Aug. 13th, 2005, 7:51 p.m.
A few humble suggestions:
Don't eat pizza in Argentina.
Eat a lot of pizza in Naples.
Don't get margaritas in Israel.
Eat avocados in Chile.
Eat fondue in Switzerland.
Don't get risotto in an Indian restaurant.
Eat mangos in Costa Rica.
Don't eat mangos in England.
Don't get sushi in Geneva.
Don't get shave ice outside of Hawai'i.
Don't order salad in Kyoto.
Get the clam chowder in Newport, RI.
Don't eat bread in Tokyo. In fact, don't ever eat bread in Japan.
Eat the bread in Paris.
Eat the rice in Korea.
Avoid the rice in Europe.
Always get dessert in France.
Don't eat Italian food in Japan.
Drink sangria in Barcelona.
Don't drink sangria in the States.
Eat Mexican food in California.
Don't ever eat Mexican food in Spain.
Get whatever you want in NYC.
And when in Rome, eat the pasta and drink the wine.
Advice as much for me as those who read it: embrace the specialities of the place you are in. Learn to love what they love, because they probably love it for a reason. Stop trying to make the place you are in fit your tastes; try making your tastes fit the place you are in. If you are in Switzerland craving a mango, get some of their delicious petite mandarin oranges instead. When you're in the land of rice and beans (Central America), don't try and find bread. If it's a staple, it's a staple for a reason: because it's there in abundance, which not only makes it cheap, but it makes it delicious, because it's locally grown and the locals know how to cook it. I have done most of the things on the above list: I have ordered sushi in Geneva (big mistake), Italian food in Japan (bigger mistake), Mexican food in Barcelona (biggest mistake), and they were some of the most disappointing culinary experiences I have ever had. However, I have also had takoyaki in Osaka, batidos in Montezuma (Costa Rica), hummus and falafel in Tel Aviv, an English breakfast in Leeds, gelatto in the Italian alps, bibinbop in Seoul, nutella crepes in Paris, salad with goat cheese and caramelized walnuts in California, papayas in Kailua, fresh mozzarella in Florence, tamarinds in St. Thomas, and hot chocolate in Lyon, and those were some of the best gastronomical experiences of my life.
In this vein, I just wanted to mention that the Argentinian specialty is called a parilla. It's essentially an upscale grill, and here in Argentina they are quite famous for their meat. Apparently the grilled meat is to die for. I've been to two parillas so far, though, and they also make an excellent grilled vegetable platter: carrots, eggplant, pumpkin, zucchini, onions, and tomatoes grilled until they are tender and smoky. Hint: If you ever come here, frequent parillas and NOT the ubiquitous yet ultimately unsatisfying pizza places. Ugh.
Also - why is it that everyone in the entire world eats pumpkin except Americans? I've literally eaten pumpkin as a vegetable in Japan, Europe, and the Middle East. They make it into soup, grill it, serve it in lasagna the way we do with eggplant, and any host of other recipes. It's a delicious savory vegetable - why do we only put it in pies? Did that idea just never make it over the pond? Oh, and speaking of not making it over the pond, why is peanut butter only a staple in the U.S. (and Canada)? It's so *delicious* ... . The few universals I have found in my travels are: chocolate.
Another interesting food/drink note is that Argentinians (and many south americans, including Uruguayans as well) drink something called té mate, which is their local tea, only they don't strain it before they put it in the cup. Instead, they all drink it with a special straw that has a strainer on the end of it; so the tea is filtered through your straw when you sip it, instead of before.
Language spot:
Instead of vale, which is the all-purpose Spanish (as in from Spain) word for "ok" or "I got it", they say dale. They don't use it all the time, but they do use it enough that for the first few weeks I was confused. Also, instead of vale or dale, they often say listo, which means "ready."
In both Japan and Germany, you say "I see" by saying "Ach soo." (or "Ah sou" in Japan). Imagine my surprise when I first heard my friend speaking German and their speech was sprinkled with the same phrase as my Japanese friends. At first I thought it was just an extremely odd and eerie coincidence, until I learned that it is because Dutch missionaries came to Japan in the 1600s and brought this expression, which has remained until today. By the way, this is about the only thing that makes it easy for Germans to learn Japanese, or vice versa.
