Matador Network's Blog, page 2159

How to spot a Brazilian

Photo: alobos Life

1. We’re yelling.

Brazilians might start off at a normal voice level, but by the end of the conversation we’re usually shouting, especially when trying to make a point. If there’s a Brazilian group, we’re probably screaming over each other.

2. We’re bundled up when it’s 70 degrees.

Brazilians know two seasons: summer and the dead of winter.

3. We’re crazy aggressive drivers.

It can be thrilling and terrifying to ride in a Brazilian’s car. We have short attention spans and are never afraid to lay on the horn. We’re used to the chaotic traffic in Brazil so we’re zipping in between cars, cutting corners, and getting within inches of other vehicles.

4. We’re constantly taking pictures.

Frequently of banal things like limos and billboards. And if we’re in the picture, it’s always followed by “deixe eu ver” (let me see).

5. We’re problem solvers, in maybe not the most logical way.

One way or another, Brazilians will find um jeito. It might not be efficient, but it will be creative. It might involve a few injuries or a little sucking up in the process, but it will get done.

6. We’re nowhere to be seen for a week in February.

Carnival, baby! We have to watch the floats, compare sambas, and argue about how the results are fixed.

7. We’re speaking Portuguese, not Spanish.

And we’ll let you know it.

8. We’re very neat.

Brazilians frequently clean corners of the house that most people don’t clean yearly. Careful if you live with a Brazilian: dirty dishes are not tolerated.

9. We’re great hosts.

Whether you’re going to a party or just popping by to say hello, Brazilians will make you feel welcome and pampered with good food and lively conversation.

10. We’re pulling off the natural look.

No need for make up or perfect hair. Brazilians are those people who you get out of bed with an angelic glow. It must be something in the water.

11. We have a remedy for anything.

Any time you mention an off-hand medical complaint, Brazilians will dig through their purses or medicine cabinets until find the perfect solution.

12. If single, there’s a good chance we’re living with parents.

In Brazilian culture, kids usually stay at their parent’s house until get engaged or married. There’s no stigma, as in America. And don’t be surprised if the parents still cook and clean for them…

13. We’re willing to share our most private problems.

The simple question, “How are you?” can yield answers from relationship drama to family scandal. #nofilter

14. We put ketchup on pizza.

Yeah, it’s weird.

15. We still think brands like Hollister and Abercrombie & Fitch are cool.

Enough said.

16. Every hour is happy hour.

Drinking at 10am? Brazilians don’t see a problem.

17. We’re arguing with you about soccer.

Never enter this argument with a Brazilian. We start appealing to the heart and things you’ll never understand. You’ll never be able to prove that football is as artistic as futebol.

18. We have confidence.

Brazilians fly off an air of self-assurance. We’re happy and beautiful, without being arrogant.

19. Our coffee will put hair on your chest.

There’s nothing a Brazilian hates more than weak coffee.

20. We’re late.

You can always count on the tardiness.

7 things Russians love to hate

Photo: Nikolai Vassiliev

1. Russians abroad

Every Russian you meet abroad secretly hates other Russian tourists and tries to avoid them. Sometimes we even pretend we are not Russian and have nothing in common with the big noisy group of people on a holiday with “all-inclusive” package who flood Spain, Egypt and Thailand. It must be them who are responsible for the image of Russian people abroad, and we hate them for that. Everywhere I travel, I see long faces after I say I am from Russia, because people expect aggressive behavior, heavy drinking and no respect for the country visited, with zero interest shown in the culture and the people. Not all Russians are like that, we just often pretend we come from a different place because of our bad reputation.

2. The Moscovites

The capital is by far the richest city in the country, but it seems to contain just work, work, and more work. Everyone there is in a rush, and the Moscovites talk much too fast, with a funny accent which ignores the existence of the sound “o”. Often assuming there is no life outside Moscow, the Moscovites are very surprised when someone prefers Kazan or Novosibirsk. This arrogance hasn’t helped them make many friends. Moscow is like a separate country inside Russia — everyone who comes from the capital says it proudly, but the rest of the nation thinks the Moscovites are cocky and insolent.

3. The roads

Russians have a saying, “Russia has two misfortunes — the fools and the roads”. Though the first one is subjective, the condition of our roads is assuredly disastrous. Some of them had last been repaired when Ivan the Terrible was alive, not mentioning vast distances without roads at all. Adding insult to injury, in winter (which, as you already know, lasts forever) the roads are glazed; pedestrians move slowly, making tiny steps like penguins, and drivers spend fortunes on winter tires.

4. Our national football team

Russians favorite sports are ice hockey and football. While we are very proud of our hockey team, football always brings disappointment. We are in a love-hate relationship with our national football team. There always is hope it will be different this time, but the scenario never changes. The game is lost, and the country is heartbroken and angry at the players who didn’t even seem to try.

5. Our government

Politics in Russia is the most popular of all the kitchen conversations. We spend hours passionately discussing the stupidity of the new laws and the president’s latest speech, wondering if the prices will go up again and complaining about the corruption level. One of the main motives is that the grass was greener in the USSR. We blame the government for the reform of education which led to a decline of the science development in the country and for the reform of the health care system that reduced the number of hospitals and doctors. But when it comes to action, almost no one goes to the streets to actually protest — we prefer verbal battles.

6. Outside criticism

While we can criticize our country all we want, us Russians can’t stand it when foreigners criticize our country. We are a very hospitable nation, and it is one of the most important things for us to make guests feel welcome, comfortable and taken care of. You can make great friends here, until you dare say something bad about Russia — that’s a dealbreaker. Even if what you say is reasonable, it will create tension. Big tension. Your new Russian friend will become defensive and spend at least two hours trying to convince you that Russia is flawless, even if deep down they know that is not true. .

