(Photo Courtesy of Tammy at www.gingermantra.com)

I haven’t blogged in a while because I have been working 90-hour weeks to get our new Tallahassee restaurant off of the ground. Thanksgiving Day will be my first day off in over two months (and I thought lawyer hours were rough!). Despite the long hours, I am happy – things are going great, and I am really proud of what we are building. But when I saw this restaurant review making the rounds on Facebook, I had to make some time to share my thoughts.

In addition to professional food writers, it seems like everyone has a food blog these days, or is dying to chronicle each dining experience on Yelp or Facebook or Urbanspoon or Tripadvisor or Twitter or one of the many Apps that are now so numerous that I can’t keep up with them. It is a fun time to love food and it is easier than ever to connect with other foodies. One of the first things that I did when we opened this restaurant was to invite local food bloggers in because I was excited to share what we were doing with people I knew would appreciate it, and it turned out to be a great experience that allowed me to meet some really smart, fun people. Our restaurants have benefitted a lot from kind reviews in magazines, blogs and on the internet, and I am always grateful for people who recommend us to others.

But there is a dark side to this trend – the casual (usually anonymous internet) critic – the not-so-nice guy who seems to live to tell you everything you are doing wrong. He knows exactly how to run your restaurant because he watches a ton of Food Network (just like I know exactly how to do brain surgery because I watch Grey’s Anatomy). Plus, he thinks it is too expensive. He often stretches the truth to justify his outrage: he waited hours for a table (25 minutes) his bill was nearly $100 ($75 for five people – that’s about 15 dollars a person for a drink, salad, and artisan pizza made from scratch daily), and the service was terrible (Canadian bacon is not a topping option – this is apparently such a big deal that he felt he needed to be so cruel to the waitress that she could barely hold back her tears). Imagine going to your job every day knowing that each and every move you or one of your employees made would likely end up on the internet. “Joe is a decent bank teller, but his tie was a bit crooked today, so I will be taking my business elsewhere.” “Jane stuttered twice in court today. What a terrible lawyer.”

“Who cares?” You say? I do. My family does. My employees do. I don’t do this for the money – I was making a lot more as a lawyer. I do this because food is my passion. I wake up every day and put every ounce of my energy – my heart and soul – into making food and presenting it to people in a way that will please them, as do my parents and my brother. And goodness knows, we are far from perfect at it – in any new venture, mistakes will be made. And if a mistake is made, we want to hear about it and are happy to correct it. By all means, if your food isn’t cooked to your liking, you should (kindly) let your server know so it can be remade. Unhappy with your service for some reason? Please discuss it with me so I have the opportunity to work with that server and help them to improve. Think we are too expensive? Take a hike. This isn’t Little Caesar’s. (And I refuse to participate in the race to the bottom that you see among chain restaurants these days. There are plenty of places that use cheap, low-quality ingredients to choose from if price is your primary concern).

Criticism, when it’s not constructive, is just mean. Writing nasty, flippant reviews on the internet doesn’t make you a “foodie” – it just makes you an asshole. If you don’t like a restaurant, don’t go back. (I understand that it was the NY Times reviewer’s job to go back, but if the restaurant is really that bad, it probably wasn’t worthy of a NY Times Review in the first place). Why expend so much energy to make people feel bad? For the record, I find Guy Fieri’s TV persona as obnoxious as the next snooty, food-loving yuppie, but, still, my heart sank reading that review. I have never been to any of his restaurants, nor do I know his level of involvement in them – maybe he just slaps his name on them and laughs all the way to the bank. But what I do know is that running (and working in) a restaurant is damn hard, and I also know what it feels like to have someone slam your efforts on the internet. And I am sure that there are managers, and servers, and cooks, and bussers and dishwashers in that restaurant who work very hard, and didn’t deserve to be embarrassed like that.

So the next time you are blogging or Yelping or Tweeting, remember that there are real people working in those restaurants, and please think about how your words will make them feel.

I suppose it is inevitable that a food nerd also become a wine nerd, or vice versa. I have always enjoyed wine, but spending three full days in Stellenbosch and Franschhoek drinking and eating the best that South African wine country had to offer turned me into a full-blown oenophile.

If you haven’t tried South African wines, you are missing out – South Africa produces some phenomenal wines that represent a great value.

