People are generally proud of their food. A willingness to eat and drink with people without fear and prejudice... they open up to you in ways that somebody visiting who is driven by a story may not get.

It’s an irritating reality that many places and events defy description. Angkor Wat and Machu Picchu, for instance, seem to demand silence, like a love affair you can never talk about. For a while after, you fumble for words, trying vainly to assemble a private narrative, an explanation, a comfortable way to frame where you’ve been and whats happened. In the end, you’re just happy you were there - with your eyes open - and lived to see it.

I'm a decent cook; I'm a decent chef. None of my friends would ever have hired me at any point in my career. Period.

The Italians seem to have a better attitude with kids and the food is great!

Do you really want to make risotto to order when you have eight guests sitting there? No. It won't work. Most cookbooks won't tell you that. They will say make it and it will come out perfectly. They should tell you you're probably going to screw it up the first 10 times you make it.

I look at Guy Fieri and I just think, 'Jesus, I'm glad that's not me.'

As you move through this life...you leave marks behind, however small. And in return, life - and travel - leaves marks on you.