On The Potato Bus To A Potluck Adventure
December 15th, 2010 11:35 AM
Many of the best eating adventures fall into the “pot-luck” category. You and your fellow travelers contribute according to tastes, and you get an eclectic gastronomic dining adventure.
Another kind of pot-luck, when travelling on your own or with a small group, is to go to the market, buy the local ingredients, bring them back and cook. You’ve already tried local eateries and now want to create something yourself -- a self-made meal that’s fantastic and memorable.
On one trip to Greece, I learned how simple it was to barbeque an octopus, if you have lots of olive oil, lemons and Domestica wine. The difficult part is capturing the octopus and tenderizing it by dashing it endlessly against a rock. Fortunately, the local market fisherman had already handled those chores.
Sometimes, the pot-luck is in the adventure of getting a special food.
In a small coastal village in Bengal, India, concocting my own version of curry accompaniment, I felt the need to cook some potatoes. After only a week there, I was just coming to terms with the currency and customs. The potatoes were available in a town 11 km away.
The villagers advised me about the local bus and pointed me to the place to the stop. Ultimately, the bus arrived -- schedules there were more guidelines than commitments. I sat on the bus near the driver waiting to depart, but soon gave the seat to a woman in greater need and prepared to stand for the journey. Six foot two under a five foot eight ceiling, I quickly realized this was going to be uncomfortable. I noticed some of the men outside scampering up a ladder at the back of bus to sit on the roof. There was my solution.
I sat cross-legged with my back to the wind to avoid any collisions with bugs and enjoyed the breeze. We stopped to pick up more passengers, and to wait through the driver’s lunch break.
Tall and obviously a foreigner, I was becoming accustomed to being stared at. It was no different on the roof of the bus. I tried a few simple phrases and lots of hand movement, but couldn’t really converse.
Suddenly, the man nearest to me leaned forward and pulled me forward by the scruff of my shirt.
Then I felt leaves brush the back of my head and when I looked up, a low hanging limb was receding behind the bus. This seemed like a good time to turn around and face in the direction we were traveling. Most of the rest of the journey was spent thanking my saviour.
At the market, I made my way to a small stand featuring potatoes – the purpose of my journey. The young woman there looked like a reasonable candidate to hone my bargaining skills -- one of the villagers coach me on how to count to 20 in Bengali -- and I felt confident that I would gain the upper hand.
The negotiations commenced.
The banter between the shopkeeper and me became animated. We soon drew a small group of onlookers. I tried to ease things and distract her with humorous antics but she had a face of stone and was intensely focused on the task at hand, to separate me from as many Rupees as she could.
Things took a turn when her bids began to go up, and I didn’t notice. But I happily paid realizing that a master negotiator had outclassed me… and knowing she would be making even more money for her family when she turned seven.
Adventures in eating often include adventures in finding and creating. Create some adventures of your own when you travel.
(Henrik Nielsen is and independent travel consultant and freelance writer. info@talktohenrik.com www.talktohenrik.com
Copyright North Shore Magazine Issue Aug - Sep 08
Another kind of pot-luck, when travelling on your own or with a small group, is to go to the market, buy the local ingredients, bring them back and cook. You’ve already tried local eateries and now want to create something yourself -- a self-made meal that’s fantastic and memorable.
On one trip to Greece, I learned how simple it was to barbeque an octopus, if you have lots of olive oil, lemons and Domestica wine. The difficult part is capturing the octopus and tenderizing it by dashing it endlessly against a rock. Fortunately, the local market fisherman had already handled those chores.
Sometimes, the pot-luck is in the adventure of getting a special food.
In a small coastal village in Bengal, India, concocting my own version of curry accompaniment, I felt the need to cook some potatoes. After only a week there, I was just coming to terms with the currency and customs. The potatoes were available in a town 11 km away.
The villagers advised me about the local bus and pointed me to the place to the stop. Ultimately, the bus arrived -- schedules there were more guidelines than commitments. I sat on the bus near the driver waiting to depart, but soon gave the seat to a woman in greater need and prepared to stand for the journey. Six foot two under a five foot eight ceiling, I quickly realized this was going to be uncomfortable. I noticed some of the men outside scampering up a ladder at the back of bus to sit on the roof. There was my solution.
I sat cross-legged with my back to the wind to avoid any collisions with bugs and enjoyed the breeze. We stopped to pick up more passengers, and to wait through the driver’s lunch break.
Tall and obviously a foreigner, I was becoming accustomed to being stared at. It was no different on the roof of the bus. I tried a few simple phrases and lots of hand movement, but couldn’t really converse.
Suddenly, the man nearest to me leaned forward and pulled me forward by the scruff of my shirt.
Then I felt leaves brush the back of my head and when I looked up, a low hanging limb was receding behind the bus. This seemed like a good time to turn around and face in the direction we were traveling. Most of the rest of the journey was spent thanking my saviour.
At the market, I made my way to a small stand featuring potatoes – the purpose of my journey. The young woman there looked like a reasonable candidate to hone my bargaining skills -- one of the villagers coach me on how to count to 20 in Bengali -- and I felt confident that I would gain the upper hand.
The negotiations commenced.
The banter between the shopkeeper and me became animated. We soon drew a small group of onlookers. I tried to ease things and distract her with humorous antics but she had a face of stone and was intensely focused on the task at hand, to separate me from as many Rupees as she could.
Things took a turn when her bids began to go up, and I didn’t notice. But I happily paid realizing that a master negotiator had outclassed me… and knowing she would be making even more money for her family when she turned seven.
Adventures in eating often include adventures in finding and creating. Create some adventures of your own when you travel.
(Henrik Nielsen is and independent travel consultant and freelance writer. info@talktohenrik.com www.talktohenrik.com
Copyright North Shore Magazine Issue Aug - Sep 08