We have a few South African wines on our wine list at Joe Mama’s, so I was somewhat familiar with them, but didn’t feel super knowledgeable about the best producers, so I started researching. And researching some more. I found some great articles in Wine Spectator magazine and went to work mapping out the wineries I wanted to visit.

I visited a bunch of different wineries, and tasted countless bottles (don’t ask for exact numbers, things got kind of hazy after the first stop). Of course, all of the restaurants in the area have extensive wine lists, so I was even able to try wines from producers that I didn’t have time to visit.

Here are some of the highlights:

My Three Favorite Wineries:

Thelema: This was my first stop and, honestly, I could have camped out there for the entire three days and been perfectly happy. The tasting room was chic and modern, but the crackling fireplace gave it a cozy feel. I loved all of the wines that I tried here. My favorites were their “The Mint” Cabernet Sauvignon 2008 and the Thelema Rabelais 2008, a full-bodied Bordeaux-style blend that I ended up buying a case of. I already drank one bottle, but am planning on having the self-discipline to cellar the rest. Probably.

Boekenhoutskloof: No one can pronounce this name, so don’t worry about it. This winery was at the top of my list because they keep winning awards from people that know a lot more about wine than me (like the people who write the John Platter Guide – the definitive guide to South African wines), and because I had tried their Chocolate Block wine in Vegas a few months before and absolutely loved it. The Chocolate Block is a blended red wine. The 2010 vintage consisted of Syrah (72%); Cabernet Sauvignon (13%); Grenache noir (7%); Cinsault (6%) and Viognier (2%). And it is every bit as delicious as the name sounds. Unless you open it 5-7 years too early because you couldn’t wait, in which case it is still delicious, but a little (okay, a lot) greener than the 2009 I tried in Vegas. Oops. I guess that just means I need to buy a few more bottles to hold on to…

Vergelegen: This property was absolutely breathtaking. You can enjoy your wine while overlooking, or wandering through, the expansive gardens. This is where President Clinton sampled wines when he was visiting South Africa, and if it good enough for Bubba, it is good enough for me (also, it has won heaps of awards). All of the wines there were lovely, but their 2010 Vergelegen White blend (41% Sauvignon Blanc, 59% Semillon) ended up being one of my favorite white wines of the trip.

Additional Bottles To Try: Haute Cabriere Chardonnay Pinot Noir (I love Chardonnay and Pinot Noir, so this unique blend was instantly appealing to me, I would bathe in this wine if I could); Stony Brook Vineyards Ghost Gum (their award-winning flagship Cab blend in the Bordeaux style, aged in oak for 32 months), Waterkloof Sauvignon Blanc 2006 (a very drinkable, lightly fruity, crisp wine).

For those of you who haven’t already heard, after spending the last year of my life in 18 different countries, I am back in the good ‘ole U S of A. Fellow travelers warned me that returning home after nearly a year on the road would be difficult, and they were right. On the one hand, I was overjoyed to see my family, my dog, and Magic Mike (Hell yes! This country rules!). On the other hand, after experiencing so many things, and spending a year living a life that is so different from the reality of most Americans, it is sometimes hard to relate to people at home.

Like the other day, when I overheard two women complaining about having trouble finding an expensive designer handbag and I wanted to shout “I saw a baby die in Ethiopia! Probably of a preventable disease!” But I didn’t. Because it would have been really awkward. But I do really wish that those women knew how many vaccines that stupid handbag could pay for… Or how many days of travel in Ethiopia it could pay for so they could get out there and see the world for themselves and stop complaining about such seriously stupid sh*t. My point is this: I am not the same person that I was a year ago.

Traveling inspired me to reevaluate my priorities. (Or maybe reevaluating my priorities inspired me to travel?) I was reminded that, as far as I know, I only have one shot at having an awesome life, and then I am going to die. (And I am damn lucky to have that one shot. In many parts of the world, people are born into much more difficult circumstances that are nearly impossible to overcome, if they survive childhood at all.) So I decided not to go back to the practice of law. Instead, I will build a career around my lifelong passion and the initial inspiration for my year of travel – food (and keep the promise that I made to myself long ago: that I would be my own boss by 30). My parents created an amazing and successful restaurant concept that I will be helping them to expand. I am super excited about opening our second location in September. (Shameless plug: Like us on Facebook!) In the meantime, I have been learning the business and rotating through all of the restaurant positions so that I can master and teach them to future employees. It has been hard work, but also a lot of fun.