7. Winter in general

Winter evokes lovely images of skiing or ice skating, throwing snowballs, and making snow angels. You might assume us Russians love winter. But, trust me, when you see snow every single year for 4-to-6 months, you get over it quickly. In winter Russians live in darkness. We wake up and go to work when it is still dark, we come back home when it is already dark.

And it is damn cold. If staying home is not an option, vodka is a solution. If getting drunk enough to forget about how cold it is isn’t possible, forget about going out. When it hits 20C below zero, eyelashes become white and noses blue, people cover their faces with extra scarves and no one even talks in the streets. When it is 25C below zero, girls give up trying to look fancy and put on practical valenki, traditional Russian boots made by felting wool.

12 of the best Airbnbs in Greece

IN YEARS PAST, travelers had few accommodation options when traveling. Choices included hotels, motels, or, depending on the location being visited, hostels. But in recent years, Couchsurfing and Airbnb have given travelers important new options, allowing them to feel more at home than a typical hotel stay would.

On some occasions, these new sorts of accommodations even provide opportunities for new friendships and meals with hosts. It’s hard to argue with the results considering the positive experiences so many travelers have had. As the service grows, it’s likely that the choices travelers have will continue to grow as well.

Decide for yourself — take a look at 12 of our favorite Airbnbs in Greece and compare them to your last hotel stay.




1

All white

Not the White House that normally comes to mind, this “White House” can be found on Thira (also known as Santorini). The villa contains three levels which can be separated, or used as one space for a large group, if desired. The top level contains a balcony, which overlooks the volcano and provides views of Oia. The space below is a cave house, which shows how the people of the islands utilized all available space within Santorini’s “cave” dwellings. A stay on the Greek island is incomplete without staying in one of the white homes. (See the listing)

2

Luxury villa

Found in the foothills of the Mainalo in the Peloponnese peninsula, this villa contains 8 bedrooms and 9 bathrooms, making it the perfect spot for a large group navigating through Greece or for an individual looking to spend his or her life savings. The villa, which originally dates back to 1843, was renovated to provide visitors with the maximum amount of luxury, and it shows. The villa contains a spa and allows for ATV adventures, river rafting, and other experiences, making a stay here quite the alternative to staying in a hotel. (See the listing)

3

Modern mees traditional

Named 3Arches Traditional House, this island home in Santorini is a restored historic building. Each of the 3 bedrooms contains its own exterior entrance, allowing for a maximum amount of privacy. The home is rather bright and colorful. And if you’d rather go and enjoy the nice weather, there’s no shortage of outdoor space to take advantage of, and a traditional barbecue oven and wet bar. Actually, there seems to be little reason to head back inside other than for an afternoon nap. (See the listing)

4

Blue waters

Villa Roula measures in at 265 square meters and contains 4 bedrooms. The minimum stay is 7 days, allowing for ample time to take in all the surroundings, from Souda Bay’s blue waters to the olive trees nearby. Ideal for kicking back, the property contains a large pool as well as traditional barbecue ovens. And considering the typical weather in the region; dining al fresco isn’t an option, it’s a necessity. (See the listing)

5

Zen dream

A newly-built villa in Zakynthos on the Ionian Sea (famous for having some of the bluest waters on the planet), Cielo Villa is nothing short of what many people would call a dream home. With a large pool, four bedrooms, four bathrooms, an outdoor dining area, stunning sea views, all-new furniture and appliances, and most amenities that come to mind, you’d be surprised to find out you’re not in a five star hotel upon waking up in this villa. (See the listing)

6

Balcony views

This Kalyviani home is referred to as Villa Arhontariki. Built in the early 1900s and recently renovated, the villa stays true to its Cretan roots and utilizes much of the same architecture it originally possessed. With 5 bedrooms and 3 bathrooms, it’s meant for a large family – the same goes for the pool area, surrounded by lush greenery. Balconies and bay windows abound, so Villa Arhontariki also provides for views of the sea and peninsula. The pool will be nice to take a dip in if you decide to walk away from the balcony for a moment.

7

Poolside retreat

Sitting on a plot of 7,000 square meters, you’d better bring 23 friends to visit the Villa Grand Retreat. With all the makings for the ultimate pool party, the villa provides views of the Aegean Sea as well as Delos Island. Its interior is a mix of modern décor and traditional Greek stonework and architecture, making for an eclectic and impressive look. Hungry? A full-time chef is available upon request, as well. Oh, and you’d better bring 23 friends to help you pay for the stay, too. (See the listing)

8

Luxe suites

Walking distance from Spilia Beach, this home is appropriately named Porta del Mare, or “Gate to the Sea.” You’ll likely feel as if you’re staying in a resort with the daily housekeeping service ensuring your sheets are always fresh. With a terrace on which a hot tub can be found, you’ll probably find yourself doing less sightseeing than you’d originally imagined, too. No worries though – there are plenty of sights to take a look at from the terrace while you’re dining al fresco each evening. (

Affecting the voice of travel

Thy Tran in her kitchen. Photo by the author.

THY TRAN is a San Francisco-based writer and chef-instructor who specializes in the history and culture of food. Her research into how diverse communities grow, cook, sell, and eat has taken her from Seoul to Singapore, Cusco to Kochi. In addition to contributing features in publications such as the Washington Post, The Los Angeles Times, Saveur and Fine Cooking, she co-authored Asia in the San Francisco Bay Area: A Cultural Travel Guide, Taste of the World, Essentials of Asian Cooking and The Kitchen Companion. Thy is a founder of the Asian Culinary Forum, a nonprofit organization that hosts multidisciplinary symposia exploring the forces that affect Asian communities and their cuisines around the world.

