These are a mix of stories from Norway, Croatia, and Slovenia from some past trips.
Make Serbia Great Again
Our first stop is the city of Dubrovnik in Croatia, which has become well known being the primary filming location for Game of Thrones seasons 2 – 8. I watched the series, and am kind of a fan, but the city has really capitalized on this popularity. As you walk through the city you see these stores with fake iron thrones where you can sit and take pictures.
The city is quite unique as it is literally closed off by massive city walls (think Kings Landing) and to walk through the city requires climbing these huge flights of stairs. We were quite jet lagged the second day so we explored the city on our own. It was pretty empty, and we saw a couple elderly locals climb up the stairs. They were slow, but managed to do it which was impressive.
In the late morning, the city was a zoo. I’m talking like Disneyland-level crowds of people everywhere. It reminded me a lot of the Granville Island Public market in Vancouver during tourist season. On a normal day I could get groceries quickly, but on some random summer days the market would be packed shoulder to shoulder because of a cruise ship docked in the Waterfront port.
Luckily, we booked a tour guide Ivan to show us around the city. It was the shoulder season, but the crowds were surprising. He mentioned that in a peak summer day 8,000 people can enter the city!
He pointed out an insignia with a coat of arms that had “HR” and said that “Hrvatska” was the real name of the country. I did a double take for a moment and said, “Wait, Croatia isn’t the name of the country? He mentioned that the lack of vowels made it difficult for foreigners to pronounce so someone came up with “Croatia”.
I distinctly remember that as a kid, there was societal pressure for people with hard to pronounce names to choose an English name. Growing up, I remember adults telling my cousin Trang to pick an English name and drop her Vietnamese name. Today we would frown upon this, but back then it was pretty common to try to purge your identity to blend in.
Trang (pronounced like chrahng):
- “Tr”: Pronounced like “ch” in “charm,” but with the tongue placed slightly farther back in the mouth. The sound is sharper than in English.
- “a”: Pronounced like the “a” in “father” – a long and open vowel sound.
- “ng”: Pronounced like the “ng” in “song” or “ring,” with the sound coming from the back of the throat.
Even I was not immune to this. My Vietnamese name is Minh, but most of you probably know me as Daniel. My parents were afraid people wouldn’t be able to pronounce Minh so I went by Daniel.
During my time at the University of California, Irvine, a TA was calling our names to collect back our graded quizzes. He exclaimed out loud, “Danielle, Danielle, please pick up your quiz.” My friend nudged me and said it was probably my quiz. I reluctantly walked up to the front and grabbed the paper, and sure enough, my name was on top – “Daniel.”
Oddly enough I’ve had this problem multiple times, at places like Starbucks and even in other classes so I just shortened my name to Dan, to make it fool proof.
During my university graduation, they called each name before students walked across the stage. As I was waiting, I heard “David Quach”. As I walked to grab my diploma, my life flashed before my eyes that I would forever regret the moment if I didn’t walk back and correct the announcer. I walked all the way back to the stage, told him the corrected name, then walked off the stage.
Tourism boards probably err on the side of caution of easy to pronounce names, but does that do the country a disservice? I mean, if Hrvatska is the real name, why don’t we just call it that?
The walk around the city felt old and historic. Ivan pointed out a building and says, “That’s an Airbnb now.” In the past, the old city used to have 5,000 people, but only 500 remain. Since tourists are willing to pay high prices for short-term rentals, property owners make more money renting to visitors rather than to locals. This drives up the cost of living making it hard for residents to live in their own city.
Ivan continued by explaining that the lack of affordable housing is forcing younger generations to leave Dubrovnik and Croatia to seek better opportunities. A really random fact is that many Croatians play water polo locally then leave for scholarships at top universities in the United States.
The word “authentic” is always a really loaded word, but I wonder without the locals, is Dubrovnik a hollow shell catering to tourists? Taking the Disneyland comparison further, that place isn’t bad, but no locals live there. What do we lose when cities become museums where we check off landmarks, but don’t interact with any locals?
