When I come to Miami for work, there are usually two things I always like to get: 1) Cuban food, and 2) food from Pura Vida, which is a healthy all-day cafe that does really delicious juices, smoothies, and well-rounded, large grain bowls that vary from vegan options to salmon with endless varieties of vegetables so that you know you are pretty much enjoying a rainbow in a bowl. I come to Pura Vida at least once every work trip, and the food has always been reliable. They have an all-day breakfast menu, and I’d never ordered from it before and decided to order the smoked salmon avocado toast from there today.

That was a bit disappointing because when they brought the plate out to me, it was literally one slice of toast with avocado and smoked salmon… for $13? Usually when places say that they will give you “toast,” it means two slices of bread. Here, it was… one? Granted, that one slice was thick, toasted, and was delicious, but it just looked so sad and lonely on my plate. They sprinkled the top of the mashed avocado with black and white toasted sesame seeds. I had two large slices of smoked salmon. And that was it. This would need to tide me over. until dinner time, and other than the banana I ate for breakfast, this is all I would have eaten today.

The other thing that irked me was that you have the option to pay $3 for two soft boiled/poached eggs. If that’s the case, there needs to be one egg per slice of toast. You absolutely cannot serve two eggs with ONE PIECE OF TOAST. That is so cheap!!!

I’m never ordering from their breakfast menu ever again.

After coming back from JFK yesterday afternoon, I had to head back to the airport, this time LGA, for my work flight down to Miami this afternoon. I wasn’t so sure that my flight would even take off given I could actually see snow falling late morning, yet my flight status still said on time. So I headed to the airport to see hour after hour of delayed messages for my flight. It got me worried, especially since when I checked with the airline, they told me that every flight out to Miami for tomorrow was already fully sold out, so if all the flights today were to get cancelled, the earliest they could get me out was Wednesday evening. I had a Tuesday afternoon meeting scheduled that I couldn’t miss.

Eventually, we finally took off 3.5 hours later, so it could have been a lot worse. But it made me feel even more annoyed given that if they had just been open with us about the situation, I could have spent far less time agonizing this at the airport, where everyone was antsy and nervous, and instead been in the comfort of my own home. But, not like the airlines care.

Today, we connected in Madrid en route back from Brussels to New York, and while exiting the plane at JFK airport this afternoon, Chris realized that Tucker Carlson (that disgusting Fox News host who is partly responsible for chipping away at American media integrity and reducing overall American IQ) and his family were sitting in our cabin on our flight back. I didn’t notice this until Chris pointed out a man in the baggage claim area after we went through Customs, and he asked, “Do you recognize him?” Unfortunately, I immediately did: this racist, immigrant-hating, sexist, bigoted white man was standing within 50 feet of us with his wife and children. And just the sight of him soured the end of our trip.

I immediately messaged two of my most anti-Trump friends, who both responded with disgust. One of them exclaimed, “How un-American of him to spend Thanksgiving abroad!”

If there were fewer people like him in this country, we’d be far better off.

We were so lucky with our trip timing to be in Brussels right when their annual Christmas markets begin — they were just as magical as we imagined. While they weren’t as intensely put together as the ones we’d seen in Germany or Austria, they had all the usual hallmarks we looked for: plenty of delicious food being freshly cooked in front of you, arts and crafts and vendors selling locally made goods, as well as gluhwein and other alcoholic seasonal Christmas delights. The vibe is always fun and festive: local friends and colleagues gathering for a night out to enjoy the Christmas spirit and entertainment, and tourists such as ourselves mingling into all of it. Alcohol is always consumed, but responsibly. It’s one of those aspects that is severely and sadly missing in wannabe Christmas markets in the U.S., whether that is the small ones in San Francisco or the Holiday Market at Union Square or Bryant Park in New York. There are always large signs everywhere noting “alcohol may not be consumed beyond this point” as though you are corrupting all the people who are under age around you simply by having mulled wine behind a certain rope. It’s so silly and ridiculous.

