Three students, armed with half-eaten dripping ice creams, surrounded me on the bustling streets of New York’s Chinatown. Breathless and bouncing, with an energy seemingly afforded to only touring high schoolers, these Midwest kids had never been someplace so strange, so massive and so intense.
Their eyes were brimming with delight as they stumbled over each other, racing to tell me what happened.
“Jenna Jenna Jenna! Sooooo we were kind of scared to explore Chinatown but we went down this small street and we saw this little tiny restaurant and we weren’t sure if we should go in but you said we should try something we’ve never had so we did and the owner was so nice but we couldn’t understand what she was saying but it didn’t matter and she helped us order and we think we had that thing called ‘dim sum’ and we don’t really know what that is but it was all so delicious and then after that we found this ice cream place with all these weird flavors like green tea and it sounds so crazy but it’s actually AMAZING!”
High school students, right? The best. They were beaming. I was beaming. As a tour operator, I couldn’t have planned a better moment if I tried.
This, I thought to myself, is why I do this. Right here.
In that moment, my mind flashed to my own memories. I was on my first visit to Sichuan, China, and feeling quite out of place. Eight of us—all strangers to me—were gathered around a circular table, a massive, beautiful hot pot perfectly centered between us. I hardly recognized a single ingredient, and I certainly hadn’t mastered enough Mandarin to ask. (OK, I hadn’t mastered any Mandarin.)
Yet the locals weren’t going to let my fears and language gaps hold me back. They began demonstrating, gesturing enthusiastically with kind smiles and affirming nods, inviting me to try everything.
Then I thought of the time I sat in a small trattoria in Italy, thinking as I dined that, while I had never heard the husky, rich laughter of the chef’s grandmother, I knew I was tasting that legacy of joy in the chef’s bolognese.
And the time I was on a small family farm in the Philippines, where—on an afternoon far too hot, with hosts who had far too little—I was presented a simple, yet profound, dinner of roast chicken and rice. What a gift.
It was never just food. It was an opportunity to glimpse into generations of love and generosity … of identity, traditions, childhoods and memories … of creativity, passion and life.
When we travel, food is offering us not only a way to engage our senses, but also to let go of our barriers. Food is that unrelenting friend that welcomes us all to the table in spite of our differences. It invites us—again and again—to savor not just the meal, but everything.
So, as I watched the last of the students’ green tea ice creams melt in their cones, seeing their wide-eyed exuberance, seeing their timidity turn into empowerment, seeing them embrace a place that was a new and scary mere hours ago, I knew: Through this incredible industry, I’m given the chance to witness, engage and cultivate just these kinds of moments.
This wasn’t only their invitation, but mine as well. What a gift.
Jenna Aukerman serves as tour director for Omanson Tour & Travel in Sioux Falls, South Dakota.
Top photo: The author in action during a culinary tour
Photo by Dykstra Social
