Vicarious Traveler
Since March 2020, international travel has been, shall we say, complicated. Our wandering hearts have been restricted, and we’ve had no other choice but to travel vicariously: through books, music, film, and food. That’s about to change; with restrictions on international travel gradually being lifted, travelers both seasoned and un- finally have the chance to satisfy their wanderlust. Still, it remains yet to be seen how many of us will actually be willing—or able—to leave home.
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It’s April 2020. I find myself catatonic. An edible and a glass of the brown stuff are my refuge, usually with some chaotic sound in the backdrop—the Stooges, Ramones, Brian Jonestown Massacre. A routine quickly forms: wake up, work, self-medicate, ruminate. Watch the world burn.
Enter, Frederic Morin and David McMillan.
Left to right: Frederic Morin, David McMillan, Meredith Erickson—the triage behind Joe Beef’s cookbooks/survival guides
I was familiar with Fred and Dave’s work before their intervention from afar. They are the co-conspirators behind Joe Beef, a Montreal institution serving for lack of a better term, good shit, often French. Both monsieurs appeared numerous times on Anthony Bourdain's series The Layover and Parts Unknown, and are just as renowned for their bombastic personas as they are for delivering copious amounts of cholesterol-laden goodness onto their guests' laps. They are men who worship and help to maintain the time-honored practice of hosting.
They were exactly who I needed at that moment.
Fred and Dave (alongside their equally endearing collaborator/co-author Meredith Erickson) are so freakin' prolific that they can affect an individual from afar, even without spoon-feeding them crystalized foie gras (Such an action was impossible for a while—Montreal restaurants only just reopened for dining in June 2021). Fred and Dave are both blessed with the unique ability to deliver their charm, sans contact. Upon discovering their "cookbooks" (Which are more like collections of essays/stories than they are recipe books, ranging from the history of Canadian rail to instructions on how & why to build a commercial smoker [welding guide included]), I could almost feel myself being transported to Quebec. Suddenly, I developed an intense craving for maple syrup; Celine Dion replaced Iggy Pop on my speakers. All jokes aside, they satisfied my restlessness. For a moment I felt I was elsewhere, somewhere away from my parent's basement.
And their influence continued. Their writing inspired me to start a garden. The smell of my semi-successful tomato and herb production that summer transported me again—this time to my godfather's garden in Astros, Greece, where I spent two formative summers researching (and enjoying) the profound biochemical effects of tsipouro. Had I disembarked a flight and flagged a cigarette-swathed taxi through Athens to an awaiting bus depot? Not quite. But the green smell of those vines took me and my mind elsewhere temporarily. And that was what I needed, then.
So thanks, Fred and Dave.
The habitual traveler faces a sort of reckoning. Many of us have become new people over the past 18 months. We have forged new lives in new places. But one thing that lingers inside anyone who enjoys travel is that constant anxiety, that itch to get out and to see new things. For 18 months there was an implied danger (some real, some imagined) of escaping from our living room couches. This is no longer true; so long as you're vaccinated, its own convoluted, status-driven issue.
As summer reaches its peak, so does the pressure to finally go abroad. It is certainly feasible now—so long as you’re the right person, moving to & from the right countries, at the right time (lt is conceivably easier to land in Naples now than it is to board an Amtrak to Toronto). But, even if you do count yourself amongst the fortunate, non-conspiratorial (some would say compliant), vaccinated herd, "they" will not make it easy for you; expect to have to fill out some paperwork, and perhaps even quarantine before you reach your destination. If you are not willing to self-isolate in some vitamin-D deficient hotel room for 2 weeks, wallowing in self-pity while consuming countless reruns of Seinfeld, well, you may have to ask yourself really how bad you want to go to Brazil. Depending on your answer, you might be better off staying home and going to Fogo de Chao to entertain your dream of becoming a gaucho. No stress, no inconvenience; pay for what you want, what you need.
However, just as you will realize as your waiter returns for the third time bearing chicken hearts grilled on a skewer, a culture cannot operate outside of its natural habitat the same way it does back home. No matter how sweet that grilled pineapple tastes, it will leave you feeling bitter afterwards.
What of those brief moments of respite that enamored us during our lockdowns? The song, the film, the book that brought you elsewhere; have they become worthless, now that real-deal travel is a thing again?
The feeling of travel—the feeling of leaving your comfort zone, and seeing and experiencing all the world has to offer—is attainable from within your own confines. Take the longstanding bar/pub in your neighborhood; the one with the busted-down doorframe. It contains its own microculture, its own clientele of regulars, even if it remains a mystery to you. What I'm trying to say is, there are plenty of places in your neighborhood, city, or state where the impeccable feeling of travel can be felt; where one can truly get lost encountering a new culture. Whether it's the dim sum parlor where the servers are 'rude' yet provide excellent, no-bullshit service, or being served a coffee at Starbucks by a stranger with an accent, the desired feeling that comes with travel is oftentimes lying in plain sight. All one must do is seek it out, and open their eyes.
Bloomington, IN; one would assume a relatively non-cultural city. But it is quite the opposite: this stretch of 4th Street shows neighboring Tibetan, Burmese, and Korean restaurants. And that’s not including the Turkish spot across the street.
Diving into a culture here, domestically, is a great way to learn more about a place without actually going there. Most Americans do not look within their own demographic for cultural wisdom (despite belonging to a country built by immigrants). Still, investigating a culture by interacting with expatriates applies a very specific lens to that experience—an American lens. Experiences like these can only mimic the feeling that comes with travel; it is impossible to simulate boarding a plane and getting off on the other side of the globe. In order to appreciate a place and its culture for what it is, one must ultimately go there.
Travel is like summiting an Alpine peak; tiring, costly, yet impossible to recreate. No amount of travel television will actually take you to a place, nor show you the sights and smells and feelings that await you there. One must ostensibly go to see the real thing for themselves.
We have all formed our lists over the past 18 months: places we love, places that confuse us, places we wish we were. Each bookmarked place might seem daunting to our sheltered, post-pandemic psyches; yet only by visiting them will we be able to unlock their truths. Jobs, spouses, kids, and financial burdens are all scary and legitimate obstacles to travel. Maybe work became your refuge during the pandemic (it certainly became mine). While they oftentimes run in tangent to one another, work ultimately comes second to personal relationships. Work and money alone do not bring you a life of fulfillment. Holding and maintaining relationships—with people, places, and art—is what does.
So travel. Or don't. Travel how you want, when you want—you set the rules. Escape from your bubble, in any way you feel comfortable doing. Whether you’re traveling to marry someone, or just chatting with a foreign person in your country, you will leave the experience having formed new and lasting relationships. No matter what kind of relationship you go on to form with the person, place, or thing, recognize that, even if its impact is ultimately negative, it's new to you. And that's worth something by itself.