We also did a day trip from Brussels this week to Bruges, a beautiful little medieval town, which also had started its Christmas markets, as well, and we got to enjoy the daytime vibes there, enjoying freshly made waffles, Turkish food, and gluhwein. We also chanced upon a local vendor who was selling handmade Christmas homes, and we purchased a little pink one to add to our Christmas house and village collection at home. I was so excited to have another one to add to our collection: each one documents a different country that we’ve traveled to during our European Thanksgiving trips, and it’s always a beautiful memory to be able to look at our book shelf of European houses and reminisce on our adventures there during the beginning of the most wonderful time of the year. We don’t buy much (that isn’t edible, anyway) during our travels, but these houses are an exception to that. They make me so happy every time I see them in our apartment.

Belgium is a country known for a number of things. Brussels, its capital, is also the capital of the EU, a major government city that people oftentimes think is boring and “skippable” on a tourist trek through Benelux. What I realized after my research is that Belgium, for those truly in the know, is known for a number of things other than beer, waffles, chocolate, and being the home of the EU capital — it’s also known as having quite a peculiar sense of humor, given famous statues such as the Manneken Pis (the peeing boy) and being the origin of many famous international comics, such as The Adventures of Tintin and the Smurfs. Ed would have been so excited to hear that I was visiting the birth country of the Smurfs. Belgians don’t take themselves too seriously. Americans could learn a thing or two from them.

However, I will say that chocolate was very high on the list for me to learn and discover more about while in Belgium. We visited the Choco-story museum here in Brussels (they apparently have other locations, including in Brugges), and learned so much about the chocolate production process, how it’s grown and fermented, and ultimately made into the beautiful bars, truffles, pralines, and drinks we so love today. What was most surprising to me, as I’ve read quite a bit about chocolate production before this visit, was that different cacao fruits have many varieties in the same way that you can have different varieties of apples or mangoes; each of them has a very nuanced taste. So, sometimes, it’s not just the percentage of cacao in your chocolate that is the actual determinant of the difference in taste, nor is it the amount or type of milk, but rather the type of cacao used in the bar. I would LOVE to have a side by side taste of different types of cacao from different countries to see what the actual difference is and if I could notice it!

While planning our trip to Holland, I was already prepared for all the Indonesian restaurants because I was aware that the Dutch had colonized Indonesia. What I had forgotten about was that the Dutch had also colonized other areas of the world, including Suriname, so when my food research revealed that I could also expect Surinamese food, I got even more excited. So, while white-people colonization has clearly had deleterious effects both on people in their native lands as well as ongoing racism against people of color that sadly persists today, the one happy takeaway from all of this awful colonization and pillaging is that these cultures’ foods have fused, creating lots of delicious food to eat across the world. And I get to benefit from eating Surinamese food for the very first time in Amsterdam!

I wasn’t sure what to expect until I took a look at the menu of a spot we chose today. We tried to go to Roopram Roti, but it was unfortunately closed on our last full day in Amsterdam, so instead, we went to Warung Spang Makandra. The service was very friendly, fast, and efficient. We ordered the spang makandra special, which came with fried rice, noodle, chicken fillets, chicken satay, fried egg, potato sambel (almost like a latke), brekedel, and krupuk, a lamb curry with roti, and a large bowl of chicken soup. What all this food conjured up for me was a mix of Indian, African, and Asian cuisine. The curries were like Malaysian-Indian, and the rices and noodles were certainly a fusion of Asian cuisines.

What was very surprising was the chicken soup: it had large pieces of shredded chicken, but what was most notable about it was the broth itself: it was almost smokey, a bit savory, sweet, salty, and umami. It was likely the closest match to Vietnamese pho that I’ve ever had that wasn’t actually pho. It definitely tasted like there were charred or smoked spices and onions used to flavor and sweeten this broth. It was piping hot and so delicious and comforting.

In addition, I was also very surprised by the roti. Surinamese roti, as I later discovered, initially appears to look just like the roti you get in Indian or Malaysian restaurants. Upon touching it and breaking it apart with your hands, though, it seems drier, and then these surprising yellow flakes start falling out of the center of it. Those yellow flakes are ground lentils that are used as filling to make the roti more substantial. They taste very dry, almost buttery when you are chewing them, and they are such a great surprise and touch to roti. It was addictive and a great complement to the lamb curry we had, which had strong similarities with Malaysian curries we’ve eaten before. This whole meal was so surprising and ultimately a learning experience.

Traveling and eating, I’ve learned so much about cultures and fusions and tastes. The overlap of all these cuisines and spices has been so amazing and delicious during this trip.

