As a child I quieted my nomadic spirit by immersing myself in books and traveling vicariously through various lands and various times. I could not accept the static of my life and hoped that some genius would invent a time machine and liberate me from the shackles of my existence. I was a sensitive child, easily seduced by a mere trace of romanticism and adventure, and I followed hundreds of fictional characters throughout their escapades all over the globe and beyond, sometimes as an observer and sometimes as a vicarious participant.
On Friday mornings I would run around the corner to the closest newspaper kiosk to grab one of the first issues of Politikin Zabavnik, the best children’s magazine of all time. They would frequently feature illustrations of boys and girls dressed in ethnic costumes with bubbles above their heads teaching you how to count in the language of that particular country. As I had already fallen in love with the languages, by the time I was in fifth grade I knew how to count to ten in dozens of them.
The next obvious gateway into the world was music. I have attended music school along with the regular elementary school, and studied the theory of music, as well as piano. Listening to the great composers transported me instantly far away from the wooden desks that bore the words carved by hundreds of little hands before me. I walked the clean streets of Vienna with Mozart, shivered in the cold wind of the steppes with Tchaikovsky, rode the unsaddled Gypsy horses with Brahms, and followed a graceful swan around its lake with Saint-Saëns.
Listening to popular music brought me closer to my international peers, and I spent interminable hours taping songs in English, Italian, French, and Spanish from the radio and trying to catch the lyrics, which I would learn by heart and sing again and again throughout the day. No one around me knew any better, and only my older self shudder much later at the gibberish I tried to pass on as the actual songs.
Around the time I was twelve, I started traveling abroad and for the first time experienced life in a foreign country. That summer I spent two wonderful weeks with my grandmother Njanja and a group of Serbian tourist on a Russian sleeping car with a giant samovar* and an elegant dining car. We visited Kiev, Moscow, and Leningrad, and as much as I loved the dense, dark bread and yellow curlicues of butter, I detested all three types of caviar they served at every meal at every hotel that housed us. I also blushed every time I saw a young, rosy-cheeked Russian soldier from the window of our tour bus, imagining that he smiled at me.
We took a road trip with another family entering Romania at its most northern point and driving south all the way to the Black Sea. That was the year I saw “Jaws”, and nothing in the world could make me step into the water deeper than my knees. We continued on to Bulgaria along the sea coast, spent a night in Sophia where my sister and my friend drank the distilled water from the plastic inserts that my parents froze to keep the food cold in the coolers and where I had one of the worst earaches in my life.
I went to Austria with my choir, and when we read “The Third Man” and saw the movie a few years later in college, I brought back the memories from the Prater, feeling the wind in my face as Joseph Cotten and Orson Welles rode the big wheel. I don’t remember what we ate, but I remember the smell of burned human flesh from the crematoria in Mauthausen concentration camp that still lingered in the air after more than forty years.
I spent a day in Hungary with my Aunt and cousin from Vojvodina and ate a marvelously spicy beef stew in a restaurant nestled in an old-fashioned windmill right out of Don Quixote. I spent a month visiting another Aunt and Uncle who lived on the border of Germany, France, and Switzerland, taking care of their small children while they worked and practicing my rudimentary German with shopkeepers in their little town. One of their friends was a train hostess and on a weekend, she took me along on one of their trips north along the East German border, past Hamburg and onto the island of Sylt. As much as I enjoyed the trip, I felt as if I were at the end of the world on the small island surrounded by icy waters of the North Sea.
My curious mind and nomadic feet keep me moving to this day. Visiting different locales and learning about the people and their culture is still one of my biggest passions. But life somehow intervened and made me work around three kids, very limited finances, and even less free time. I packed my bags and boarded a plane several times, but my adventures became virtual and vicarious more and more. Living in the U.S. allowed me to reach beyond the borders and experience the world through food, and even though I know it is not the same, I embrace the opportunity and take advantage of my circumstances.
I want my girls to look beyond the horizon and become true citizens of the world. They are seasoned travelers whose faces break into wistful smiles when a plane flies over the car on I4o5. They hum foreign songs and download the apps for languages. They huddle over the geography atlas and quiz one another on world capitals. It makes my heart sing when they ask me to make Thai noodles, a spicy Indian curry, or a Morrocan tagine. They are adventurous and inquisitive, their young palates already developed enough to pick out nuances and identify the spices.
Through food they continue to learn and explore. They embrace the unknown and yearn to break out of their space as much as I did when I was a girl. And I want more than anything else to give them the strength to spread their wings and take on the world.
HUMMUS
A friend of mine spent a year in Tunisia with Peace Corps in the late 80s and when he came back, we spent days together while he talked and I listened, mesmerized. I would bring wine and he would make something to eat. He made me my first hummus which became a staple snack food in my family.