Bani Amor: Tell us about yourself. How would you describe your work?

Thy Tran: Firstly, I’m a freelance food writer and editor, with an emphasis on providing historical and cultural context in nonfiction culinary reference books (cookbooks, food encyclopedias & dictionaries, travel guide books, etc.). I’m also a chef-instructor (I was trained as a chef and used to work in restaurants), so I teach a range of cooking classes, for both youth and adults, lots of nonprofit cultural centers, culinary academies, and the like.

I started a nonprofit, Asian Culinary Forum, to try and address the media’s messed-up representations and narratives of Asian communities and their food. But that’s definitely a labor of love — all volunteer work but extremely rewarding, too.

For the work itself, I veer strongly away from trend or lifestyle topics. I’m mostly interested in how people cook in their own homes, the kinds of decisions they make for their themselves and their families, and how what we eat is a living thing, always changing, no matter how hard we try to imagine it as “true” or “right” or “authentic.”

I didn’t start out specializing in Asian cuisines (I was trained in “classic” French traditions), but once I started freelancing, it was obvious that people expected me to address Asian cuisines and would, more importantly, pay me to do that. I do LOVE what I do, so no complaints. But there’s definitely some pigeonholing that happens in the professional world.

Bani: How do power dynamics play out in the ways we read and write about food?

Thy: Oh, honey, food is ALL about power!

Cookbooks that are meant to be sold to travelers as souvenirs will still have a bit of romanticizing of history, rural communities, mother’s kitchens, etc., and then set up a dichotomy between imperial dishes (which are the ones that tend to become famous in other countries) and “country cooking” of the peasants.

Take any classic cuisine, from France to China to Thailand, and it’s the flavors and stories of the court society that is served for special occasions, including upscale restaurants for travelers. Parallel to that, people like to “discover” and experience rural food off the beaten path. The cookbook industry reflects that tendency to think of food in those two categories. Normal, everyday food regular people eat is not what most people think when they think of the flavors of another country.

There’s a difference between power and privilege. The two are related, of course, and as international travelers and women and people of color, we negotiate them in complex ways.

When I was a student and traveled low budget in Europe, I had trash thrown at me and learned the racial epithets for “Asian” in various countries just by walking down the street. Now, in business dress, people assume I’m Japanese or Chinese, and so they treat me very well, to my face at least, because they think I’ll spend lots of money.

Bani: Then it shifts when we look at who’s marketing whose culture for which audience and who gets appointed the authority on a country’s cuisine.

Thy: Ahh, yes. And hence the reason that it was three women of color, all of whom worked in food publishing, who founded the Asian Culinary Forum. We were so tired of seeing others determine the narratives.

Bani: That’s dope.

Thy: Some would say it’s “the market” who determines what ends up in cookbooks. For example, editors will say that people will want, for example (a real one), a story about clay pots in Vietnamese cooking, because when they go to the restaurant, they always see on the menu clay pot catfish or tofu or whatever dish.

You will try to explain to the editor that NO ONE in Vietnam or no Vietnamese immigrants use clay pots. It was used during times of war and poverty, when the military needed metal or when a person can’t afford modern cookware. But the editor will say: well, we already shot the photo, and the food stylist used a really beautiful clay pot, and so…please write a few paragraphs about this “traditional” method of cooking.

Notice that the readers are always assumed to be white, or at least not of the ethnicity of the author of color. That’s a seriously huge assumption that deeply affects the voice of travel and culture (including food) writing.

Bani: Yes, the default reader remains white, even though statistics show otherwise.

Thy: So, how can you argue with “the market” which is a stand-in for “majority” which is stand-in for “white”?

Bani: And the writer must twist their voice to suit the white gaze. The result in a lot of food and travel writing is you end up getting a lot of white people tryna sound like each other.

Thy: I used to joke that Saveur magazine had three basic narratives for their features:

1. Back in college, I visited this completely alien country and fell in love with it immediately. I wandered the alleyways and discovered amazing places with real people serving real food. I revisit as often as I can, and I now consider it a second home. Here’s a great recipe for paella.

2. When we fled the war, the only thing we took were the clothes on our backs and our grandmother’s recipe book. Now, join me as I return to my homeland and learn how to make dumplings while reconciling with past devastation and modern development. [Insert requisite description of boy using cell phone while riding a water buffalo.]

3. When I was little, our nanny/cook/farm hand would let me sit on a stool in the kitchen and she’d sing while grinding corn. Here is her recipe for tamales.

Bani: Terrible, please stop! Is that what you meant by pigeonholing in the industry – getting sicked with the Asian stories, as long as it’s in their voice?

Thy: I could go on for hours about voice, whose voice becomes expert and why, and the way money becomes a part of that equation. It’s a very touchy topic among my colleagues, and I can tell you that there are many Facebook debates about this among food writers.

Well-meaning white writers feel real confusion and, depending on their personality, varying levels of anger and grief about why we writers of color are upset at the invisible expectations. I should say, invisible to them.

Pet peeves — like anonymity in photo captions (“sidewalk vendor serving up delicious soup”) or tired tropes (“her grandmother’s recipe”) — sound like petty complaints and apparently should be dismissed in the face of a world traveler’s good intentions to explore and educate.

Deeper issues, such as who can become instantly an expert in anything outside of their own experience gets lost in things like “the market” or by explanation of passion being the most important part of travel and writing.

Bani: Their delicate feelings always gotta come first.

Thy: I think the privilege of being a blank slate — that any interest can become an expertise (and one that earns you money) — is something still very much taken for granted. On the other hand, I can assure you that there isn’t a single editor who would sign me up for an article on traditional uses of olives, even if I traveled in the Middle East for a summer and read a few cookbooks — which is what many white writers can get away with.

