Our Travel Plague

Dining in Granada, Spain

Joe and I compliment each other well when it comes to travel.  I do the planning and researching but when we're in country, he'll take care of the logistics.  I keep a list of sites to visit, he'll figure out the public transit.  He's more budget friendly which keeps my expensive eye in check.  Joe prefers to go, go, go checking off every attraction on his mental checklist whereas I like to slow down, enjoy a coffee and take it all in.  He's the ying to my yang.

Regardless of how well we balance each other out, we still have our own little travel plague.

The exploring, learning, sightseeing and walking makes us hungry and both of us can be pretty indecisive when it comes to food.  When the time comes, I want to find that little gem of a place where we can rest our feet, taste something delicious and refuel.  It doesn't have to be fancy, it just has to be good.  This is often easier said than done.

Usually, I start to feel hungry.  (Joe never feels hungry until we actually sit down in a restaurant.)  I casually bring up that we should probably start trying to find somewhere to eat and Joe usually agrees however isn't super motivated to get to it.  An hour will pass as we continue our 5 km jaunt from one location to the next and my hunger increases.  I remind Joe again that I'm getting quite hungry and we should probably stop somewhere and he'll casually agree.  We'll take a look around but everything will look like a tourist trap or not quite what we're looking for.  We agree to walk on.  This process repeats a couple of times as neither of us will make a decision.  Eventually my h-anger sets in (hunger + anger.)

I'm well aware of it and will often warn, "Joe, I'm starting to get grumpy.  I really need to eat now."  He'll often offer an exasperated response along the lines of, "Fine.  Let's just go there," pointing to the dive across the street to which I balk.  We walk on, h-anger increasing exponentially.  Joe will continue to point out any and every place on the street that sells food which really only makes me angrier as they're usually not valid options for me.  We keep walking in hopes of stumbling across THE place.

Eventually, I'll hit a breaking point.  The h-anger will capsize me and I'll rant that we should have ate 2 hours and several kilometres ago.  Joe will note that he's pointed out a billion restaurants but I won't go in any of them.  I'll roll my eyes because suggesting 7-11 is not a reasonable 'restaurant' and provides no help to our situation.  Out of sheer desperation to end the situation, we'll stalk off into the nearest restaurant.  Rarely does it happen to be that gem I had so hoped for but we'll eat, the h-anger will subside and we move on.

I try to be proactive and many times it helps.  I'll take a list of restaurant recommendations from friends and readers.  I'll do a little research, read a few TripAdvisor reviews and take note of this place or that place.  Sometimes we'll ask the concierge or a local that we happened to be chatting to and many times, we successfully eat a lovely meal sans problem.  But, sometimes it just doesn't work out.  We'll end up in a different neighbourhood than expected or we'll make our way to a recommended place only to find it full or the menu not quite what we wanted.  Sometimes we just want a little spontaneity and preplanning doesn't allow for it.

In any case, while it may look like travel is glamourous from all angles, I can assure you that it's not.  Somewhere during the course of our weekend trip to some European city, I will be standing on the street ranting to my husband while taken over by h-anger.

Do you get hangry? 

{Please tell me I'm not the only one!}