We climbed to a higher point of the city, and Ivan pointed out a building with new red roof tiles alongside older ones He mentions that the new tile was part of the post-war reconstruction.
Before visiting, I hadn’t read much about the history of Croatia and its neighbors. In seventh grade, I only had a vague recollection that Yugoslavia split up and that Tito was the former dictator.
Ivan shared his experience as a kid during the 1991–1995 Yugoslav War, when he was growing up in Dubrovnik. His mom specifically warned him not to walk in certain areas due to the risk of snipers. About 75% of the city was destroyed during an eight-month scorched-earth campaign, where civilian buildings were also targeted.
I asked why he thought the war happened, and his theory was that Tito’s monetary policy fueled hyperinflation, and politicians exploited the resulting instability. He suggested that Serbia’s ambition to create a “Greater Serbia” was a factor in the conflict—hence the expression “Make Serbia Great Again.”
The book Café Europa Revisited: How to Survive Post-Communism had one line that really stuck with me. The author, Slavenka Drakulić, wrote:
“Nationalism is an ideology that needs an enemy; it constitutes itself in confrontation with the Other—whoever that might be at the moment.”
There has been much news lately about the tariff war between the U.S. and Canada. I’ve been struck by the anger on the Canadian side, with some even boycotting U.S.-made goods—despite the tariff being extended by 30 days.
It reminds me of the nationalism statement, and now I wonder with Canada’s emergent nationalist sentiment is only due to viewing the USA as an adversary now.
The Traffic Ticket in Bosnia
From Dubrovnik, we drove to Ston and Mostar. Driving from Croatia to Bosnia is a bit more complicated as you are leaving the EU, and when you rent a car, you need to tell the rental company this specifically as there is an upcharge for documentation you have to give to the border police.
Just like at the airport, you go through an EU customs exit, then the Bosnian country customs border. I always get a little anxious going through any country’s borders especially on land, but we had no issues.
In Mostar, we booked a tour from a contact in the Rick Steves guidebook. The guide met us in the center of the city. When visiting countries deeply affected by war, I struggle with the balance of how much I should ask tour guides about their experiences during that time. In one hand, I wonder if that is traumatic for them to constantly retell the stories so during the tour, so we let Alma lead the discussion.
She spent 45 minutes talking about the history of the region starting from the Roman Empire. I’m not a historical scholar, but long story short, Mostar emerged as a significant center during the Ottoman Empire (1468 – 1908ish) . The interesting thing is that the Ottomans were generally tolerant of other religions with Catholic and Jewish populations and the legacy carries on to this day for having an inclusive society.
In the 1990s war broke out in the entire region, and the key historical event was the bombing of the Stari Most bridge in 1993. When inquiring more into why she thought the war happened, her belief was that Serbian nationalism was the primary cause of the war as the aggressor.
She also was critical and disillusioned with the United Nations (UN) and UNESCO, as in her perspective they failed to stop the bloodshed during the war. I can’t help think about when the Ukraine and Gaza conflicts are over, will the same criticisms be leveled against these global institutions.
The weirdest thing she talked about was the concept of the Tripartite (three-headed) Presidency which has been a core issue post-war. The Dayton Accords were signed in Ohio in 1995, stopped the bloodshed and established a peace treaty, but put in place a really weird political situation in Bosnia.
As part of the agreement every four years three members of the presidency are elected: one Bosniak, one Croat, and one Serb. Who you vote for is based on the territory where you live and your ethnicity.
In the four-year year term, the presidency rotates every eight months between the Bosniak, Croat, and Serb. The guide was deeply critical of the complex political structure. The accords were trying to make everything equal in their society, but she pointed out the irony that this type of structure has caused paralysis in the government’s decision making.
Similar to Croatia, there has been a brain drain out of the country post-war, due to their segregated education system which has another convoluted set of rules. A part of me is quite sad that when the system is broken, the people suffer.
Being pretty ignorant, I asked, “Do people in Croatia and Bosnia speak the same language?” The reality is that Croatian, Bosnian, and Serbian all come from the same Slavic language. As a side note, they can somewhat understand Russian verbally.
