One of the first visitors I had in Beirut was a friend of a friend. He was a nice guy, someone I’d always enjoyed hanging out with in college, but things started going south once he met my Lebanese friends.
“I’m up for anything,” he kept saying loudly. It was a weird and forced attitude that certainly didn’t make his trip any more enjoyable. I was confused until I also noticed that he kept mentioning things he saw on TV that had the hallmark of celebrity chef and travel show host Anthony Bourdain.
If you’re reading this you’re probably aware of who Anthony Bourdain is. He’s basically a lesser god to an intersection of those fortunate enough to develop an interest in traveling off the beaten path of white American tourists (Paris and Tuscany) and those who are into food. I’ll be the first to admit that I sometimes fit this description so perfectly that even I have to roll my eyes at myself. I’m working on it.
Part of the appeal of Bourdain is that he appears to be on a mission to bring something that can be described as “the authenticity of the world and self” to a televised audience. This is refreshing to people jaded by the disappointment of tourism – those who are interested in traveling, not going on vacation. Guided by people he refers to as friends, Bourdain travels to places like Ho Chi Min City and Gaza to sample what appears to be the food that people actually eat in these places.
He’ll usually disparage touristy restaurants in favor of street food while subtly putting down American pallets for not liking gelatinous things in a way that gently challenges viewers. It’s very entertaining and the best when you’re hungry. I spent an entire summer blowing through No Reservations (this was before he went on to host other shows) and cooking an insane amount of food and I have probably never had more fun.
Bourdain is all about getting in on a secret with all the attitude that falls somewhere between an old school punk-rocker and a new dad. At one point he compares lobster traps to dead gangsters bobbing in the Croatian Mediterranean. It’s as ridiculous as it is amazing.
But even more importantly, he freely admits – sometimes – that things are staged. There’s the infamous fishing scenes, which he frequently admonishes as staged and awkward over shots of faux surprise.
The problem with this is that once Bourdain breaks down the fourth wall and offers the audience a peek at the camera, it creates the illusion that he and the viewer are on the same level. It’s just two ordinary people who are trying to cut through all the bullshit and see the world for what it really is, man.
This blurring of entertainer and audience has birthed a flock of travelers from the U.S. that assume that they too can be Anthony Bourdain when they go to Turkey or whatever. They aren’t though, for one very obvious reason: they are not on TV.
Traveling is more often than not about being uncomfortable – and being alone in your discomfort. People aren’t always nice and even when they are, you will probably be held to an unwritten set of rules of which you’re completely ignorant and will undoubtedly break.
You’re going to offend people and hopefully you will learn from it. One day you’re going to make some awesome breakthroughs. But before you get to that sweet spot, it’s important to adjust your expectations, especially when it comes to food and the social interactions involved with sharing a meal.
First, don’t expect warm welcomes to be genuine. This is especially true of places that have reputations for being hospitable. Often it’s just a show and the most respectful thing to do is accept graciously, indulge for an appropriate amount of time and move on. Also, keep in mind that norms differ across the globe, so don’t take everything the people you meet while traveling say verbatim. Specifically, don’t assume the words yes and no mean the same thing everywhere you go. And obviously, individual attitudes will sometimes fall outside your expectations, so be prepared for that too. Bone up on your emotional intelligence and learn how to read people.
My second point involves authenticity. Bourdain seems to know just where to go to find that perfect bowl of noodles, and more often than not it’s from somewhere that could be described as a hole-in-the-wall for lack of a better term. There’s a reason why he knows about these places though. He has a bunch of people working on it, plus a guide.
Unfortunately, and this is especially true for some travelers inspired by Bourdain, authentic has become synonymous with rundown.
While there are certainly some great places hidden in the backs of cell phone stores or above grocery stores, sometimes they aren’t as good (or “authentic”) as that shiny restaurant with an annoying chain vibe. I’m even willing to bet that sometimes the more rundown food shops actually make most of their profits from foreigners looking for a certain aesthetic because locals know better than to go there.
I’m not saying you should totally write these places off, just y’know, be aware. Look for things like how fresh their food appears, what the other customers are ordering – if there are other customers – and obviously if everyone is also toting a dirty backpack, you might want to try somewhere else.
Which brings me to my third point: not all local opinions are equal. Do you know anyone from your hometown with a terrible taste in food? Of course you do. Picky eaters abound across the globe. Keep this in mind when asking someone for advice on where to eat (or what to do for that matter; there are lots of boring people too).
If you do happen to find yourself sharing a meal with strangers from a country that has had some tension with yours, don’t assume that this is going to mend a violent past or present. More importantly, don’t make the mistake of equating human beings with the food they eat.
In an interview with Thrillist, New York comedian Hari Kondabolu makes an excellent point about immigrant communities in the US that honestly works for interactions with anyone coming from a different walk of life:
“We’re talking about immigrants in such a bizarre way nationally. And it’s something that’s either good or bad for the economy, [as to] whether they should be sent back. We’re separating families. There’s hate violence. Yet the thing we seem to be OK with is the food. We like the food. And there’s something that’s so insulting about that. … [It]’s frustrating, because part of what [can] make people of color and people of other ethnicities human beings is asking them questions and getting to know who they are – making a human connection. If you simplify them into something that’s not living, into a very specific cultural thing that benefits you [because] you like the taste of a thing, you kind of make it worse. You just remind me that I’m something for you to learn about. I’m a subject versus a person you can get to know.”
Once you understand this, it’s a lot easier to allow yourself to not like things, which you should. Just don’t be a dick about it. This is something you can actually learn how to do from watching any show where Bourdain goes to Scandinavian countries. But for some reason, Bourdain-inspired travelers can be prone to pushing themselves to the point where it’s not about thoughtfully trying new things, but one-upping themselves. If this something you enjoy doing, don’t let me stop you. But honestly, why not just stay at home and try to eat a bag of Carolina reapers ?
If you do try something new that you’re not an immediate fan of, sure, give it a second, third, or even fourth try. You might be surprised. But if it’s the stuff of your nightmares, maybe don’t force yourself to go down that road again and ruin everything the entire day for yourself and others.
Look, there’s a lot of great things that Bourdin’s shows have given us. He’s an important voice that uniquely treads the line between food and politics. The problem is when people, who have not had his kind of experience, try to follow his lead. So let Bourdain’s shows be what they are: food porn with a whiff of world history narrated by a pretty cool dad.
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