I first heard of a stroopwafel in my early twenties when a colleague of mine went to The Netherlands for a work trip, and as a treat to bring back for the office, she presented us with bags and bags of these little flat waffle-like sandwich cookies with caramel filling. “Stroopwafels are the best!” she said. “You haven’t lived until you have eaten one of these!” I had one of them, and while I enjoyed it and how soft it was, I wasn’t particularly impressed. They were tasty, yes, caramelly, a bit gooey, soft and with a hint of crunch. But I didn’t find this life changing at all, nor did I think it was anything I would want to haul back to the U.S. with me after visiting Europe.

That was about 9-10 years ago. Now that the world is becoming more cosmopolitan and well, worldly, stroopwafels have already landed right here stateside. Gourmet and on-trend food vendors sourcing stroopwafel-like cookies are eagerly distributing to many American stores, so now, we can easily find these same stroopwafels in our local Trader Joe’s and Whole Foods Markets — heck, some airport stand are even selling these individually packaged.

Fast forward to today, when I finally got to have a freshly made stroopwafel, and yes, this time, my life kind of was changed. Let’s just say right now that a freshly made stroopwafel CANNOT be compared to any old packaged stroopwafel We were at the Albert Cuyp Market in Amsterdam during our last morning before taking a train to Brussels, and we went to the cart that was marked as the original stroopwafel – Rudi’s Original Stroopwafels.

Stroopwafels (this literally means “syrup waffle” in Dutch) originated in Gouda (“HOW-da” the town, yes, of the same name as the famous and delectable cheese) around the late 18th century. They are made with a thick dough flatted in a waffle-like iron, cooked until crispy, then deftly sliced in half. A half is spread with a warm caramel-like filling made from syrup, brown sugar, butter, and a mixture of spices. Then, the caramel begins to cool and set, ultimately binding these two delicious halves together again. According to legend, bakers in Gouda didn’t know what to do with leftover cookie crumbs from their baking, so they would mix together leftover cookie crumbs to form a dough and then shape this mixture into waffles. To sweeten these treats, bakers glued the waffles together with sugar syrup, forming a sweet snack out of ingredients that would have otherwise been thrown away. Eventually, other bakers in the Netherlands jumped on the bandwagon, turning stroopwafels into a national staple.

This freshly made stroopwafel, literally right in front of my eyes, was amazing. Our vendor nearly burned his fingers slicing the thin waffle in half, and in goes the oozing gooey deliciousness that is the golden caramel filling. Served piping hot, the edges are slightly crisp and the wafers are super chewy. And the caramel filling is a true delight: it oozes and sticks and stretches like crazy. It was so much fun to eat and film. And to add to the overall experience, our vendor who sold it to us was so friendly and even agreed to be filmed for our vlog. He discussed his family recipe and business, which his dad started, and he talked about how he continues the family tradition. Others try to copy, but theirs is the original and the best. We were lucky to come during the current month when it’s not as busy because during the summer months, which of course, is high season in Amsterdam, the queues can become quite long.

I don’t have any other fresh stroopwafels to compare this one to, but this was certainly the best stroopwafel I’ve ever had. I’m ruined for the packaged ones forever… not that I ever really cared for them to begin with, especially back home.

Before coming to Holland, what I understood to be a “Dutch apple pie” was an American apple pie, just with a crumb topping. That is NOT what apple pie or appeltaart/”apple tart” is in Holland, nor did that picture in my head prepare me for the life-altering experience I had at Winkle 43 today, a cafe in the Jordaan neighborhood of Amsterdam that has a renowned appeltaart. Multiple local and tourist guides mentioned Winkle 43, not to mention several colleagues who have lived in/are from Amsterdam. They told me I absolutely could not leave Amsterdam without having this tart. And so we went yesterday.

Winkle 43 is a cafe with ample indoor and outdoor seating. Though there may be queues, they are quite efficient with ordering, paying, and giving you your order on a tray. We opted to sit outside since there were no seats available indoors, plus outside, though cold, we’d disturb people less with our filming of my apple pie eating.

