Keeping the Bourdain spirit

The world became a little smaller this week. Anthony Bourdain died two days ago, and ever since, social media has been overflowing with memories, favorite episodes and well-deserved tributes. Some people leave behind a career. Bourdain left behind a way of looking at the world.

He was never interested in postcard travel. Plenty of television hosts can stand in front of a famous monument and repeat whatever is printed in the guidebook. Bourdain wanted to know who was drinking in the back room, who was stirring the stew, who had survived the civil war, who had the best dirty joke and where the locals disappeared after midnight. Food was just the excuse to start the conversation.

He was a great source of inspiration in the gray media landscape of today, where most people resort to the echo chamber instead of voicing their own opinion. Many travel bloggers that I follow, such as Chris Guillebeau and Rolf Potts, recently mention him as an inspiration.

Sure, he could be a bit harsh and gritty at times, even downright condescending and unfair. Often prone to hyperbole, a part of his storytelling persona. But beneath all the swagger was an endless curiosity about people. At heart he was a great storyteller and managed to bring out unique stories and sharp observations in his own brilliant voice that no other TV host could pull off. Like a R-rated unicorn.

His shows were an unique combination of food, travel and people. I first stumbled across No Reservations more than a decade ago while watching the Travel Channel in Australia. It felt like someone had hijacked a conventional travel show and replaced it with a road movie directed by Martin Scorsese after several beers. Soon afterwards I picked up Nasty Bits in Singapore and became hooked on his writing.

Since then I’ve occasionally found myself following in his footsteps, because it’s fun to compare notes with one of the greatest travel storytellers of our time. I’ve ended up in places like Tokyo, Tucson, San Sebastian and Valparaiso, sitting in bars and restaurants that appeared on his shows, wondering whether they still carried the same magic. But swimming the same deep water as you is hard, as The Cure sang. Perhaps the usual “Hemingway was here” cliché in the guidebooks will start to migrate into “Bourdain ate here”.

Visiting one of many Bourdain locations: La Playa bar in Valparaiso, Chile.

If you’ve somehow managed to miss his work, you’re in for a treat. No Reservations remains wonderfully irreverent, full of dark humor and bad decisions (albeit juvenile at times). There are too many favorite episodes to mention, but be sure to check out the episode where he visit Josh Homme and Queens of the Stone Age in the Californian desert. Yesterday I actually saw a concert with Queens of the Stone Age and was somewhat surprised that Bourdain’s old friends in the band didn’t mention him. At least they ended with A Song for the Dead.

But the voice of Bourdain matured from the food gonzo of No Reservations, as well as the somewhat sleepy The Layover series, into something more sober. The current series Parts Unknown on CNN is where everything came together, as it’s less about food than humanity, politics, history and the strange miracle that sharing a meal can briefly make strangers feel like family. There are many highlights, such as sharing a meal with Obama in Vietnam, even though the later episodes were starting to feel like a Persol commercial.

His books deserve equal attention. Kitchen Confidential still punches below the belt like a bar fight. A Cook’s Tour captures the restless optimism of a man discovering that the world is much larger than his kitchen. Nasty Bits is uneven but has its moments.

“Travel changes you. As you move through this life and this world you change things slightly, you leave marks behind, however small. And in return, life – and travel – leaves marks on you. Most of the time, those marks – on your body or on your heart – are beautiful. Often, though, they hurt.”
–Anthony Bourdain (Nasty Bits preface)

Bourdain taught us that destinations aren’t collections of landmarks. They’re collections of people. The old woman making dumplings. The bartender with terrible opinions. The fisherman who’s been getting up at four in the morning for forty years. Those are the stories worth crossing oceans for.

Cheers Tony. May you find cold beer and blood sausage wherever you are.