F E A T U R E S

Come Home with Me
By Don George, Editor
Bahamians go all out for tourism

Cigars, Riding High
By Cintra Wilson
Our resident enfant terrible does the Kentucky Derby

D E P A R T M E N T S

The Surreal Gourmet
By Bob Blumer
Dinner for Dali:
A palette to delight your palate

Passages:
"My Night of Candomblé"
Bewitched in Brazil
By Christopher Hall
- Books on Brazil
- Getting there

Postmark: Moscow
Every Man a Czar
By Arline Klatte
In Moscow, even schmucks from Detroit can savor Cuban cigars and bed Slavic beauties
- Getting there

Readers' Tips and Tales
Do grocery stores reveal all there is to know about a culture?

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Doug McCain | Supermarkets -- Microcosms of Society
09:06am Apr 29, 1997 PST (#3 of 7)

yes! My wife and I visit supermarkets (or any kind of grocery store) everywhere we go. One can learn a lot about a culture by watching what the locals buy, and it's fun to try their specialties. But we gave up talking about this after encountering travel snobs who sneered at idea.

Several years ago, we lived in The Netherlands, just around the corner from a meat market. One day, my wife went in to get some veal. The butcher spoke no English, so negotiations were conducted in sign language. He indicated that there was no veal, but she persisted. Ah yes! He remembered something. He went to the back room and returned with a marvelous slab of meat that was just right. She cooked a fine meal that night. Next day, she told some Dutch friends, and they laughed. It was horse meat. But it was good!

Rekha Murthy | Bad Trips
02:24pm Apr 29, 1997 PST (#2 of 6)

in India, returning to Bhopal from the city outskirts, the bus on which my cousin and I were traveling was taken over by 5 agitated, machine-gun policemen who dragged on two bloody young men and ordered the driver to make full haste to the hospital. My cousin understood Hindi, so we learned that the innocent men had been accidentally shot during a police pursuit of two prison escapees. The errant officer was on board, gun in hand, until two other officers managed to relieve him of his gun after a SMALL SCUFFLE on the SMALL BUS.

All of the passengers got off quickly and safely when the bus reached town, but my sense of personal mortality was greatly heightened. I have traveled since, and will again, but that and other experiences have certainly enhanced the sense of relief I feel when I touch down on familiar ground.

Robert Straub | Americans abroad. Half-baked provincials?
12:05pm Apr 28, 1997 PST (#22 of 25)

your question reminds me of an incident that occurred on a Greek ferry two years ago- A few Canadians were drinking ouzo and working on a healthy buzz when a young man from Sweden made the comment that Americans can't hold their liquor. Well, one of the young Canadian ladies was so enraged at being called an American (it should be noted they had the Canadian flag pasted on everything they owned) that she flew into a tirade that was embarrassing for everyone except all of us provincial Americans. I sipped my Jim Beam and had a good laugh. I don't think there is a country on earth that doesn't have its share of half-baked provincials, and, yes, I'm probably one- unless I'm in San Francisco or Amsterdam in which case I'm a fully baked provincial.

How many Canadians does it take to screw in a lightbulb? Two, one to screw it in and one to tell everyone he's Canadian.

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