Ingredients:
- 1 can garbanzo beans (you can drain and rinse them, or you can save the liquid)
- ¼ cup tahini paste
- 2 cloves garlic, minced
- juice of ½ lemon
- ¼ cup water (or the liquid from the beans)
- ½ tsp sea salt
- 3 Tbsp olive oil + 1 tsp for garnish (optional)
- ½ tsp paprika for garnish (optional)
Directions:
Place the beans, tahini, garlic, lemon juice, water, and salt in a blender. Puree until smooth (you may have to stir the contents a few times to mix). Pour into a bowl and garnish with olive oil and paprika. Serve with pita chips or vegetable sticks.
Last year: Chicken and Andouille Sausage Gumbo
Kakvo putovanje, od Zabavnika do humusa! Fantastično! Pročitala sam post sa velikim uživanjem!
Natasa, uvek se prijatno iznenadim kad neko sa našeg brdovitog Balkana navrati na moj blog. Hvala ti mnogo na lepim rečima! Pokušala sam da nadjem tvoj sajt, ali dobijam samo poruku da stranica ne postoji.
This is one of my most favorite snacks to devour! My hubby and I love hummus with a lovely gluten free cracker:-) Your recipe looks fun to make, and really delicious:-) Hugs, Terra
Terra, thanks! Hummus became something that I can whip in minutes, at the shortest notice. I taught a lot of friends how easy it is to make.
What gorgeous pics you took of the food. Looks insanely delicious!
Thanks! I am far from a good photographer,but once in a while I manage to nail a good photo:)
What wonderful stories you tell. I haven’t been to all those places but I’ve been to most of them. I love traveling by train.
Hummus is a staple around here too. It’s dead easy to make and in just a few minutes you’ve got a healthy snack.
Hugs from the other side of the planet.
Maureen, you know that we are kindred spirits! One of these days I’ll come to Australia and we’ll have to meet!
A beautiful post – Dianne Jacob would applaud! I love your writing and story-telling.
Awww, Liz, thanks! I heard you hired Dianne to be your mentor! That’s awesome! Cannot wait to see what comes out of that:)
Lana – This story of your traveling spirit is told beautifully. We are so lucky to have inquisitive children who love to explore the world and the food that goes along with it. Hope we can break some bread together this summer…
I hope that life brings you a bit sout so that we can do something about that bread and wine:) And I would love to meet your kids! I am really thrilled that mine are bitten with the travel bug, even though I know that I will never keep them close to me!
It sounds like you had an incredible childhood with so many opportunities to learn about the world around you. And I love hummus – looks great with the bread xx
Charlie, when you live in Europe, everything is close by and accessible! Another country is a few hours away and traveling is much easier. But, yes, my parents loved to explore and they instilled in us the same sense of adventure:)
Lana, your stories are so thought provoking! It’s amazing to think that food has the power to transport us to places we may not otherwise get to travel to in person. We are huge fans of hummus too! I’m perfectly content eating it by the spoonful but also use it a spread and dip, of course
Azmina, it does not take a lot to make me cross the border, even vicariously:) Yes to eating hummus with a spoon!
Hi Lana. This hummus looks pretty, darn amazing, but it’s your writing and story telling that always gets me. Because of this, and I’m assuming you’ve already been nominated – (how could you not be?) I’ve I nominated you for a Food Stories Award. You can see my post, with your nomination, here..
http://lisamichele.wordpress.com/2012/05/24/caramelized-banana-pudding-cheesecake-with-salted-cashew-praline-vanilla-wafer-crust-for-my-guest-post-at-gingered-whisk/
If you want to accept the nomination, go here – http://foodstoriesblog.com/food-stories-award/
xo,
Lisa
Lisa, you just made my day! I am going to get up now and do a happy dance:) Hugs!
You make this hummus sound so easy to do! Love the travel story & memories that go with it. Thanks for stopping by my blog! Cheers!
My darling Elizabeth, your blog is delightful and I love to experiment with ethnic foods! Cheers back!
Well, beautiful story, but I just have to express my jealousy – at age of 12 you had a chance to visit USSR; at age of 45 I am still planning to do the same
About a year ago, friends from Novi Sad were visiting Rome, knowing what I said about Politikin Zabavnik, they didn’t forget to bring one for me, new edition, of course. It’s still good, but not as I remember.
Yes, I was in USSR, but you live in Italy! Talk about jealousy:) Kad god se nadjem na starim meridijanima, kupim Politikin Zabavnik, mada znam da nije isti:)
Obozavam humus, a i dan danas si ponekad kupim Politikin Zabavnik (mrzi me samo sto moram ici po njega u Hamburg…inace pretplata mu je bezobrazno skupa, kao i za Bazar, pa necu da se pretplatim iz principa:)).
Ja se iz principa ne pretplaćujemo ni na kakve časopise is kraja, jer su stvarno bezobrazni. Ako mi se nešto baš svidi, ja kažem drugarici da mi kupuje svako izdanje, pa kad dodjem ponesem i čitam na miru:)