No Reservations Needed in Parts Unknown
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Considering the life of a fellow traveler.
Anthony Bourdain died recently. I had not given much thought to him in a while. A few years ago I watched a few episodes of his No Reservations series on the Travel Channel. I liked them for the most part, though I thought Bourdain a bit arrogant. Even so, he represented for me, someone who appreciated what it was to travel and experience the extremes, mysteries, and sheer beauty of life that I have never been able to; or maybe I just haven’t had the courage. Even so, the news of his death touched me more than I would have thought, and led me to consider Mr. Bourdain’s life and his televised and literary offerings.
Musing over the episodes of TV I watched of Mr. Bourdain, I recollected one (on No Reservations, I think) where he visited Machu Picchu. Overall, I loved it. It’s a place I’ve long aspired to visit, and I watched the episode for that reason. I remember his struggle to acclimate to the high altitude, noting that the hotels there provided oxygen in their guest rooms. In one scene he sucked on an oxygen hose and lamented over the struggle to get a decent breath.
In that episode, he also noted that most of the best times of his life “began and ended with beer,” and so he had no problem partaking of the local pink beer (that looked like Pepto Bismol to me). He also swam in a stream filled with piranhas when he realized the locals didn’t fear them and even ate them. Beauty. I don’t think I would have done that. Then he rode the Hiram Bingham train to Machu Picchu, noting how the elegance of the train’s accommodations just screamed “AMTRAK sucks!” Whoa. I can appreciate that.
I was less impressed, though, with his dismissal of the Peruvian acceptance of UFOs and things paranormal. I attribute that to the limits of his experience. But shucks, he was there, and I have not been.
The feeling that struck me at hearing of Mr. Bourdain’s passing was, I think, the feeling of the loss of a fellow traveler (spiritual for me, physical for him). Mr. Bourdain sought to feel and know all the extremes of what life is. Consequently, he would eat anything. He would sit at a Japanese restaurant table and eat everything they had to offer—simply to know, and understand, and love the experience (and shock the Japanese cooks).
So I felt compelled to read Mr. Bourdain’s breakout book, Kitchen Confidential. I had long been aware of it and knew it to be the beginning of Mr. Bourdain’s career as a TV personality. So I bought the book and read it, and found it to be what I had expected—shocking, surprising, informational, and inspiring.
Yes, for whatever reason, he left us too soon. You can find my review of Kitchen Confidential here .
Anthony Bourdain died recently. I had not given much thought to him in a while. A few years ago I watched a few episodes of his No Reservations series on the Travel Channel. I liked them for the most part, though I thought Bourdain a bit arrogant. Even so, he represented for me, someone who appreciated what it was to travel and experience the extremes, mysteries, and sheer beauty of life that I have never been able to; or maybe I just haven’t had the courage. Even so, the news of his death touched me more than I would have thought, and led me to consider Mr. Bourdain’s life and his televised and literary offerings.
Musing over the episodes of TV I watched of Mr. Bourdain, I recollected one (on No Reservations, I think) where he visited Machu Picchu. Overall, I loved it. It’s a place I’ve long aspired to visit, and I watched the episode for that reason. I remember his struggle to acclimate to the high altitude, noting that the hotels there provided oxygen in their guest rooms. In one scene he sucked on an oxygen hose and lamented over the struggle to get a decent breath.
In that episode, he also noted that most of the best times of his life “began and ended with beer,” and so he had no problem partaking of the local pink beer (that looked like Pepto Bismol to me). He also swam in a stream filled with piranhas when he realized the locals didn’t fear them and even ate them. Beauty. I don’t think I would have done that. Then he rode the Hiram Bingham train to Machu Picchu, noting how the elegance of the train’s accommodations just screamed “AMTRAK sucks!” Whoa. I can appreciate that.
I was less impressed, though, with his dismissal of the Peruvian acceptance of UFOs and things paranormal. I attribute that to the limits of his experience. But shucks, he was there, and I have not been.
The feeling that struck me at hearing of Mr. Bourdain’s passing was, I think, the feeling of the loss of a fellow traveler (spiritual for me, physical for him). Mr. Bourdain sought to feel and know all the extremes of what life is. Consequently, he would eat anything. He would sit at a Japanese restaurant table and eat everything they had to offer—simply to know, and understand, and love the experience (and shock the Japanese cooks).
So I felt compelled to read Mr. Bourdain’s breakout book, Kitchen Confidential. I had long been aware of it and knew it to be the beginning of Mr. Bourdain’s career as a TV personality. So I bought the book and read it, and found it to be what I had expected—shocking, surprising, informational, and inspiring.
Yes, for whatever reason, he left us too soon. You can find my review of Kitchen Confidential here .
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