One night, I was bartending and one of the customers began to chat me up. He overheard me discussing my travels and wanted to know when I would be returning to the law firm. When I told him I wasn’t planning to go back, he sneered. “What are you going to do with your life, then? This?” He gestured around the restaurant. I summoned my newly discovered inner-Buddha, said, “Yep,” and walked away. But my inner Miami biz-natch wanted to grab that guy by his ugly necktie and say, “I spent the last year of my life in 18 different countries. I ate in the best restaurants in the world.

I did yoga in India. I climbed mountains and volcanoes. I swam with whale sharks. I bathed a baby elephant.

I hugged tigers. I watched the sun set over countless beaches and swam in warm, crystal clear oceans. I got lost and then found my way back. I touched the cool marble of the Taj Mahal. I made lifelong friends. I relied on strangers. I wandered around the ruins of Pompeii. The beauty of the Hagia Sofia brought me to my knees. I lost myself in Barcelona’s Picasso museum. I drank too much wine in Rome while the city erupted in riots around me. I was dwarfed by the magnificence of the Acropolis. I learned traditional dance in Ethiopia. I saw the killing fields in Cambodia. I ate my way through Vietnam’s delectable street food offerings. I wandered along the Great Wall. I hiked through small Burmese villages filled with the sounds of children’s laughter. I craned my neck to look up at the tallest building in the world in Dubai. I explored the temples of Angkor Wat. I rappelled down a huge waterfall.

I stared down a rhinoceros. I drank the best wines that South Africa had to offer. I fell in love with an amazing man. And now I am working hard at something I believe in – creating a great food experience that will bring people joy. What are YOU doing with YOUR life?” But, again, that would have been awkward.

I have written before about my love affair with Ethiopian food, so Ethiopia was obviously at the top of the list of countries I was looking forward to visiting. But I was frequently met with puzzled looks when I mentioned my plan. Ethiopia is a bit off of the beaten tourist track, but it shouldn’t be. It is a beautiful country with amazing sights and scenery. The people are friendly and excited to share their culture, and the food was even more delicious than I expected.

Now, I’ll be honest here – Ethiopia is not the most comfortable country I’ve visited. It is still a developing country, which means that sometimes you will have power and running water and sometimes you won’t. The accommodations were adequate and clean, but often shabby. During long bus travel (and bus travel can be LONG given the quality of the roads and the tendency of the buses to break down), the driver will pull over once for people to relieve themselves . . . right along the side of the road. And don’t even think about taking a minibus if you value your personal space and/or safety.

But if you can get past those minor annoyances, you will get to enjoy touring the amazing rock-hewn churches of Lalibela (awe-inspiring structures carved right into the stone), feeding hyenas in Harar, a boat ride on hippo-filled Lake Tana to visit the surrounding monasteries, a jazz club in Addis Ababa, and being surrounded by baboons in the Simien Mountains.

So what are you waiting for? Here are a few tips for your trip:

Fly domestically between cities. Although the roads in Ethiopia are rapidly improving and coach buses are now available for travel between most destinations, flying on Air Ethiopia is surprisingly affordable (around $20-70 for a one way ticket). Do not book your tickets online, though – tickets are half of the price when purchased at one of the many Air Ethiopia offices around the country.

Hike in the Simien Mountains, but do not pre-book a tour package. It is much cheaper to go to the park office in Debark and arrange your guide, cook, porter, etc. there, and you will also be helping local people to earn a living. (Feel free to email me if you would like the contact information of the guide we used). If you are planning a multi-day hike, you should buy your food and supplies before arriving to Debark, which is a very small town.

Be prepared for power outages. Bring flashlights and books that don’t require charging. Bring supplies for taking bucket baths when there is no running water.

Use local guides. In most towns, young college-aged men speaking very good English will approach you to offer (or in some cases, impose) their guide services. As long as you agree upon a price and exactly what the service will entail up front, this is a great way to experience Ethiopia with a local. It is kind of like renting a friend (and will usually run you less than $20 a day). In addition to taking you to see the sights, they can recommend restaurants, bars, and hotels. (But be aware that they may get commissions for taking you to these places). One guide took me to a bar that was packed with locals playing traditional music and dancing. It ended up being one of the most fun nights of my trip – I was the only tourist there, and I never would have found it on my own. I still keep in touch with some of the guides I used, and would be happy to share their contact information.

