How Did We Get Here?
Like many great adventures, our journey didn’t go anything like we had planned.
Returning from a 5-year stint in Rio, we were eager to explore the U.S. before settling down, and mapped out an itinerary to do so over a year’s time. In ironically prophetic fashion, we named our site Planes, Trains and All of Our Meals – a nod to the John Candy/Steve Martin comedy from the late 80’s and our shared appreciation for food. PTAOM.com would be the home for all the interesting stories we wouldn’t get an opportunity to tell while reporting for Latina Magazine’s food and travel site, The Latin Kitchen or as the Natural Beauty expert on About.com.
We were also arranging a few dozen stops along the way to spread awareness about hair donation with a nonprofit project we’d founded to help women with cancer called the Thousand Locks Charity.
Our travel troubles ensued almost immediately when we bought a beater from a “reformed” meth addict just outside of Dallas who’d wooed me on Craigslist with strategically-snapped photos and a tall tale about selling his wheels to fund a trip down the Brazos River – a bucket list adventure for a childhood friend who’d been diagnosed with terminal cancer. A bleeding heart as big as Texas with naiveté to spare, I was convinced our connection was cosmic and was blind to the obvious red flags.
In all honesty, our automobile options were quite limited by the tightest of budgets. We sold nearly everything we owned before leaving Brazil, mostly because we were broke and because wanted to travel lightly. Moreover, our tropical apparel made little sense in the states.
Irvine (that’s pronounced Irvin’ by the way) arrived at our hotel with an entourage, in a ten gallon hat embellished like he was a cowboy Crocodile Dundee. With all the savvy of a snake oil salesman, he chugged in with our chariot – surprising us with a missing the driver’s side window never mentioned before. Already late for a visit to Joe T. Garcia’s and with margaritas on our minds, we agreed to shave a couple hundred bucks off the top and shook hands before heading our separate ways.
Forging toward Fort Worth from the DFW Airport, our little RAV4 sputtered to a stop almost instantly.
In shock, I pounded out the digits to Irvine, who with feigned concern answered…“Is there a problem?”
“It’s gone, darlin',” he drawled, explaining that the whole of our meager savings was already literally up in smoke.
That pivotal moment was like the scene in “Sliding Doors” where Gwyneth Paltrow missies the train. The result was a storybook-worthy series of experiences and a cast of characters so incredible you’d think they were fictional.
We had an opportunity to…
Trade cachaça for a cab ride.
Sleep in a whorehouse-turned-historic hotel.
Spend two nights in a secluded Jamaican resort frequented by Madonna and Snoop Dogg.
Captain a bamboo raft down the Rio Grande.
Be among an intimate group invited to meet with eyewitnesses of JFK’s assassination.
Have dinner prepared by a James Beard Award-winning chef.
…in the first week of our trip.
A mere three months (and three cars) later we’d be in Kentucky, toasting the Maker’s Mark 60th anniversary with Rob Samuels and Dale Chihuly when we first suspected that a little hitchhiker may have come along to join us. Twenty four hours later, we knew for sure.
A wise woman once said to me: “There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One of these is roots; the other, wings.” — Hodding Carter
Nothing grounds you quite like parenthood, and my pregnancy pushed us toward the reluctant decision that I’d give birth and then we’d “settle” – planting our family’s roots once again in my birthplace: Cleveland. Returning to my hometown after its post-recession revitalization was like a rebirth for us, too. In a nutshell, it didn’t feel like “settling” at all…it feels like home. A gift to rediscover with new, more appreciative eyes.
As the saying goes, our days are numbered, and consequently – so are our meals. That in mind, we strive to refine, revere and relish each one. Beyond exploring ways to build skills in the kitchen, PTAOM.com will tell the untold tales of our travels and our time spent close to home, showcasing culinary charity, chefs, communities, cultures, and curiosities.
Our agenda has changed, but the adventure continues…we hope you enjoy the ride.