Bani: Shit. Seems bleak.

Thy: Actually, I think the whole abundance of unique personal approaches to cooking on the internet now is a good thing for this. When you have gatekeepers, the stories are obviously much more controlled. There isn’t money in internet writing, but then, that’s a good thing for the larger picture.

Bani: Yes — fuck the gatekeepers. The larger the picture, the better.

Thy: I also make a point of holding editors accountable for terrible decisions. You don’t want to burn bridges if you plan to keep making money, but there are ways of letting the editors and others in the industry know about irresponsible, unprofessional practices. Once, an editor decided to change my submitted article drastically without letting me know. I wrote a piece on Sikhs and their tradition of serving free food to everyone regardless of race or religion in their gurdwaras. I mentioned a festival in California’s Central Valley where 90,000 people shared food with all-volunteer labor and no money exchanging hands. The editor decided that couldn’t possible be right, and so she just downgraded the attendance to 9,000.

She also shifted the entire article into first person, and even made up some conversations at the temple, in order to make it more “authentic.” This resulted in me seeming to talk while everyone was cooking in the langhar, which would have gone completely against the practice of meditation and silence in that particular kitchen. The article ran that way.

The changes were so egregious that, years later, I mentioned them when I was a speaker at a major food conference in front of nearly a thousand other writers and editors as an example of what needs to change. So, never stop fighting, but you just have to think carefully about where you can make the most impact.

This interview originally appeared at Everywhere All The Time and is republished here with permission.

10 comments servers are sick of

Photo: Chris Goldberg

1. “What’s good here?”

You’re pretty much asking us to shit on at least some of the offerings of our fine-dining establishment. If we tell you, “Everything is good!” we’re not getting anywhere. If we list our favorites, they might not align with your food preferences, and if you ask us, “Which is better?” we’re just going to pull out the strong points of each dish and hope you don’t push us further. Once it gets to a tug-of-war ending in “But if you HAD to pick,” we get super frustrated, because then if you hate what we shared, it’s all our fault.

2. “Can we have that table instead?”

Spoiler alert: Your food is going to taste the same wherever you sit. I know this is piece of information is earth shattering. Do not request that we ask the couple currently occupying the corner booth to move because you’re so adamant on dining there. We have no desire to appease whatever ridiculous reason you’ve thought up in your head that you feel makes this table is better than any of the other seats in this restaurant, because it won’t make your meal taste any better.

3. “Can I order off the kids menu?” (from a grown-ass man)

The “12 and under” fine print isn’t there for kicks. No sir, you cannot have four chicken tenders for $5.95, just like you can’t get into a movie for the price of a child’s ticket, or get the senior-citizen discount until you’re 60. If we had a ball pit or bouncy castle, that would be off limits to you too.

4. “It’s so loud in here!”

Yes it is, because you’re dining out on a Saturday night at a busy, popular restaurant. No, I cannot ask the table next to you to keep it down. They’re having a good time, and are paying for their meal just like you, so they’re entitled to laugh loudly in their space. If you want a nice, quiet dinner, where the only sound is you and your companion speaking softly to each other, do us both a favor — have dinner at home.

5. “Can we have separate checks?” (Especially when said at the end of the meal)

So, you want us to divide your table’s check into six separate ones…because you can’t do basic math? You really can’t stand the thought of just splitting this evenly due to the fact that your chicken dish was $3.35 less than the other things your friends ordered? Or are you trying to appease the cheap friend who didn’t drink anything, and only ordered a side salad for a wild $12 night out on the town? Sure, we’ll get that done for you right away…as soon as we’re done trying to remember who had which cocktails, since you’ve all been drinking like fishes for the past three hours.

6. “Does this come with anything?”

Particularly in the United States, which typically serves a starch-laden side with every meal, an item listed on an a la carte menu might seem to be lacking if there’s no mention of fries, potatoes, or anything other than the dish itself. Sorry if you’re used to getting the value menu over at McDonald’s, but that menu description was written that way for a reason — to detail everything you’re getting when you decide to order it. If it’s not listed below it, look around the rest of the menu. If you still can find it, ask a friend.

7. “It didn’t say that it came with (insert item here).”

Actually, it did, you just didn’t read the description the entire way through, and now the kitchen staff, manager, and owner are all angry at us for your mistake. Oh, you want to fight about whether or not that item was listed in the explanation, with the server who has looked at this menu every day for months or even years? Yes, we will bring you the menu and show you exactly where it says “topped with olives,” but you’re going to feel awkward when we prove you wrong.

8. “Surprise me.”

This is the equivalent of a client you’ve never met before, and know nothing about. He/she walks into your office and after you ask them, “What can I do for you?” that person replies, “Surprise me.” You have no idea what this person is partial to, what they hate, or even what they’re allergic to. When our tip rides on whether or not you like what we’re bringing you, this isn’t a gamble your server wants to take. So please, at least give us some guidelines here so that we’re not sticking you with an EpiPen post-oyster-shooter, after finding out you’re allergic to shellfish.

9. “I absolutely hated it.”

Look, we’re here to make your dining experience as pleasant as possible — because our bank accounts depend on it. When you hate what you ordered, suffer in silence, and wait to tell us your true feelings about your dish until after you’ve choked down the entire thing, no one wins. You’re unsatisfied, and therefore you’re going to tip us poorly, or leave us a subpar review, when we could have had the chef fix you something to your liking. A simple, “I’m not crazy about this” could have helped avoid all of this in the first place.

10. “Is this your real job? What else do you do?”