Generally, when I write a post, I have some noble purpose in mind, like inspiring others to travel or sharing other (mostly food) cultures with people who haven’t yet had the opportunity to experience them first hand. But this post is very different. I have one goal in mind. To make you jealous. Very jealous.

The Maldives (pronounced Maaaaaaaahl Deeeeves, when you’re feeling especially snooty) are a chain of coral islands south west of India, populated largely by luxury resorts only accessible by sea plane.

The Maldives are not on the typical backpacker route. This is the kind of place you go to celebrate your Nike endorsement or winning a show called something like American Talent So You Think Your Voice Can Be An Idol or whatever. (I haven’t watched TV in a while). But my mom tells me that I am special all of the time, so I figured that I deserved to go there, too. I flew from Kerala, India to the capital, Male, where, after enjoying a cool, fruity beverage in my resort’s private lounge, I boarded a small seaplane. The view from the seaplane was spectacular – nothing but tiny islands in bright blue water so clear that you could see all the way to the bottom.

After about 20 minutes, we made a smooth water landing and I was ferried to the tiny island that the resort inhabited. I was instructed to take my shoes off, and I didn’t put them back on for the next five days. Even the resort’s reception area was right on the sand! My room was a beautiful bungalow that jutted out over the sparkling water, with a private balcony and steps into the sea.

The resort was surrounding by a gorgeous coral reef, making for spectacular snorkeling right off of my bungalow. There were sea turtles and dolphins and cuttlefish and small sharks and rays and more brightly colored fish than I ever knew existed.

The resort even offered an excursion to swim with whale sharks – I swam with three of them – one of the most amazing experiences of my life.

There were two restaurants, both offering spectacular food and wine. One of the restaurants was built over the water and had a floor that opened up in the middle so you could watch the sea life swim underneath while you dined. Every day was perfect. I sunbathed and snorkeled all day, and then drank a cocktail while watching the sunset over the water, follower by a delicious lobster dinner over a bottle of wine.

When it came time to leave, I actually shed a few tears. I cried in part because I was sad to be leaving, but mostly because I felt overwhelmed by how lucky I was to have had the chance to visit such a special place.

So, I am not too proud to admit that I did not know anything about Pushkar before my driver dropped me off there. It was a necessary stopover to break up the long drive between Jaipur and Udaipur, and I didn’t even bother to crack open the relevant Lonely Planet chapter until I arrived. The town is situated around a lake that is thought to be holy – Gandhi’s ashes were spread there.

LP promptly informed me that because Pushkar is such a holy place, no one sells meat or, more tragically, booze. No beer. No wine. Nothing. Expectations were low. I first strolled around the lake, where many people were bathing, and many “priests” – some legitimate and some legitimately annoying – hand out flowers to drop in the lake for a donation. I sat down to eat lunch, and was pleasantly surprised by the delicious vegetarian fare and fresh juice. On the way back to my hotel, I passed a few camels and a guy offering rides. It seemed a bit touristy, but the camels appeared to be healthy and I didn’t know what else to do with myself, so I agreed to a two-hour ride.

I set off into the desert outside of Pushkar with my two young drivers, who were friendly and happy to chat about Pushkar and the villages that they lived in. Riding a camel was surprisingly easy compared to riding an elephant – it even had a nice, comfy seat. When I rode an elephant in Thailand, I just sat on his head, so the cushion seemed like quite a luxury. The desert was beautiful as the sun began to set over the rolling dunes and everything took on a golden hue. I experienced some of my first moments of true peace in India. And then it got even better. “You like beer?” One of the drivers asked me. “Um, yes.” “Well, beer is not allowed in Pushkar, but I know a place that sells it out here.” Score! We parked the camels. “You guys want a beer?” I asked the drivers. The first one quickly agreed. The second one sheepishly shook his head. “How old are you?” I asked him. “12.” Crap. I almost bought beer for a child. “How about a Coke?” That he happily accepted. We sat on the dunes enjoying our beverages, watching the sunset, and trying to keep too much sand from blowing into our eyes. A baby camel wandered by on wobbly legs with his mom – he was only a few days old and his eyes hadn’t even opened yet. Baby camels are adorably awkward.