Alma believed that the decision to call a language “Croatian, “Bosnian, or “Serbian”, is not based on objective linguistic criteria, but rather on the political agendas and a desire to establish dominance. I guess languages might be a form of nationalism in a sense.
Walking through the old town, it was quite pretty, and only small relics of the war remain. Around some buildings, you see some large mortar shell holes from the conflict, but Bosnia really has tried to move on and is supported by robust tourism from day trippers in Dubrovnik.
Being in a Rick Steves guide book is a big deal, and we asked how she got mentioned. The guide initially worked as a tour guide in a local agency, but Rick Steves’ representatives wanted her to be a guide to Rick Steves personally so he could update the Bosnia book.
When Rick Steves finished his tour, instead of mentioning the tour agency, he mentioned the guide directly, omitting the tour agency, which became a turning point in her career. She refers to that moment as divine intervention, as that mention changed her career path forever.
It is crazy to see these moments where people in the positions of power and influence have the opportunity to change people’s lives through a single decision. I’m glad that local guide mentions actually make a difference, and it does make me look at the guidebook in a slightly different light.
The next day, we drove out of Bosnia and towards Ston. On the way out, as I crossed an intersection, I noticed a police officer holding a stop sign perpendicular to me on the right. Imagine a ping-pong paddle where the center of the paddle has the word “STOP.” As I was driving, the officer was just within the corner of my eye, at the edge of my peripheral vision. My instinct told me to slow down and pull over, but I kept going.
Right when that happened, I saw in my rearview mirror the cop running to his car and then beginning to drive. At that point, I already knew the cop was going to chase me down. I began to slow down to avoid escalating the situation, and the cop pulled me over.
In English, the cop asked, “Did you see the stop sign?” I said I wasn’t sure, and living in California has really made me paranoid of cops. You hear many stories about incidents with police where things escalate and go wrong. Typically, in North America, cops flash their lights behind you to pull you over, not sit perpendicular, but different country, different rules.
I immediately handed him my US passport. Then he came back asking for my driver’s license. He was immediately confused because it was Canadian, and I explained that I am a dual resident. Next, the officer said, “It is a 60-euro fine for not stopping,” and I said that was fine. Then he asked me to step out of the car.
When I walked over to the police officer’s car, his partner was in the driver’s seat, and they started writing up the ticket. Oddly enough, they were very friendly and said the ticket was only 30 euros, but payable in cash only. A part of me wonders—if we hadn’t had the cash, what would have happened? Would we have been thrown in jail?
The officer who pulled me over noticed the U.S. passport and said he had a cousin who lived in California. Then he jokingly asked, “Who will you vote for in the upcoming election, Trump or Harris?” Thinking the question could be a trap, I declined to answer, saying, “In the USA, a lot of people don’t reveal who they vote for.” The officer said that in Bosnia, it is common for people to explicitly state their political preferences.
We paid the 30-euro fee and then continued on our way. Writing this months later, I still feel unsettled by the experience. I’m not sure if the relationship between European citizens and police is different, but when I was living in California, I’ve only had two experiences with police.
When you drive on the freeway in California, the technical speed limit is 65 mph, but nobody drives that slow. The average is about 73 mph, and at 80-85 mph, you risk getting a ticket. That means when driving on California highways, you technically could get a ticket at any time, but an unwritten rule exists that you usually get one at higher speeds.
During college, I was driving to church when I got a ticket, I think, for driving 81 mph. The officer got my ID and then asked if I was related to Steve Quach, the UFC fighter. I said no, and a part of me wanted to plead the “I was driving to church” card, but I didn’t say anything.
The second experience was when I was in grade 6. I was biking to school with a helmet, and a police officer turned on their sirens behind me. They said, “Congrats on wearing a helmet, here is a coupon for a free Slurpee at 7-11,” and went on their way. Even to this day, I still think pulling sirens on an elementary school kid is a bit excessive for giving a free drink.
We made it safely back to Ston using the toll road and learned the lesson to trust my instincts a little bit more on the road.
