Travel Memories
What are some of your favorite memories from traveling? I have wonderful memories of Italy because of deliberate planning. From the alps in the north to Sicily in the south, I have been lucky to see some of the world’s greatest works of art, trace my lineage, and eat fine food. But on my last trip, I saw a sight that has risen to the top.
Teglio is a small town tucked into the mountainside of the Italian Alps. On a crisp autumn afternoon, my friend and I had lunch all alone in one of Teglio’s restaurants. The food was what you would expect from a country known for thoughtful cuisine. The presentation looked like a work of art and tasted superb. We ate Sciatt (pronounced shot, a fried local cheese), a refreshing salad, an assorted tray of sliced meats, and a bowl of pasta topped with mushrooms. It was delicious.
As we ate, I noticed a young boy carrying a backpack had walked into the restaurant. He sat down at a table in front of the open entrance to the kitchen. He obscured my view of the chef cleaning counters. We exchanged a few glances and smiles. A few minutes later, I noticed the server was handing the boy an attractive plate of French fries and… wait for it… a bottle of ketchup. It was the first time I had seen a bottle of ketchup in Italy; it was quite the contrast to the bottle of olive oil on our table. I could not make sense why a young boy was eating only French fries in a fashionable restaurant.
After the server removed the boy’s empty plate from the table, the boy got up and disappeared into the kitchen. “Ah, he must be related to the chef or proprietor,” I thought to myself and then aloud to my friend. Soon after his entry into the kitchen, two more youth walked into the restaurant, a boy and a girl. They too entered the kitchen. I glanced at my friend with a curious look.
With a clear view into the kitchen, I watched the young boy don a chef’s hat. The other boy did the same and the young girl pulled her hair back into a ponytail. All three of them put on aprons and stood quietly shoulder next to shoulder like soldiers. They looked intently at something I could not see. The chef I had seen earlier came into view. He was speaking to the youth, gesturing with his hands. I looked at my friend and said with a quiet exclamation, “I think this is a cooking lesson!”
For 30 minutes I watched the chef patiently work with each youth. He taught them ingredient selection, measuring, and mixing. I could see the youth listening, focusing on the chef, and then seeking affirmation of their work. The kitchen was alive with smiles, some giggling, and nods of approval as everyone worked. I was witnessing something special. The art of Italian cooking was being passed down to the next generation of chefs. Teamwork was at play. Joy and pride in their work was obvious.
I wanted to take a picture, so my friend asked the server if I could take a photo of the children and chef. The server spoke to the chef and the youth. Their heads immediately turned toward us, followed by sheepish smiles from behind blenders and mixing bowls. The chef was more than happy to let me photograph the moment and introduced us to his crew. He told us the first boy we had seen eating French fries was his son, and the other boy and girl were his son’s friends. The three youth wanted to make dessert for the children at the local youth center down the street, and the chef told us he was more than willing to donate his time and expertise to their endeavor. He saw it as a touching selfless act of kindness. I couldn't have agree more.
Many of us intentionally plan activities on our vacations so we can experience something that will create memories. Perhaps it’s the unplanned moments that stand out more. Those unplanned moments can be like hidden treasures, found where you least expect them, and they can be unforgettable. Next time you travel, what will you remember?