It was lunchtime at the National University Hall in Bogotá during Colombia Day celebrations. Volunteers managing the food queues asked participants, “Are you regular or vegetarian?” The distinction startled me for a moment—“regular” here meant meat-eating. In India, we use the term “non-vegetarian,” a classification that often carries negative moral undertones. The difference made me reflect on how language and perception are shaped by culture. What is considered routine in one place may be frowned upon elsewhere, and vice versa.
The world is rich in culinary traditions. Travel, for me, has always been an opportunity to witness and embrace that richness. If we carry our rigid food preferences across borders, we not only limit our palate but our understanding of other cultures. I’ve met people who travel thousands of miles only to look for their home food. That defeats the very essence of travel.
During a trip to Kyrgyzstan for the Asia Land Forum, I was invited by a local nomadic community to join them for a meal. Fish, vodka, and good cheer flowed in equal measure. Just as I thought I had reached my limit, a villager approached me with what he called a prized local delicacy—milk from a mare. I politely declined, not because it was horse milk, but because in India we’re told never to mix milk and fish. My new friends laughed it off. “We’ve been drinking it like this for centuries,” one said. That moment was not just about food—it was about letting go of assumptions and embracing difference.
At the Global Land Forum in Bogotá, another delightful surprise awaited us. Milan Sekulović, an activist from Montenegro, hosted an impromptu celebration. At 9 AM, a table was set up with chocolates and shots of Takovo Šljivovica, a Serbian plum brandy. I was initially stunned—alcohol in the morning? But then I understood: in many Balkan traditions, such drinks are a way to celebrate togetherness. There was also Meduška, a honey brandy from Montenegro, taken in the same spirit of camaraderie.
Cultural celebrations are not complete without their foods and drinks. In the Amazonian village of Agua Bonita, the hospitality was heartwarming. Elders conducted ceremonies by sprinkling water using native plants, a tradition reminding me of ancient Indian practices where blessings and nature go hand in hand. Respect for elders, community over individualism, and rituals anchored in ecology—all were deeply familiar, yet refreshingly different in form.
The food in Agua Bonita was unforgettable. One dish—Plato Mojarra Roja Pescado de Lago, plátano, arroz y ensalada roja—was grilled red fish from the Amazonian lakes, served with plantains, rice, and salad. Each day brought a new dish—none repeated, none greasy, all delicious. I recalled the Tandoori Queen fish I once enjoyed in Kerala. From maize and banana to pork and papaya omelets, every meal here was a story.
In Agua Bonita, I also saw what progressive community life looks like. Girls played football in the village ground. A bar next to it was not a male-only space but a family gathering hub. Men and women drank together, elders sat comfortably while young women cared for them. In India, such spaces often exclude women or reduce them to token presence. Here, the community lived its values.
It’s important to reflect: if you can’t let go of food taboos and prejudices, if you feel threatened by someone else enjoying pork, beef, or alcohol, then you haven’t truly left home. To understand a people, one must understand their relationship with food. It is not just sustenance—it’s identity, heritage, and emotion.
Conversations over shared meals often achieve more than hours in formal conference rooms. That’s why, during these field visits, I always make time for informal exchanges. They offer insight, warmth, and memories no lecture can deliver.
I’ve learned never to treat mountains or rivers as mere resources. They are cultural beings—like the food and traditions of indigenous communities—offering lessons in coexistence. We, the urban elite, must learn to value these lessons rather than mock them as superstitions.
So, if you travel, don’t just carry a camera. Carry an open mind. The world is not a monochrome copy of your kitchen or your beliefs. It is vast, diverse, and beautifully complex. Respect it, taste it, and most importantly—learn from it.
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*Human rights defender
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