Pula
In Croatia, we booked a tour guide from Rovinj to show us around the city of Pula. Things were a little stressful because I was driving the rental car while the tour guide sat in the passenger seat, giving a historical overview of the Istria region. I quickly learned that I cannot drive and absorb something overly educational at the same time, so I more or less tuned her out and just listened to the directions.
Our first stop was Uljara Vodnjan (Vodnjan Olive Oil Mill), as she told us olives were in season and we should check out an olive oil shop. The facility was family-owned but quite modern. In one corner of the wall, there were huge crates with family names on them. This really was a community mill in the truest sense—people could bring their own olives to have olive oil made. The processing steps involved weighing the olives, washing them, crushing them into a paste using a millstone, and then using a centrifuge to separate the oil.
The employees at the shop offered us a tasting, and out came a small cup of fluorescent green olive oil. They mentioned that it was this color because it had just been harvested and was also unfiltered. Most of the olive oil we get in grocery stores is filtered, a process that removes solid particles, making the oil lighter, more transparent, and free of impurities.
One of the employees instructed us to first warm the cup of olive oil in our hands, then smell it. Next, we were to take a small amount of olive oil in our mouths, smile, and inhale. As we did this, he mentioned that high-quality olive oil should taste like fresh-cut grass and leave a spicy, peppery sensation in the throat.
I followed these steps to a tee, but I apparently put too much olive oil in my cup. I started coughing—a lot. I hacked away for a couple of minutes while everyone laughed. The unfiltered olive oil was unreal and unlike anything I’d ever tasted. It was super intense, slightly medicinal, and completely punched me in the face.
In North America, we tend to go through diet trends, and at one point, the Mediterranean diet was all the rage—advocating for olive oil and eating fish. But watching the process of olive oil harvesting in person gave me a different perspective. It wasn’t just about the health benefits; making and consuming olive oil here was about being in tune with the rhythms of nature and community. Obviously, not everyone has the luxury of owning an olive orchard, but there is a sense of celebration when a harvest is completed.
Earlier in our trip, we were in Ston and had an amazing olive oil at a restaurant. We asked if we could buy some, but they said, “No, sorry. We make our own olive oil and only have enough for the restaurant.”
It’s amazing how much diversity exists in food worldwide. For example, we can get button mushrooms year-round at the grocery store, but in Vancouver, when fall and winter hit, that’s when we get foraged mushrooms from the mountains—varieties like chanterelles, black trumpets, and hedgehogs, just to name a few.
About an hour later, we arrived in the city of Pula. Parking was a bit confusing for our tour guide, so after asking a parking attendant a few questions, we decided on a paid lot. She paid via a web link on her phone, and we headed out.
Our first stop was the Pula Arena, also known as the Pula Amphitheater. It was very reminiscent of the Colosseum in Rome—roughly a circle without a roof. Originally, it was used for gladiator fights, but those were banned with the rise of Christianity. The site had fallen into disrepair over the years but underwent a major renovation in 1985.
Nowadays, the Pula Arena is the cultural heart of the city, hosting concerts, film screenings, and even ice-skating shows. Our guide casually mentioned that Dua Lipa, Elton John, and Andrea Bocelli had all performed there. I did a double take—wait, what?
It’s fascinating how a small city like Pula repurposed such an ancient landmark for cultural events. It made me reflect on Vancouver, where I don’t think we have a single iconic landmark that represents the heartbeat of the city. San Francisco has the Golden Gate Bridge, New York has the Statue of Liberty, and other cities have their own marketing symbol, but Vancouver doesn’t seem to have one definitive emblem.
For lunch, we went to a restaurant in the middle of town. Tour guides usually excuse themselves to eat alone, but we enjoy dining with our guides, so she joined us. We ordered pasta with black truffles, a regional specialty, and they were quite generous with the truffle shavings.
Tour guides typically try to keep personal opinions out of their tours, but at some point, the topic of credit cards came up. She bluntly stated that credit cards were a tool for governments to control people. Things got a little awkward. Then she realized she couldn’t renew parking through her phone, so I ran back to the lot to add coins to the meter. Turns out, the parking lot had a two-hour limit, so while she couldn’t renew online, we could extend our time by manually inserting coins—giving us the extra hour we needed.