Imagine if we came to your office and asked you the same thing. While there are plenty of students who work as servers to pay their expenses during college, and artists who wait tables on the side while pursuing their creative endeavors, please try to understand that there are actually people who enjoy this profession, and earn a living doing so. Not everyone was born to sit behind a desk for 8 hours a day.

Signs it's time to leave Nicaragua

Photo: anique

1. If you have a cold, you blame it on the pineapple.

Sickness is a form of gossip that Nicaraguans love to indulge in. When someone gets the flu, you can spend hours analyzing how he got it. Likely culprits are showering too late at night or too soon after doing sports, walking barefoot, getting wet, or eating something cold too late at night or too soon after eating something hot. But secretly, everybody knows that it was probably the pineapple you ate before going to bed.

2. You haven’t eaten properly if you haven’t had gallo pinto at least once a day.

Gallo pinto is Nicaragua’s staple dish, made from frying together rice and beans. You can eat it once a day or, even better, at every meal. Sound pretty much exactly like what they eat in all of the other parts of Central America? Never say that to a Nicaraguan or he will proudly tell you how superior gallo pinto is to the rice and beans eaten in Costa Rica, and the beans and rice eaten in Honduras or Guatemala.

3. You only supported Costa Rica in the World Cup because they had a Nicaraguan on their team.

Well, Duarte is only actually half-Nicaraguan, but who cares? He was born in Nicaragua, he wore a wristband with the Nicaraguan flag, and he scored most of the goals for Costa Rica in the 2014 World Cup. Everybody knows if it weren’t for him, Costa Rica would have never gotten that far. Must be all that gallo pinto he grew up on.

4. You stop thinking that everybody is either constantly disapproving of you or trying to kiss you.

Nicaraguans have an uncanny amount of minuscule facial gestures to convey things other people would just say. When the café owner wrinkles his nose at your order, you know he isn’t disapproving, but rather that he didn’t understand. Similarly, in a country where it is rude to point, most people will use their lips instead of their fingers, making it seem to the uninitiated guest that they are awkwardly trying to kiss you.

5. You no longer flinch when you see how much sugar people dump into your coffee.

1…2…3 cups, not tablespoons. Coffee may be the national drink in Nicaragua, but sugar seems to be the national condiment and is added to everything, including infant formula. You coffee isn’t coffee unless each cup comes with more than your daily-required intake of sugar added.

6. You know the lyrics to more 90s songs than you did as a kid growing up in the 90s.

Suede? Alanis Morissette? TLC? The Cranberries? Sheryl Crow? Nicaragua has a love affair with 90s music that started when they opened their doors to foreign trade in the late 80s and ended in the early 2000s. But it doesn’t matter too much, because, let’s face it, what’s better than belting out Savage Garden for Thursday karaoke nights?

7. You use rain as a valid excuse for not showing up.

“Look, it’s raining,” (Fíjense que, está lloviendo) is a valid excuse for arriving late, or not arriving at all, to almost any event, including work. In a country where it rains for almost half the year, it doesn’t strike you as odd that no one is prepared.

8. You under-exaggerate sizes constantly.

You never call a cup a cup or a person by their real name. It’s always a vasito, mamita, abuelito, hermanita.

9. You know that Saturdays = Beef soup and sleeping.

Nicaraguans have a tradition of waking up Saturday morning and making soup. In every house they will fire up the fogata — an old-school clay barbecue — put on a giant soup pot, throw a bunch of meat and vegetables in, and let it simmer for hours. You get asked if you want a little sopita, which you eat in a giant bowl that could hold a small child. Then you sleep. And repeat.

10. You tell yourself that French fries and fried plantains are vegetables.

Nicaraguans love the carbs and will gladly toss down a lunch consisting of rice, tortilla, and spaghetti. With vegetables limited to the Saturday afternoon soup, you come to consider your meal as balanced when it also includes potatoes, cassava, or plantains.

11. You own at least five pairs of flip-flops.

The dust on the street could get you sick, so you have to change into your house flip-flops when you get home. But you have a different pair for the shower, and yet another pair that you use just in your room. Then you have your flip-flops for going to the corner shop. And lets not even get started with the “fancy” flip-flops you have for going out.

12. You can down 12 Toñas without batting an eye or falling under the table.

We don’t do casual drinking here. When we drink, we order by the crate and sit around the table until everyone has consumed at least 10 litres of the national beer, toña. And then we start with the rum.

Why LGBT travelers can be proud

Photo: Adam Groffman

2014 has been a watershed year for LGBT people around the world. LGBT rights are coming to the forefront in many countries. Advertisers are taking notice of the LGBT travel market, and brands are investing in making travel more inclusive for LGBT people. Amidst the political and social tragedies that have occurred this year, we have had many successful moments worthy of our pride.

1. Marriage equality is gaining momentum around the world.

2014 was the tipping point for marriage equality in the United States. Twenty of the nation’s 50 states have legalized same-sex marriages bringing the total to 35 with marriage equality. Fifteen states still have bans, but the tide is clearly turning in our favor. Internationally, we’re seeing similar patterns. Scotland, England, Wales, and Luxembourg all legalized same-sex marriage this year joining in numerous European countries where it is already legal. While marriage equality does not necessarily mean a country is affirming of LGBT people, it does mean that the government is taking steps toward protecting LGBT citizens and travelers.

2. We’ve realized that LGBT people travel WAY more than the average population.

85% of gay and 77% of lesbian Americans have passports and 54% of those LGBT people have used their passport in the past year. Compare that to less than half of the general population.

3. Tourism boards are finally investing in trans* inclusive travel.

In the past, trans* people have been lumped into LGBT tourism, but the reality is that there are different needs and concerns for different parts of the LGBT community. This year, the Greater Fort Lauderdale Convention & Visitors Bureau commissioned a study on trans* travelers. The study is an effort to learn about the needs of trans* travelers and make Fort Lauderdale more trans* inclusive. Thanks Fort Lauderdale!

