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“Here, try this” was probably the phrase I heard most often when dining out with my family growing up.

It was typically uttered by my grandfather, with some morsel of food perched on his fork. As a pretty curious seven-year old, I would peer over and if I could not identify the food (or it looked slimy, or rubbery) I would shake my head emphatically from side to side. Which would then be followed by an even more insistent, “No, try this” as the fork was thrust purposefully in my direction.

I loved and trusted my grandfather, so sometimes at this point I would give him my blind faith and sample the bite on the fork before inquiring as to what I had consumed – if I inquired at all. At other points, I would ask, “What is it?” and then have an internal debate as to whether the ‘ick’ factor outweighed the potential tastiness of the bite. I didn’t always try what was on the fork, but I took the plunge more often than not.

Although many times I was pleasantly surprised at how delicious the taste turned out to be, there was still that rare occasion when I took the bite and regretted my choice. Some unexpected texture or fishy flavor would overwhelm my palate and I would make a face, and possibly not even swallow my food. And then, knowing me, I probably complained in a loud and whiny voice after the fact about being misled.

But of course, the lessons of all of the tastes pushed in my direction were many:

1. You don’t know if you like something or not until you try it
2. People you trust have your best interests at heart, but even with the best of intentions you can still sometimes be misled or disappointed
3. Even though you will feel betrayed at points, trust again at the next opportunity
4. Sometimes you’ll be (pleasantly) surprised by how reality does not align with your preconceived notions

Since starting a travel blog two months ago, I’ve spent quite a bit of time reflecting on how I got here. What is it about my upbringing or life experiences that leads me to travel often and on longer trips than most people I know? Or to be the one of my several frequently-traveling friends and relatives to decide that starting a travel blog was a good idea? (Mind you, it took me a few years of living abroad to come around to the idea, but now here I am!)

Is it something about the family I grew up in? The fact that we travelled a few times a year? Both sets of grandparents being avid travelers themselves, recently in retirement when I was little and taking the time to see the world?

Why did I study abroad when I was just 18 years old, fresh out of high school, when so many of my classmates who ultimately studied abroad during college did so a few years later? Why did I decide that travelling for a month the winter break after September 11^th was a good idea, when most Americans were avoiding air travel? Why did I plan my summer job when I was a teacher around being able to take long weekend trips to visit friends living around the US? Why did I spend two years saving vacation days when I was working in DC, to be able to take a trip that lasted 3.5 weeks?

Of all of the people with exposure to travel growing up, and who lived abroad during their college years, why am I so eager to both carve out time for travel and then write about it to inspire others?

As an adult, like my grandfather, when I am having a wonderful experience (culinary or otherwise!), my instinct is to share it with others so they can experience it, too. When I’ve visited and enjoyed my time in a particular destination, and then I hear that friends will be visiting soon, I want to tell them all about the amazing sights and delicious meals I consumed. Fortunately, as you can read more about in my Welcome Post, I had already been composing lots of e-mails with travel tips for friends who asked. Thanks to my Type A personality, I tend to keep pretty thorough notes when I plan my travel of what to see and where to eat. And not only do I do extensive research before most of my trips, I enjoy the planning! (I know, I know, you’re probably questioning at this point how I didn’t become a travel blogger years sooner.)

Another legacy from grandfather is that he always said there are 3 stages to enjoying a vacation: the anticipation as you prepare, the enjoyment of the vacation itself, and thinking back about it after the fact. He was one to savor all of these, even the sometimes stressful lead-up in planning a week-long vacation for the 15 people in the extended family for our annual summer trip. Why did he take such joy, even during the disagreements or misunderstandings?

This was a man, who as he always explained it “grew up dirt poor” during the time of the Great Depression in the US. He was not one to waste any material good, and certainly not food. He would finish any little bit left on someone’s plate, even if he was already full. My grandfather also ate marrow out of bones — and I don’t mean osso bucco or the luscious marrow you might be envisioning that would be roasted in the oven and served at an upscale, trendy restaurant. I’m talking about the marrow of teeny chicken bones, that he would have to scrape out with a toothpick to eat. So yes, this is a man who savored all of the stages of travel planning, even the not-so-idyllic parts.

In my grandparents’ house in Brooklyn where they lived for over 50 years, there were pictures hung on the wall next to the staircase from the various places my grandparents had traveled together since they were first married. Each from a different location, all exotic and colorful and enticing to me as a young child. These are also the grandparents who saw travel and exploring together as a means for family togetherness.

Starting when I was young, the family would all get together. It started off at resorts in the Borscht Belt of upstate New York (think Dirty Dancing). Then we tried something different, further than a simple drive away. We checked out an all-inclusive resort or two and went on a few cruises. Somehow my mom and sisters and cousins and I got recruited into the organizing phases. Now the vacation planning involves a complex matrix of various schedules and a spreadsheet to narrow down our destination for the coming summer.

Although this process continues today (I’m in charge of the research for next summer), the important part is not the resort or massages or excursions. The important part has always been the time spent together, which somehow always seems to line up into those 3 phases my grandfather always talked about – the before, the during, and the after of travel. It is the shared experience and memory of all of our trips together that provides many of the anecdotes and laughter when the family is around the table together for other celebrations throughout the year. And the collective closeness that comes from decades of ‘Family Vacation’ each summer.

My grandfather always said (in case you can’t tell, he had a lot of sayings he liked to share!), “travel is an adventure in eating,” and he treated our trips together as a way for us all to explore the cuisine of a new place. And still today, three and a half years after his passing, the quality and variety of the food offerings is central to choosing a destination for ‘Family Vacation.’ And certainly in my personal travels, a big component of how I explore and experience a new place is through the local food.

This is the same grandfather who gave me the weekly push at dinner on Saturday night for me to venture outside of my comfort zone, and even when it didn’t lead to the reward I had anticipated, to venture outside of my comfort zone again the following week. To make sure that if he was appreciating something, I would have the opportunity to appreciate it, too.

And that is how I became an avid traveler. And that is how I became a travel blogger.