As we trotted back towards my hotel, I felt a little sad that I wasn’t spending more time in Pushkar or doing a longer trek through the desert. It is definitely worth checking out, and even enduring a few sober, meatless meals for.

Like Bangkok, my introduction to Delhi was not the smoothest. When I landed just before midnight after a long series of flights from Seoul via China, I was informed by an employee of China Southern Airlines that my bag would not arrive until the following evening. I have experienced baggage delays many times before, and wasn’t too worried about it, although I was annoyed by how long it took the employees to fill out the paperwork – nearly an hour – and the fact that I could not get a straight answer about whether I would be compensated for the delay. Whatever. I hopped in a taxi after the driver assured me he knew where my hotel was and we agreed on a price. I quickly became nervous about the driver’s odd behavior and erratic driving. At one point about 5 minutes into the ride, he pulled over, got out, and splashed water on his face – he had either been awake for a very long time or was on something. He also had no idea where the hotel was. Great. After a long, creepy ride, I finally arrived at the hotel, checked in and passed out.

The next morning I set out to explore Delhi – my first planned stop was the Red Fort. I hopped into a tuk tuk (or autorickshaw, if you prefer) and set off. The driver told me he first wanted to take me to a “government-run tourist information office” to get a “free map.” This isn’t my first time around the block in a tuk tuk, so I declined. And declined again. And again. He wouldn’t drop it, and my aggravation turned to anger when he pulled up in front of the office. (If you are not familiar with these types of scams, unscrupulous tuk tuk or taxi drivers try to divert tourists to shops that pay commissions, and often sell fake items, or “information offices” that pressure you into buying a tour package or airplane tickets. These tickets are often overpriced or, worse, fake.) I refused to get out of the tuk tuk. I dropped some F-bombs. Some sketchy dudes came out of the office and told me that the Red Fort – one of the biggest tourist attractions in Delhi – was closed for the day. I dropped a few F-bombs on them, too, and they finally seemed to get that they weren’t fooling me. The tuk tuk driver drove me another half a kilometer and then his tuk tuk “broke down” in a busy intersection. He had the audacity to suggest that I pay him the full price that we agreed upon, and he would help me find another tuk tuk to take the rest of the way. I had had enough. I got out and refused to pay him the amount he was asking for. We both dropped a few F-bombs before parting ways. I walked around the goat in the middle of the intersection (WTF?) and caught a rickshaw to the Red Fort, which, miracle of miracles, was open.

India and I were not off to a good start, but my feelings started to change once I entered the fort. May is a huge month for Indian tourism, and the fort was filled with Indian tourists and only a few western tourists. People were very friendly, welcoming me to India and asking me for pictures – I even took a few holding people’s babies!

After the Fort, I popped into a great restaurant called Saravana Bhavan for lunch. The food was delicious. I ordered a vegetarian thali – a plate that comes with basmati rice, various vegetable dishes, creamy yogurt sauce, and a sweet or two. I also ordered garlic naan, which was hot, buttery, and garlicky. After the meal, I was served a bit of anise and sugar – kind of like an after dinner mint, but better.

Over the next few days, I saw many of Delhi’s sights and ate at some great restaurants. Delhi grew on me, although dealing with touts, tuk-tuks, and taxi drivers was exhausting – I finally sprung for a private driver just to avoid dealing with them.

Two days later, China Southern called to say I could pick up my bag at the airport. Once I arrived, it took nearly 4 hours to get my bag back – 45 minutes of waiting for their agent to meet me at the gate, obtaining a security pass to enter the airport, paying the customs officers for “storing my bag” (extortion – and there were hundreds of bags in “storage” so I would suggest carrying-on on your next flight to Dehi!), waiting for them to “check” my bag, which consisted of them asking me what was in it (they never even opened it, despite claiming that it was held because of “something” that showed up when it was x-rayed), and endless paperwork. Before I was allowed to leave the airport, China Southern made me write a note acknowledging receipt of the bag. I felt like a hostage being forced to write that everything was fine and my captors were treating me well. To add insult to injury, another girl who was there picking up her bag told me that she was paid about $30 by the airline for the delay and the cost of her return trip to the airport. When I inquired about this, the two airline employees present not only refused to pay me what I was owed, but also refused to provide me with a claim form, and suggested I email them. They gave me a Hotmail address! Ridiculous.