4. Zakhele Mbhele became the first openly gay member of the South African Parliament.
5. The Indian Supreme Court ruled that the state must protect transgender people from discrimination and harassment.
6. Last August, 8,000 athletes from 50 countries went to Cleveland, Ohio to compete in the 2014 Gay Games.

The games are equal parts sports competition and human rights convention, and athletes from around the world openly compete. For many athletes, this is a huge personal risk to their livelihood in their home country. During the Games, President Obama made a statement acknowledging the difficulty many athletes face in their home country. In his message, he reminded the athletes of his personal support and praised their bravery. Some LGBT people may role their eyes at President Obama’s validation, but it sends a strong message to people who may have never had their identity validated.

7. We’re advancing in our fight against reparative therapy practices.

Earlier this year, a court in China ruled in favor of a gay man who was suing a psychologist for using electric shock reparative therapy. Reparative therapy has been renounced by every major psychological organization in the world, but is still common practice in many countries. This case is a step in the right direction for China and may curb the number of clinics offering harmful “treatments.”

Why the world is open to LGBTQ me

Photo: Jiuck

SINCE I CAME OUT roughly eight years ago, I’ve been fortunate enough to travel throughout the US, Latin America, Europe, and India. I’ve spent a bit of time in Africa and I’ve lived in the Midwest, Buenos Aires, London, New York, and Mumbai. I’ve also met and befriended people from all corners of the earth. I’ve met locals, backpackers and expats, as well as people traveling on all sorts of business, from attorneys and chefs to professors and artists.

At the same time, I’ve also met a lot of members of the LGBTQ family (by the way, when I say “homosexual” I’m using that as a blanket term for all people who identify as LGBTQ etc.). These homos that I’ve met have come from all different walks of life. I’ve met Christians, Muslims, Jews, Hindus, Buddhists, and Atheists. I’ve met Europeans, Latinos, Asians, Arabs, Africans, and people of wildly mixed ancestral backgrounds. Rich people? Yes. Poor people? You betcha. Highly educated people and people without a high school degree? I’ve met them too. I’ve even met conservatives, liberals, extremists, and moderates. Some poor souls were still deeply closeted and were trying to come to terms with themselves. And I’ve met a hell of a lot of people that, on first pass, I thought I had absolutely nothing in common with.

I was raised extremely Christian and am now probably best classified as a Deist bordering on Atheist (so I’m conflicted, aren’t we all?). I’m from the Midwest — the oldest of five boys. I was raised on a farm in the middle of nowhere. By all conventional Western measures, my family was only a notch or two above dirt poor when I was a kid. As a kid I was taught that queers were going to hell along with Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Pentecostals, a good portion of Catholics, and every single liberal in the country. Oh, and Clinton was probably the anti-Christ. Politically, I’m socially liberal and fiscally conservative. I went to a Podunk elementary school and was homeschooled from age 15 until I took the GED at 18. I went to a small university near my hometown, though I did go on to study all over the world, becoming “highly educated,” and I’ve got the student loans to prove it too. I became an attorney and a stressed out, overworked, underpaid operations manager crisscrossing the globe.

Why is who I am so important? Because I want to demonstrate to you how utterly different I am from some of the locals, backpackers, expats, and business travelers I’ve met. Why? So you understand just how awesome what I’m about to tell you really is.

Remember all those people I told you I’ve met during my post-coming-out travels? Pretty diverse crowd, right? Well, I was able to befriend nearly all of them – 9 out of 10. I’m not talking just about gay guys here, I’m talking about lesbians, bisexuals, transsexuals, transgenders, queers, and people who definitely weren’t straight but didn’t feel comfortable with any of the labels that LGBTQ offers. And they’ve befriended me right back.

I’ve dated a Hindu from northeast India, a transgender guy from the northeastern US, a hippie from the Midwest, a somewhat conservative Muslim living in the UK, and a first generation Asian-American. I’ve had more casual relationships with an illegal immigrant (Latino), a nearly “fresh of the boat” legal immigrant (Black), and an uneducated ex-con (White). Not to mention the few weekend flings I’ve had with Republicans, staunch Catholics, and so on.

In this way, homosexuality is a great equalizer. Here’s a few more examples:

1. I recently met a 20-year-old Muslim guy living in one of the many slums that can be found in Mumbai. His father is dead. He hasn’t been educated beyond probably the 8th grade level and he’s been working since he was about 12. We met on a local train going into south Mumbai. I was on the train purely for the sake of novelty, I was in Mumbai for business — my company provides a car and driver for me. He was on the train out of necessity, he couldn’t afford a tuk-tuk let alone a proper taxi. The fare I normally pay without thinking twice about is probably more than he earns in several days.

We ended up sitting next to each other because, well, those trains are ridiculously crowded. We started talking because he was curious and wanted to practice his English. Also because he had more balls than any of the other people who were all staring at me in shock — a white guy on these trains is not a common sight.

He started pelting me with the same questions I get every time I go to India. Where are you from? What do you do? How long in India? Married? Family? Girlfriend? No wife / girlfriend? Why not? I have a sister. After several more questions, he stopped to check his phone — I quickly did the same. Suddenly, he tapped my shoulder and, lowering his head, whispered to me, Are you gay? I didn’t want to answer — it is illegal in India, after all, and this guy was a complete stranger — until he discreetly showed me an app on his phone. Planet Romeo — a gay dating app that I also happen have on my phone. In fact, when we paused to check our phones I logged on to read a new message on said app, and popped up in the “nearby” section of his app. I couldn’t help laughing and did so out loud, gaining me even more weird looks from my fellow passengers.

