I should start by saying I’m not a foodie. Food is not the first thing I look forward to when I travel. This has a lot to do with me being vegetarian, and always living under the assumption that there may be one item on a menu that does not have meat.
That being said, I have found that the most annoying thing about travelling with a kid (or which many parents will say there are many) is all about food, and not in the way that you would think.
Our kid likes to eat.
Last week, we were skyping with my sister while our kid was eating. (We find that skyping during mealtimes is a good way to keep her from being just a blur to the people we are skyping with as she runs around our flat like a maniac.) We don’t often skype with my sister while our kid eats, due to her schedule, but my sister mentioned more than once how watching our kid eat made her feel hungry; ‘she makes the food look so good’. We’ve had this comment from other skypers in the past, because our kid really likes to eat (unlike many other kids I hear about).
I should say that one more time; our kid likes to eat.
We flew to Berlin today. We landed around lunch time and thought we should get something at the airport. Our kid wanted pasta (I should note that I have grown to dislike pasta immensely because I’m constantly making it for our kid). She was insistent on getting some sort of cold penne thing. I got a couscous salad.
After one bite, our kid declared that she didn’t like the pasta. I said she could taste my couscous. She ate all my couscous for lunch. I ate penne (I should note that I have grown to dislike pasta).
After a bit of a hassle to get from the airport to our hotel (no need to bore you with the details), we got into downtown Berlin. Our kid must have said ‘I’m very hungry!’ about 19 times. All of these times were less than 3 hours after we had had lunch and even after eating some bell pepper, carrots, and candy, the phrase continued time and time again.
After settling into the hotel, we went to find a place to eat. With a kid less than 4, on foot, you’re limited to walking a few blocks from your hotel to find a place to eat. There are a number of great looking restaurants near our hotel - a falafel place that caught my eye, an Indian place, Thai place, Mexican, Sushi. We didn’t go to any of those places. We went to place that had chips and sausage on the kids menu.
Lauren thought the menu looked very ‘German’, so I thought, what the hell, when in Rome...Berlin....why not?
As expected, there was one vegetarian item on the menu - ‘noodles with vegetables’. We walked in to see the place was run by a Chinese family. Sweet, I thought, ‘noodles and vegetables’ might actually be decent (yes, I’m stereotyping).
After much whining from our kid about how hungry she was, the food came. She liked her chips, but not her sausage, she liked Lauren’s beef and vegetables. She liked my ‘noodles’ because they weren’t noodles. They were penne. Seriously? My second penne meal in less than 5 hours. Did I note already how I’ve grown to dislike pasta? I ate it and our kid ate it too (she’s a good eater). Did I hate it? No. Was it remotely what I had in mind when I thought I was getting noodles and vegetables? Absolutely not.
Our kid wanted ice cream after dinner. I like ice cream. There was an ice cream place right next to the restaurant. She wanted chocolate chip ice cream. I asked her if she was sure she didn’t want chocolate. She wanted chocolate chip ice cream. I got the chocolate. She wanted to taste my chocolate ice cream. She wanted to swap. I ate chocolate chip ice cream. Our kid ate the (far superior) chocolate ice cream. Was I happy about this? No I wasn’t, but what am I to do?
Some might say, I’m being a good guy for giving up my preferred ice cream, or meals, for the sake of my kid. Some would say I should let my kid live with her choice. I wish I could be more of the latter when it comes to our kid, but I’m more the former.
I don’t really want to be a good guy who gives up his ice cream to his kid, even though she was given the chance to get it herself in the first place. I don’t really want to be the good guy that passes on an awesome-looking falafel place to eat penne and vegetables. I don’t really want to be the good guy who eats penne he doesn’t want while his kid eats the couscous he would rather have.
I don’t really want to be that guy, but I am. In the end, I don’t like travelling and dealing with our kid’s eating habits. But I want to be the guy who has a child who sees the world. And I’m willing to eat some pasta in foreign countries (I should note I’ve grown to dislike pasta) if it means I expose our kid to the great cultures of the world.