Before coming to India, many people told me how much I would love it and many people told me how much they hated it. Two weeks in, I can understand both perspectives. India is amazingly beautiful – full of bright colors, music, and exotic smells and tastes. The people are generally kind and have a good sense of humor. But, especially in the major tourist areas, it can feel like people are constantly trying to take advantage of you – whether it is by making the wrong change, harassing you relentlessly and sometimes even grabbing you to try to get you into their store or to give them money, or even lying to you about where something is or whether it is open to try to divert you into their business. I have, of course, had similar experiences in other countries, but those experiences were isolated. In India, they were unfortunately commonplace. But, if you ask me, it is definitely worth enduring India’s annoyances to admire India’s beauty – more to come on some of the amazing places I have visited!

There isn’t a lot to do in Shanghai beyond shopping and sipping fancy cocktails in a fancy bar with a fancy view of the city’s skyline. But Shanghai’s dining is unrivaled, and the dumplings alone made Shanghai worth the trip. Here are my suggestions for where to get the best dumplings Shanghai has to offer.

Best Soup Dumplings in Shanghai – Xiao Long Bao

Shanghai is home to the soup dumpling – Xiao Long Bao. If you have never had a soup dumpling, you are missing out. My mouth is watering just thinking about opening up a steaming bamboo basket full of those beautiful, delicious little soup dumplings. They have delicate skins and are often filled with pork or, if Shanghai has you feeling fancy, pork and hairy crab roe. They also have a little bit of soup broth inside of them, so when you pop one in your mouth, you experience an explosion of juicy pork goodness. (Make sure to let them cool for a minute first – they can be like hot lava straight out of the steamer!). They are often dipped into a tangy sauce containing a mixture of soy sauce and vinegar, and maybe a bit of garlic or ginger.

I ate at two great places:

Jia Jia Tang Bao – 90 Huanghe Lu by Feng Yang Lu. Closest metro: People’s Square. Cash only. Hours: 6:30 am- 3pm. I had to wait in line to get into this place and was told that they often sell out by 1 p.m, so go early.

The place was packed with locals and a few foodie tourists. I ordered a few baskets of the pork soup dumplings and squeezed myself into an opening at one of the long cafeteria-style tables. The dumplings were amazing – the skins were so delicate that they were translucent, and they were filled with a bit of pork and a very flavorful broth. While the dining room was nothing fancy, they make the dumplings to order right in front of you, which was great. They were also a steal at less than $2 per basket of pork dumplings.

Din Tai Fung – Inside the Xintiandi Plaza, Xintiandi, South Block Plaza, 2nd Floor, Lane 123 Xingye Lu, near Madang Lu. Closest metro is Huangpi Rd. (S). Credit cards are accepted. Hours: Mon-Thu 11am-3pm, 5pm-midnight; Fri 11am-3pm, 5pm-1am; Sat-Sun 11am-1am.

This is actually a Taiwanese chain, but it was rumored to have the best soup dumplings in town, so I suspended my prejudices in favor of mom-and-pop operations and gave it a go. It is an upscale operation, and there was a 25 minute wait even at 2 p.m. The soup dumplings were every bit as good as those at Jia Jia Tang Bao, but ten times more expensive, costing nearly $10 a basket. Both the pork and pork and crab roe dumplings were delicious – although I preferred just the pork – but I made the mistake of ordering additional dishes which ranged from unremarkable to remarkably un-good.

Best Fried Dumplings in Shanghai – Sheng Jian Bao

Yang’s Fry Dumplings: 97 Huanghe Lu (near Fengyang Lu) (right across the street from Jia Jia Tang Bao), nearest metro: People’s Suqare. Cash only. Hours: 6 am – midnight. Expect a line and be ready to fight for a seat.

Hands down, the best fried dumplings I have EVER eaten were at Yang’s Fry Dumplings. They were also cheap, at around $1 for four large, filling dumplings. These dumplings have a thicker, puffy, doughy skin and are pan fried to be crispy on the bottoms. They are also filled with pork and a delicious broth, but be careful! They are super hot – you need to bite a small hole in the top to release the steam before you chomp down on one or else you will burn the heck out of your mouth. Sadly, no one shared this little tip with me, and my mouth suffered for it. These dumplings are also made right in front of you – the smell while you are waiting in line in positively torturous.