Here is what I learned yesterday about a real Dutch Apple tart: it is NOT baked in a regular American pie pan; instead, it’s actually baked in a cake pan, rather a springform pan, to allow for a super high crust and even more apple filling. The filling is big hunks of apples, not slices like in American apple pie; plus the filling is really just sugar with a touch of cinnamon. The top, bottom, and side crusts could be compared more to a biscuit or cookie, very sweet and could even stand on its own. It’s thick, too. If you were to break off a chunk of that crust and give it to me with zero context, I’d be satisfied and think you gave me a really, really delicious shortbread cookie/biscuit. Again, what I just described = NOT American apple pie crust.

Chris and I shared a slice of this sky-high apple tart, and after a single bite, I really regretted getting only one slice to share. That single piece of pie alone could have made this entire trip worth it: I’d never been more blown away by any pie in my life. The crust was just astounding — it was far sweeter than I anticipated, but in a very pleasing way — it seemed like it was made with large granules of sugar, perhaps some variation of a muscovado sugar. Each bite of the crust in my mouth was like a separate little bite of a cookie. And the apple chunks were delicious — oozing with apple flavor, a hint of spice, likely cinnamon and maybe one or two other things. While the bite of the apple remained and had some give, at the same time, some of the apples were just so custardy. I’d never had a more noteworthy apple pie experience ever before this.

And to literally top this all off, Winkle 43 makes their own housemade whipped cream regularly (you can actually see them adding the fresh cream into the whipping machine), lightly sweetened, and you can ask for it either on top of your pie or on the side. This really could not have gotten any better than it was that day.

I’m still thinking about how delicious this pie was. I need to replicate that pie at home someday soon. I’m adding it to my list already.

Prior to even researching Holland, I already knew that The Netherlands is a very bike-friendly country, so much so that in any given city there, you will probably notice that bikers outnumber cars by a long shot. Countless articles I’ve read, not to mention people I’ve met who have either lived, visited, or are from Amsterdam have noted that Amsterdam is very likely the most bike-friendly city in the world, that it could even be stated that bikes outnumber pedestrians, which is mind-boggling to me. The city of Amsterdam has about 400 kilometers (249 miles) of bike lanes. They usually run alongside the streets, but sometimes, it can get confusing when the bike lanes look to cut into pedestrian walk paths. And while bikes are supposed to stay in bike lanes since that’s what they are designed for, very often, you can see bikers in walking paths and on sidewalks. And this is when I, as a first-time visitor to Amsterdam, get confused.

I am all for a bike-friendly city. I do not bike (nor do I have any desire at all to bike, especially in a city like New York), yet I was excited to see all the new bike lanes that have been created throughout Manhattan. But while pedestrians typically have right-of-way when it comes to vehicles, here in Amsterdam, it seems like bikers have right-of-way… against virtually everyone — cars and pedestrians. Maybe it’s just because I’m a foreigner and just don’t “get it,” but why should a biker have right-of-way over a pedestrian? And why would you, as a biker, want to go against a pedestrian when you are a) not wearing a helmet (I didn’t see a single biker wearing a helmet here) and b) likely to fall off your bike in the event that you hit a pedestrian and then get injured?

Looking both ways doesn’t always help either. Several articles I’ve read have said that tourists tend to cause bikers to get into accidents because they do not look. I would argue that we actually are looking, but given some of the bike lanes curve and are not always clearly outlined to someone who isn’t familiar with the roads here, it’s hard to just assume pedestrians will see and understand all of this.

I didn’t realize how much I like cars until I realized how aggressive bikers could be.

The great thing about knowing people you like who live in places that are not your hometown is that when you visit these other places, you get a familiar and local face to spend time with. You can hear their perspective on the place you’ve chosen for your vacation/holiday. You can hear what they think about your “tourist” perspective on their city and get their feedback on whether you’re an idiot or not.

My colleague who is based in our Amsterdam office (who is also Dutch) and his girlfriend met us for dinner during our first night in their city, and it was a very warm welcome. After a red eye flight, a day of walking over 24,000 steps on streets, over bridges, and passing canals, Chris and I were both quite tired. It felt nice to sit in a warm restaurant over an Indonesian rice table and see a familiar friendly face and have familiar conversation. The food varied across the table from mild to very spicy, and they were not lying when they said it was hot!

The only downside of having friends in all these other places is that you will only see them sporadically, if at all. And he’s likely leaving the company soon, so who knows when I will see him again.