like dessert on top but then includes just a single olive underneath, is quirky. What else can be said of country where one day you are in the mountains drinking wine and eating escargot, and where the next day you are listening to Cypress Hill celebrate the fact that they are, indeed, "Insane in the Membrane?" Where people have puppet shows at dusk for children; the most common hot dog is topped with tomatoes, avocados, and mayonnaise; pizza comes with optional banana; and people tie silk ropes into park trees on Sundays to practice aerial circus arts? Where men make jobs out of selling soy burgers and sushi from iceboxes in front of subway stations, and where homeless girls juggle in the crosswalks at red lights for spare change? It's just quirky - weird, but in a delightfully fun way. Go if you have the chance.

But do yourself a favor: stick to the sopapillas. Not only will you save money, but you'll prevent a whole lot of tummy ache as well.

Plate by Weight

What is it? Plate by Weight

Okay, but what IS it? A very popular lunchtime favorite in Brasil, plate by weight is basically a big ol' buffet of deliciousness, but instead of a set price for everything you pay based on the weight of what you take (which I imagine must be very effective at reducing uneaten food waste!) Honestly, I have no clue what exactly was on my plate in terms of dish names, but starting from the top left and moving counterclockwise we have: grilled chicken, black beans and rice, beef and potatoes, salad, garbanzo beans, and an itsy bitsy sausage. I hope you can all appreciate that this former vegan now routinely eats three different animals in one meal.

My god, what circumstances led to a 19 lb (9 kg) plate of food? First off can I just say that 19 lbs (9 kg) INCLUDES the weight of the plate, not just the food? With only one day to see Sao Paulo, I decided to spend the morning in Ibirapuera Park, which houses the Museu de Arte Moderna de Sao Paulo (the Modern Art Museum, which had a huge exhibit on sustainable architecture) and the Museu Afro Brasil (Afro-Brasilian Museum). My appreciation for both museums was, perhaps, undermined slightly by the very intense caffeine tremors I couldn't stop experiencing after having two cups of real Brasilian coffee in the morning, without milk. The coffee must have affected my heart or my metabolism or something, because by the time my buddy and I finally found this place to eat, I am confident that I easily could have finished a 19 lb (9 kg) plate of food, even if the weight of said lunch did NOT include the weight of the plate.

Where can I get some? Like I said, the plate by weight deal is pretty popular all over Brasil. This particular one came from a shop on a side street in a less-touristy part of Sao Paulo.

How much did it cost? The price per kilogram varies tremendously depending on which restaurant you go to, the quality of food they are serving, and the neighborhood the restaurant is located in. This place was 2 reais/kilogram, and because they subtracted the weight of my plate from the total cost, it came out to something like $5 or $6 USD. Not too shabby for a city whose cheapest hostels are still at least $17USD a night!