The rain was coming down hard, which was unusual for April in Phnom Penh. It was a Saturday night, but Pub Street was only half full of tourists darting between bars, trying to stay out of the downpour. I had my jacket pulled over my head, looking for someplace to hide from the rain when I felt a tug on my elbow. It was a small boy. “Please, I don’t want money, just food.” He was joined by a girl who looked to be about 7, with a baby swaddled to her chest. They all looked dirty and disheveled.

I looked around and spotted a banana pancake stand. “You want pancakes?” I asked them. “No, we need milk for the baby.” They pointed at a nearby grocery store. I agreed, and started heading that way. “Why are you doing this?” My traveling companion called after me, a little irritated by the detour. “How could I say no?” I thought to myself. The kids led me into the store and to the infant formula isle and pointed to the can they wanted. They wanted three, but I only had enough cash for one (it was $11, a tidy sum in Cambodia, where a tuk tuk driver probably earns less than that on an average day). After I paid, they thanked me and ran off. I later saw the same girl on the street, no doubt making the same request of others.

Let’s be clear – I am no sucker. I know that they probably sold the formula, or returned it to the store and kept some (all?) of the cash. Nonetheless, my heart went out to them. Even if it was a scam, I know that they didn’t dream it up – kids don’t want to be in the street begging for money, or selling flowers or trinkets, they want to be doing kid stuff. Some adult has undoubtedly put them up to it. On that particular night, some adult knowingly sent children and a tiny, defenseless baby out into the rain to make a few dollars. It is heartbreaking and exhausting to be asked for money from children again and again.

That night, I just ran out of “no”s. I gave money to those kids. I gave money to a severely disabled man on the street. I gave money to a sassy little girl selling flowers after she called my dinner companion a ladyboy and beat him in an epic three-round Paper, Rock, Scissors battle.

Did I do the right thing? Honestly, I don’t know. Normally, I try to avoid giving money to begging kids or buying things from them, because I think that if they weren’t making money, they wouldn’t be out begging – they would be doing kid stuff while their parents made the money. But perhaps this is an oversimplification of the complex problem that arises when (comparatively) rich tourists visit (comparatively) poor countries – suddenly there is an opportunity for a begging or souvenir-hawking child to make more money than their parents by playing on tourists’ sympathies. Often times, the desperation in the children’s voice sounds real – I try not to think about what happens to them if they don’t come home with enough money for the day.

I am curious to hear how other travelers deal with these all-too-common situations. What is your philosophy for giving to begging children or buying things from children when you travel?

Kep is a small fishing village on Cambodia’s southern coast, known for its fresh, delicious crabs. For obvious reasons, it was at the top of my list of places to check out in Cambodia. As soon as I arrived in Kep, I dropped my bags off at my hotel and immediately made a beeline for the crab market. I watched the ladies wrangle crab traps as I sat down at one of the seaside restaurants to enjoy their haul and a cold Angkor beer.

There are a bunch of restaurants lining the water near the grab market, but Kimly’s is the place to eat, according to my guide book, tuk tuk driver, and the hotel staff (I do my research when it comes to grub!), so that was my first stop. And it turned out to be my last stop – I ate there 3 days in a row! The crab was fresh and delicious, and covered in the best sauce I have ever had – I tried the Kampot green pepper sauce, the spices sauce (garlic, ginger, lemongrass, and a little bit of chili), and the spices sauce with coconut milk. The sauces were creamy and delicious, and I put down an absurd amount of food over the course of my three days in Kep. Seriously, I ate so many giant plates of crab that my fingers are covered in tiny cuts from prying the meat out of the shells.

My waiter was super friendly, teasing me about how much I ate. I even tried to bribe him to give me the sauce recipe, but he said that only the owner knows it, and it is a closely guarded secret.

My time in Kep was otherwise blissfully uneventful. In between eating crab, I lounged poolside – there are several beautiful eco-friendly resorts and bungalows in Kep that are quite reasonably priced. It was great to relax for a few days – the past four or five weeks have been pretty hectic, I have been in a new city almost every 2-3 days! Kep is smoking hot this time of year, so a dip in the pool was delightfully refreshing. However, my mid-morning jog along the ocean met with disaster when, owing to the extreme heat, I lost my breakfast over the sea wall. Oh well, more room for crab later. (“Gross, Devon!”)