Dinner

One of many solo eating experiences - unlimited frites. 

"A family is a group of people who eat the same thing for dinner"  - Nora Ephron

I went on a big train adventure recently; one that took me from lovely London all the way to Sicily to catch up with one of my very good friends. Before our long-awaited reunion, I spent a week on my own exploring some of Europe's finest cities.

Solo travel is absolutely great for so many reasons, but one of my favourites is being able to watch and absorb the essential elements of a new culture that appear completely foreign. With friends, these idiosyncrasies are often lost or unnoticed; alone, they become incredibly apparent.

I noticed in Paris, how everyone flocks to their local 'Boulangerie' at almost the same time, to purchase exactly the same type of bread (or perhaps it was just a really nice baguette shop).

I noticed in Genoa, how going out for coffee in the morning doesn't mean catching up with a work colleague or friend, but literally means gulping an espresso in less than 20 seconds. Standing up.

I noticed in Naples, how nobody really does anything before midday (leading to some nice deserted streets to wander round), and also how the city seems to be destined to everlasting scaffolding, due to lack of funding. 

I realised, far too late into my final 9 hour train journey to Sicily, how Italians like to share snacks with fellow travellers on the train. This led to me joyfully eating lots of biscuits, while simultaneously feeling guilty that I had nothing I could offer in return.

And although solo travel is still one of my absolute favourite things to do, it's got one rather big flaw. No matter how good my book, or how interesting my journal, eating alone just never felt quite right. I found myself in (arguably) the best pesto restaurant in the world; yet my strongest memory is of the slightly grumpy Italian man opposite who saw I was occupying the additional seat and ordered himself some extra bread so that he wouldn't have to share....

In the midst of my travelling I uncovered the quote above, which quite articulately encapsulates everything I love about humans eating together, but also manages to explain the reason eating Neapolitan ragu on my own just wasn't quite as satisfying as sharing Italian burgers with a bunch of people on a rooftop in Palermo. 

There's something incredibly special about sitting down to eat with someone. 

The same meal in front of us, the same shared experience unfolds. I united with a small group of people at that rooftop BBQ because we were all laughing at the lack of charcoal; waiting - mostly patiently - for the food to be ready, and wondering if would ever cook the octopus. (We didn't). There's an intimacy about eating the same food together that leads us to open ourselves up to one another; to converse, share and delight in the company around us.

One of my favourite solo experiences was watching a father and his adult daughter who were obviously catching a quick dinner together. When their pasta arrived, it transpired that the daughter wanted to take a photo of her food, so lifted her phone from her bag only for her father to completely reject the idea altogether. His face, and Italian utterance, was enough for her to realise that the photo was not going to happen. There was much protest; followed by much laughter, at that table. 

Eating together with people we love is one of life's simplest and greatest pleasures. It doesn't really matter what's on that table, the most vivid and memorable meals are the ones that we share together. The simplicity of a family meal transcends all cultural barriers; and the unity of eating the same thing creates new family at the table.

I will probably keep adventuring on my own. But in doing so I'll always be craving a good meal with someone; the sort where I discover something in common with the people at my table. The kind where I find family; community; welcome.