Now this was a guy that right up until that second I had absolutely nothing in common with. I have no idea what it must be like to be a young, fatherless, Muslim boy growing up in the slums of Mumbai, without much of an education and working 7 days a week since the age of 12. Sure, I’ve read some stories. I could feel sorry for him maybe, but there was no real connection until I discovered he was gay too.

Suddenly all of those differences, all of those barriers vanished. They became irrelevant. No, not because suddenly he was a potential date or one-night stand. Not because I was attracted to him (I wasn’t, not my type). But now, now I could relate. I could sympathize. I could empathize. I may not know what it’s like to be discriminated against because you’re a Muslim in a very anti-Muslim world. I don’t know what it’s like to be discriminated against because you live in a tin shack in a sprawling, sweltering, festering slum. But I do know what it’s like to be discriminated against because you’re gay — even if you’re not openly gay or “obviously” gay.

I know what it’s like to be afraid of coming out. I know what it’s like to be afraid of getting caught doing, saying, or having something that would mark you as gay. I know what it’s like to worry if people can tell and what your family and friends will think. And I also know what it’s like to fear for your physical safety as a result of something that you cannot control, something you were born with.

2. One of my ex-boyfriends is black, born in Honduras, brought to the US legally as a child and raised in the Bronx. Did I understand what it was like to grow up in the Bronx? No, I grew up on a farm in Missouri. Could I relate to being an immigrant of color in the US? Nope. Could I then and can I now relate to the discrimination and racism issues black people are facing in the US? No. Could I relate to the issues and feelings and struggles he had when coming to terms with being gay and coming out to his family and friends? Absolutely.

3. Last year I dated a transguy (male born in a female body) in the middle of his transition. To be perfectly honest, we didn’t have a ton in common — just a crazy, inexplicable attraction to one another. I listened whenever he talked about the issues he faced growing up. I listened when he talked about the issues he still faces when his grandmother refuses to call him by anything other than the name he was given at birth (a very feminine name) or when co-workers did stupid and offensive things. Again, I’ve got no idea what that’s like. I’ve never faced those issues. But I could relate to the basics of discrimination, family not accepting you for who you really are, and the inherent anti-LGBTQ crap built into our society.

That’s the thing about being a member of the LGBTQ family. Sure, we have our differences, just like anyone else. But at the most basic level we can relate to each other, we know without needing details the struggles the person we’ve just met has been through. We open up to our fellow comrades, wrap ourselves up in the rainbow flag and talk about what it was like growing up as a gay guy, lesbian, queen, bisexual, or transgender in whatever city / state / country / religion etc. that we happen to be from. At the same time that we’re showing our compatriots that we face the same / similar issues as they do, we’re giving each other a glimpse into the real society and fabric of a place.

Each time this happens (and there have been several times), I walk away moved and humbled. I also walk away realizing yet again how fortunate I am that my family changed and that things are slowly changing in the west. Here in India, with the recent re-criminalization of homosexual acts, what’s happening in the West is unimaginable.

In a few weeks time, I’ll be heading to Bangkok to begin four months of backpacking all over Thailand, Myanmar, Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam. I’m good at networking, so I’ve already started putting the contacts and social media to work, lining up people to meet — so far mainly LGBTQ people. The response so far has been amazing. Yet again, people from all walks of life are inviting me into their cities, their circles of friends, and even into their homes. They are providing advice, local insight, loopholes, and will be showing me their favorite spots — without ever having met me. Why? Because I’m a homosexual.

What Christmas in Paris is like

Photo: Adrien Mogenet

1. Parisian Christmas trees are downright dinky.

It makes sense — most Parisian apartments are pretty dinky, too. But these trees look like little munchkins.

2. Rather bewilderingly, Parisians (and the French in general) adore having outdoor fairs in dead winter.

Up goes the big sparkly Ferris wheel at Place de Concorde and the fête foraine at Bastille. It brings you into a whole new sensory realm to have icy air zipping past your ears as you get flung upside down.

3. In Paris, all the action happens on Christmas Eve.

Unlike in the US, Christmas morning is like a non-holiday here. People are just busy sleeping off champagne-and-foie-gras hangovers.

4. Parisian cafés get REALLY excited about holiday window paint.
5. There are Ferrero Rocher candies here, there, and everywhere.

I mean, we have them in the US, but not THAT many. It’s like a gold foil infestation. Pyramids upon pyramids.

6. There is a lot of gold. Everywhere.

Green and red are not as omnipresent in Paris as they are in the US.

7. Christmas trees bought in Paris all come with handy, dandy wooden stands.

Unlike in the US, where you have to get the whole family to try and stuff the tree into the little metal holder.

8. As far as decorating trends go, sparkly branches are in.
9. This is not the season to be vegan.

Let’s face it, it is never really easy to be vegan in France. Parisians are very attached to Christmas feasts of oysters, foie gras (and, no François Hollande does not do a “duck pardoning” like his American counterpart at Thanksgiving) and “Christmas logs” (bûches de Noël), which are basically just cream filling.

10. If you go to HEMA on a Saturday in December, you might not make it out alive.

I guess this is comparable to the December madness in the aisles of Target. But you can usually walk down the aisles, whereas the minute proportions of most Paris stores make passing people impossible. I gave up looking for candles because I didn’t want to have to climb over four people.

11. The Parisian holidays are very white and Christian.

Granted, I haven’t yet met a Parisian who celebrates Kwanzaa, but Paris is incredibly multicultural. Sadly, I’ve noticed that the city doesn’t really make an effort to be inclusive and / or multicultural during the winter holiday season. Most bookstores don’t have a section of children’s books on Diwali, Kwanzaa, and Hanukkah for example. Not many brown Santas, either.

