There is something exhilarating about hitting the road in a foreign land with five weeks on your hands, an anything-but-inconspicuous van, and little more than a vague idea about how to cross the English Channel.
Whilst browsing the web for a one way flight to Florence (where we had hoped to reside for two months), I got click-happy. It happens sometimes. Needless to say, our plans changed. As a born-and-bred resident of Cairns, Far North Queensland (one of the biggest backpacker hubs in Australia), I tuned in when I read that the spirit of the Wicked campervan was also alive and well in England. I had occasionally envisaged myself cruising along in a vehicle of such cheerful appearance; a dream catcher hanging from the rear-view mirror, a colourful string weave through my hair and Bob Marley's 'steer it up' droning out the warning sounds of a slipping fan belt. So, as you can imagine, when Kane and I heard that half price van rental was on offer, it seemed more than opportune. The prospect of an extended culinary expedition across Europe in a van was too exciting for words. It also struck us as the perfect opportunity to explore smaller regions, which become a thousand times more accessible when four wheels enter the equation . The verdict: an experience I could never put a price on. A couple in their twenty-somethings . 5 weeks. 5 countries. 6100 km and, a few showers short of hygienic (oops! apologies. That officially makes me an over-sharer!) Definitely not the first to conquer this voyage - but i bet no one else created a glorious fresh berry compote on the camper stove for tartlets which were then left to set in nature's elements. I wish to tell all!
3 weeks post-van trip and dare I say, blissfully unemployed, I sit perched on the sofa of our north England home - hot chocolate and note pad in hand. With the aroma of duck stock wafting through our abode, I can't help but revisit the recently lived memories of our time in Provence, where the scent of bouquet garni was ever-present and the luxury of farm-fresh chevre became common-place. Each memory invites another and before long, I find myself feasting on weißwurst in Munich, re-living an unfortunate aspic encounter in Frankfurt, preparing paella on a cliff side overlooking the San Sebastian coast line, and searching for an 'aceto balsamico traditionalle di Modena' production house in the Reggio Emilia region of Northern Italy.
From the mountainous terrain of the German/Austrian alps, to the grape country of the Loire, we saw... we explored. We cooked... we ate. We drank. We laughed. We learned. The link between each region's history and the food culture of today was evident everywhere. Food culture varied from one commune to the next and I couldn't help but acknowledge the significant role that it seemed to play in shaping the values, attitudes and daily routines of the people. When I really think about this, it makes absolute sense. All of these realisations certainly ring true in the case of my own family. My experiences have inspired me delve deeper into the anthropology, culture, history and ethics of food.
As a food blogger, I aspire for my writing to be anecdotal, yet well researched; entertaining, yet informative. I shall dedicate my next few entries to recounting the most memorable cultural and culinary experiences of our van trip, 2011. Enjoy amigos!
As a food blogger, I aspire for my writing to be anecdotal, yet well researched; entertaining, yet informative. I shall dedicate my next few entries to recounting the most memorable cultural and culinary experiences of our van trip, 2011. Enjoy amigos!
