dinner around the world

these memories are dedicated to my parents, without whom i never would have been in attendance on these trips. thank you for never limiting my possibilities in life. the experiences i have had while traveling shaped me for the better, molding my perspective into a more informed, empathetic one. because you both were not able to accompany me on most of these trips, i have described for you my experience having dinner in all of these places, the concluding point of the day.

• campfire conversations that begin with light questions like “if you could be an animal, which would you be?” that turn into penetrating revelations about one’s home life. breathing in glacial air, which causes your lungs to take on a new performance ability. walking and walking miles and miles, not knowing when the trail would end but also not caring. there is contentment in the isolation, in the untouched wilderness, in the tent you pitch each night that has become your sanctuary. moonlit laughter. moments of silence so peaceful you forget you are with people. communal task-sharing. i chopped the vegetables. violet made the fire. stephen cooked the meat. others made the rice, cleaned the dishes, put love and labor into this meal. this is dinner (while backpacking) in alaska.
• navigating through narrow alleyways, past sleeping cats in window sills and tiny cars that only rise the height of your chest. drinking too much wine and eating too much bread. being the table with the loudest laughter in the entire restaurant. hearing an accordion player in the distance. lights strung above our table, enveloping the restaurant patrons in a warmth that almost feels like actual heat. this is dinner in rimini, italy.
• truffle pizza. stale conversation. two bottles of prosecco. wishing the hostess knew your name like she did all the regulars. saying “cheers” in three different languages. this is dinner in carcassonne, france.
• humid heat in the air, battling for relevance as night falls and the sweet ocean air takes its place. young people all around you sharing beverages on the sand and walking to a place you wish you were invited to. the taco stand that is always busy but the employees never rush you. chipotle aioli, pickled vegetables, homemade corn tortillas, tequila, salt. this is dinner in barcelona, spain.
• marc’s rooftop. playing cards and drinking wine and eating take-out sushi from that place down the street, only a trolley station away. getting to know my friends and their countries of origin. sharing truths about my own. wishing it wouldn’t end but knowing it has to. studying abroad derives its sweetness from its impermanency. this is dinner in melbourne, australia.
• solo traveling in a different country for the first time. solitude takes on a new meaning. i’ll never again take for granted the ability to pick up the phone and call a friend to get coffee in the same city. approaching the hostess and requesting a table for one. not knowing if i should read or journal or simply sit and take in my surroundings during my meal. i take pictures of the decorated food because i have no one present to share in its deliciousness with. i am surprised at how often my quiet mind reverts back to the same thought topics: ex-lovers, my personal to-do list for the moment, and what i have to look forward to next, the next day, the next month, the next year. this is dinner on waiheke island, new zealand.
• inviting the european guys i just met in my hostel to a communal meal put on by some local restaurants. earlier that day i was walking from a coffee shop to a thrift store when my eye caught a poster attached to a street sign advertising this meal where monetary contributions were optional, but recommended. all proceeds go to charity. eating lamb for the first time. meeting strangers. seeing the sky tower through the window. exchanging travel stories and feeling surprisingly close to these people i’ve just met. if you can find things to share laughter over, it will have the effect of performed commonality. this is dinner in auckland, new zealand.
• a buffet of curry with sides of rice and sweet potatoes. conversations on picnic tables. the sea in the background, demanding to be looked at and admired. a room full of ambition and humor and new connections. after the meal i go see arrow with his other fijian friends. i get the privilege of drinking kava in a big circle with them. someone is playing guitar. others are singing. one guy calls me out in his song, attempting to serenade me. i drink the pepper water even though i abhor its taste because i am too grateful to turn it down, to do anything to ruin this bliss. this is dinner on the fiji islands.
• night walks through the rainforest led by max, whose spirit animal assigned to him at age seven is a hummingbird. spotted frogs and alien insects. leaves every shade of green you can imagine. tilapia made by a local chef. sweet plantains for dessert. hearing my group leader speaking fluent spanish, feeling envious of her communication abilities. today was tiring. working in the garden at the nearby school, digging and weeding and planting. this meal is well-earned, the food tastes better because of it. this is dinner in san ramon, costa rica.
• huge windows overlooking lake atitlan. i am eating the spaghetti i’ve been served even though i don’t like the taste of pasta. i am terrified of appearing ungrateful by leaving this meal untouched. so i eat it and pretend to enjoy it. i’m bothered by how short our trip is. how long the suffering is of the children in this orphanage in comparison. and yet i am here a short while as a witness (and hopefully helper) not actually having to participate in any of the trauma. i wish the world was a more equitable place. i am trying to learn everything i can about the people working here long-term. they inspire me to do more, to be more. this is dinner in solola, guatemala.
• sitting oceanside with my family. eating fish tacos with mango salsa. sipping tangy margaritas. the warmth of the sun lights up the table. the first time you have all been together in months. this is dinner in cabo, mexico.
• daytime filled with mountainside hiking. pine trees. fresh air. cold water. people biking all around you, fulfilled. using your body to its fullest extent. ending the day with a restaurant choice decided on by a coin toss. beer and wine and recalling the days’ events through shared humor. this is dinner in whistler, canada.