12. Christmas is much more adult-centred in France than child-centred like in the US.

I guess that could be an observation on France in general. It really is a much more adult-centred society. But the first time I celebrated Christmas in France, I was surprised to see the little guys packed off to bed quickly so we could really stick into the champagne.

13. Lychees are THE fruit of the season (especially if you have any connection to La Réunion).

In the US, oranges are the fruit of choice. But a lot of Parisian and French families pair ripe lychees with the Christmas season.

14. Monoprix is always great. But this is the season when they outdo themselves.
15. This is when the City of Lights truly becomes the City of Lights.

Christmas lights galore!

16. Even in Paris, tacky Christmas lights happen, i.e., the Champs Élysées.

That said, this year is the first time in a few that the lights are really not that bad — there is a fairyland twinkle about them whereas the last few years were like failed discos. But what do you expect from a giant, outdoor mall?

17. The grands magasins are evil in more ways than one.

The mechanical holiday window displays at the Galeries Lafayette and Printemps mark the début to the season for many Parisians. In my opinion, the characters look possessed.

If that isn’t enough to scare you away, the sidewalks outside the grands magasins are basically the definition of ‘clusterf*ck’.

18. The Christmas markets in Paris are basically all the same.

My first year here, I enthusiastically decided to do them all. Until I realized that they were all identical. There’s the pungent cheese stand, the gingerbread folks from Alsace, lots of crêpes and mulled wine, the nougat stand, and usually some Russian dolls. And a lot of tourists.

19. Elves and reindeer are not widely used Christmas symbols in Paris.

When you start really thinking about it, there are very few examples of these festive creatures in the City of Lights.

15 signs you're from Monterrey

Photo: angelferd

1. You’ve been asked if you’re angry because of the tone of your voice.

“Are you mad?” “Why are you screaming?” These are just some of the questions you may get while having completely normal and quiet conversations with other Spanish speakers. But of course, you’re not angry, it’s just that we hablamos golpeao.

2. You probably say you don’t like banda music.

But every party comes to a point where the mood specifically requires banda.

3. You know all the characteristic sounds of every peddler that passes by your house.

All those people riding bikes in front of your house selling corn, tortillas, ice cream, bread, gas, miracle creams…They all have a recognizable phrase or melody.

4. You’re not easily impressed when it comes to hot weather.

Monterrey is a desert, summers last forever, and we basically only get one month of true winter. Most of the year we live happily under the sunshine with 35ºC weather, but then there are some hellish days when the temperature rises above 40ºC, and yet it’s common to see people wearing black and complete suits to their offices. We are survivors!

5. You feel unprotected when you travel to cities without mountains on every side.

Monterrey is the city of mountains. They’re everywhere you look, so you probably can’t help feeling a little weird and exposed when in cities where you can look up and see only sky.

6. You know how to barbecue.

Monterrey people know their beef and give it a special place in their hearts as a way of bringing family and friends together. Barbecues are perfect for celebrations, but sometimes the barbecue is the celebration itself.

7. Barbecue + beer + sports = the perfect combination.

We don’t always need a reason to barbecue, but when there’s a sports event, these three things are probably going to come together in 90% of Monterrey homes.

8. You know quesadillas are made with cheese.

The name says it for itself, so when we think of quesadillas the picture in our minds is of a flour tortilla stuffed with cheese. We like it simple, which is different from other cities where they get creative and make quesadillas with everything but cheese. If you are a regio in Mexico City for the first time, you’ll probably have a confusing and frustrating conversation with the quesadilla lady while ordering your food.

9. You know that the greatest rivals in soccer can also be the greatest friends, members of the same family, or even lovers.

In other places round the world, two rival fans often hate each other or can’t even stay in the presence of one another. Not here. Followers from UANL and Monterrey’s teams coexist happily in schools, jobs, malls, parks…sometimes even under the same roof. That doesn’t mean, of course, that the team that’s best positioned doesn’t joke at expense of the other one. They do, but everyone knows it’s just for fun.

10. You still miss partying in Barrio Antiguo.

If you were old enough (legally or not) to go to Barrio Antiguo when it was still in operation, then you know the bittersweet feeling of “being happy because you enjoyed it, and being sad because it’s gone.” Barrio Antiguo was a place in downtown that covered 10 square blocks. It was where all kinds of nightclubs were located, and they were all open almost daily. Crowded streets, all music genres, “no cover” bars, all kinds of drinks, nowhere closing at 2am — those were the good days.

11. Your vocabulary includes a huge number

of English words.

Most people in Monterrey are bilingual, but even if they aren’t, English expressions have made their way into their daily conversations. It’s super common to say “thank you” instead of “gracias,” “sorry” instead of “disculpa,” “as soon as possible” instead of “lo más pronto possible.”

12. You have a USA visa.

And 90% of the times you’ve used it have been to go to McAllen, Texas to shop.

13. You’ve been to Tampico or Isla del Padre.

There’s only one thing missing in Monterrey to make it the perfect city: a beach. But that didn’t stop you from enjoying summers with sun, sand and sea, right? Every regio has adopted the two nearest beaches for spring or summer breaks at least once in their lives.

14. You call all of your friends compadre (godfather) and all your friends’ moms, or mom’s friends, tías (aunts).

Just because you love them so much!

15. You are used to paying the highest prices in the country for everything, but you never complain about it.

Compared to the rest of the country, life in Monterrey is expensive. We pay more for school, gas, food, public transportation — in some cases the difference is insane. Sure, when you found out for the first time that you’ve been overcharged all these years, you felt angry and frustrated, but then you just learned to live with it and even took a little pride that you can survive in Monterrey.