Have a Home-Cooked Meal With a Local Thanks to MealSharing.com
I recently wrote a column for Men’s Journal on how to find the best restaurants on the road. As usually happens, someone contacted me after the piece ran and mentioned a new crowdsourcing site called MealSharing.com. Sign up to be a guest or host and simply share a home cooked meal around the world with locals. How cool is that? Guests are asked to bring a bottle of wine and share stories of their travels. Hosts typically want to discuss their culture and turn you on to their favorite things to do in their city or village. Some of my most memorable meals have been at local’s home, like the Friday night dinner I had in Jerusalem sitting next to an 11th-generation Yemenite Torah scribe. Or dinner Lisa and I had with an Amish couple in their home in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Found a little notice at the local general store about this rare opportunity and had to show up. I remember the food was excellent and we discussed not only the differences but the striking similarities between our religions. Fascinating. Then he told me about his favorite homemade root beer joint in town. After all, no one knows his or her neck of the woods better than a local.

Everyone seems to go to Africa on safari. And yes, after spending the past week finding lions poking their manes out of the bush, watching a leopard gnawing on a goat high up a tree, and seeing family after family of giraffes, elephants, and warthogs, I can attest to that exhilarating feeling of wild abandonment. But as cute as those animals are, you have very little connection. It’s the people who make Africa a special place, especially in Kenya. From the high-end safari owner who feels it’s her civic duty to provide a water well, schooling, library, and HIV prevention education to a large slum in Nairobi even though she already employs many Kenyans on her payroll. Or the Maasai villager on the Tanzanian border, who after performing a tribal dance in headgear and dress, asks me if I’m on Facebook. He’ll happily send me pictures of the lions, he notes. Or the insightful safari guide, who received his college education in the States after a California professor visited Kenya and was quickly enamored with his brilliance. I turned him on to the African dance tunes of Deep Forest. Or the General Manager of a resort in the shadows of Mount Kenya, who being from India, taught me a secret of dealing with travel dysentery. Always eat yoghurt the first day of visiting a country, especially in places like India or Mexico, known for their laundry list of stomach ailments. Most of all, there are those smiling faces of young children in Nairobi schools and the Maasai villages. The ones I love to pass out “heart” stickers to. These people are the reason I return to Africa. Sure, I love Simba and Pumba like the rest of us, but it’s to the Kenyan people that I say asante sana for a wonderful trip. Hope to see you again soon!
Highway 1 on the mid-Californian coast is the road you see in car ads, a stunning stretch of road that deserves to be driven in a red convertible. The climax is the route through Big Sur, where the stomach-dropping turns edge the bluffs as you gape in awe at the wide clean beaches and cliffs that drop precipitously to the frothing ocean. Spend the first night at the
Just back from the three-day music festival,
If you’re headed to Thailand, Bali, Malaysia, Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, or Myanmar with
It was 1997 when I first met Brian McCutcheon, owner of