• classic rock playing on the stereo. jokes being told with such frequency my laughter can’t keep up. homemade pizza. shared labor and love with extended family members. a fire on the back porch, people and beers rotating throughout the night. this is dinner in stanwood, washington.
• walking twelve blocks to the restaurant. city lights and the smell of gasoline and baked bread and ambition. it’s cold outside but i don’t even notice. i’m too busy being enamored with my surroundings. with all there is to take in. to observe. a full meal of pesto pizza and truffle gnocchi and crispy artichokes with lemon aioli. a bottle of wine. maybe two. catching up with my sister on her new life. on the changes in my own. this is dinner in new york city, new york.
• sitting on a street corner with the lights from the eiffel tower illuminating the background. a shared bottle of prosecco with my best friend. the portion sizes are perfect. my stomach is full at just the right capacity. the dad at the table next to us comments to his daughter about how she needs to practice her english, hearing us speak our native tongue. i reply that i need to practice my french. perhaps we could tutor each other. there is friendly smiling exchanged. i feel warm and like i could never get a headache if i lived here. if i ate meals like this every day. not the kind of headaches i get each day back home. i want this so badly to be more than just a vacation, but my daily life. this is dinner in paris, france.
• eating wienerschnitzel in a german-style restaurant. worlds colliding, friends meeting. laughing about the choices that led us here. lemon garnishes and pints of beer. the feeling of nostalgia for when this meal ends, when this trip ends. wanting to be present but knowing it’s my last night here. vermicelles: chestnut puree for dessert. walking home on the damp pavement, the air cool and the feeling of safety engulfing me. this is dinner in zurich, switzerland.
• a rooftop barbecue of new faces and stories. an array of sausage varieties and accompanying sauces to choose from. a fridge full of beer that opens to a new beverage-seeker every few minutes. introducing myself as the young american, sister of the other young american present. thinking that this is what contentment in community feels like. life would feel so full if it was like this every day or every weekend. this is dinner in brussels, belguim.
• the excited anticipation of meeting my sister’s study abroad friends for the first time. wondering how i’ll appear to them with my newly applied red lipstick and sparkly romper, so unlike my usual style, though they wouldn’t know. eating gnocchi and drinking flavored cocktails that are herbal and lightly sweet. the interior of the modern restaurant an earthy, warm pink. imagining myself living here at alex’s age, knowing how happy she is. this is dinner in london, england.
• beachside cocktails while the sun sets, the sky painted shades of pink and blue and orange. tuning in to my final online class via the zoom application on my phone. feeling disoriented if i think too much about the distance between my classmates and myself and the technology still linking us. eating fried seafood and being together as a family for the first time in months. feeling happy for and proud of my brother. im impressed by his bravery in moving to a new state before high school concluded. celebrating his final chapter in this new place. this is dinner in sarasota, florida.
• walking downtown feeling small against the brightly lit skyscrapers surrounding us. being with nina’s friends and eating at her favorite italian restaurant downtown. chewy pizza with melty cheese. walking to whole foods after, picking up dessert and alcoholic kombucha. feeling honored to have access to this part of her life, to eat at a place she’s created so many memories in with people who have starred in so many of her stories she’s told me about growing up here. the feeling of me wanting to see it all and know it all. this is dinner in san francisco, california.
• playing board games and watching ucla football in the living room. the dogs getting the attention they always crave. an orchestra of people cooking and cleaning and manufacturing an assembly line for people to pull food from. the grill steaming and smelling of steak. sitting together in the backyard, some telling jokes and the others laughing at those jokes. this is dinner in golden, colorado.
• walking through the hotel hallways filled with framed pictures of james dean when he starred in a movie filmed on this very property. being with my best friend in an eccentric small town in my home state. getting drunk off glasses of wine and feeling so lucky i met someone who would road trip across half the country with me, who would be kind and understanding through an anxious period of mine. this meal is the first break i feel from the onslaught of repetitive anxious thoughts. this is the beginning of the end of college, the realization hitting me hard. this is dinner in marfa, texas.
• driving to the mockingbird restaurant down the street with the broken “open” neon sign out front. a “making herstory” mural outside. stained glass windows forming the backdrop to the bar. peach puree and crispy friend chicken. trying bourbon for the first time. probing my dad about his new life here, just hoping he’s happy when he wakes up each day. knowing that is enough for me. talking to the bartender about his life and receiving advice on my own. this is dinner in spring hill, tennessee.
• sushi to-go in the airbnb before going out for the night. wandering through the red light district, awestruck at the brazen displays of sexuality. ending up in a locally owned karaoke bar. meeting dutch strangers who share my affinity for craft IPAs. exchanging thoughts about the changing scenery of both their country and ours. reveling in the excitement of so much newness. this is dinner in amsterdam, the netherlands.
• cooking with my roommates. fried cauliflower, biscuits, and coleslaw. candles and dried flowers in old wine bottles decorating the dining table. reciting old stories and forming new inside jokes. the living room covered in golden light from different lamps. hearing cars speed by and students pass our windows on their way into westwood. loving these people so much i can’t believe i’ve met them and know them to this depth. this is dinner in los angeles, california.