As we continued our tour, our guide explained that, unlike other parts of Croatia, Pula largely escaped direct conflict during the Yugoslav Wars. Originally a military outpost, the city had a shipyard that employed thousands, but in the early 1990s, the Yugoslav army left Pula, marking its transition into a civilian city. As the war escalated, many regions sought independence, leading to the current borders of Croatia today.
I’m grateful that Pula largely escaped the devastation of the Yugoslav Wars and that the city has not only survived but thrived in modern times. Walking through its streets, there’s a sense of resilience—history is ever-present, but it doesn’t feel weighed down by the past. The Pula Arena, once a battleground for gladiators, now hosts world-renowned artists; the shipyards that once served military needs have transitioned to civilian industry. There’s something hopeful about that—a city that has seen so much history yet continues to reinvent itself while holding onto its heritage. It’s a reminder that even in regions touched by conflict, life moves forward, and culture finds a way to flourish.
Lofoten Islands
We are having our first dinner in Lofoten Islands, and it is pretty quiet in the restaurant. Apparently May is the shoulder season for tourism, but we catch a break because the weather 65 degrees and sunny. A typical May here sees fewer crowds, with temperatures in the 40s, along with rain and even snow.
There’s only one other party in the restaurant—two older people and a guy in his 40s. I’m casually spying, trying to figure out their relationship, when we break the ice and ask where they’re visiting from. Turns out, they’re from New York, and the older couple are the guy’s parents. A tour guide pops in a bit later, giving them tips on how to prep for a midnight hike.
Lofoten is way up north, inside the Arctic Circle, so this time of year, the sun never really sets. Having daylight at 11:30 p.m. kind of messes with your brain, so sure, I guess a midnight hike makes sense?
The next day we drove out to Lofoten Seaweed. It originally wasn’t on the itinerary but Jason saw a sample package at the restaurant, so we decided to go. Itinerary wise, my travel style is try to plan as much as in advance as possible, and then shift plans if needed. Rick Steves, a famous Europe travel author in a recent interview, had some sage advice of the importance of saying “yes” to serendipitous moments, and putting yourself in situations where they can occur.
I always thought of seaweed as primarily Japanese, with its deep traditions of making dashi. But entering the store, I was really surprised on the diversity available. There were some rarer types, like dulse, which has a bacon-like flavor when roasted or fried, and truffle seaweed, which naturally tastes like truffles. Vancouver has seaweed too, but it’s mostly kombu and wakame.
The history of seaweed and Norway and Iceland is quite interesting because there are some indications that Vikings ate seaweed to help with nutrition on long voyages. The company’s founders, both are inspiring where they spent years harvesting seaweed in a male dominated fishing industry eventually winning converts over.
After picking up some seaweed to take home, we ask how many hours of sunlight they get in winter. She tells us they get just one hour—but adds that the Northern Lights, which so many people chase, are incredibly common here in winter.
Most of the time, Northern Lights only really look good because of cameras and long exposure, and seeing it in person is kind of like a Windows 95 wallpaper updating slowly. It looks like colored clouds in the sky, but apparently in this region, Northern Lights are bright enough to reflect green light on the snow.
People see those stunning images online and make it a lifelong dream to witness the Northern Lights. I wonder what it must be like to live in a place like Lofoten or the Yukon, where they’re an ordinary sight. I had assumed that 23-hour winter darkness would be depressing, but the locals don’t seem to give off that vibe at all.
It’s fascinating to see how traditions evolve—what was once a deeply rooted Japanese practice is now thriving in Norway. It makes me wonder: in a hundred years, could Norwegian seaweed surpass Japanese seaweed in quality and reputation?
Food history is unpredictable. After all, sushi was virtually unheard of outside Asia until a few decades ago, and now it’s a global staple. Maybe one day, kelp will be just as common on menus around the world. Who knows? In the future, we might be ordering kelp burgers with the same ease we now order sushi rolls.
Was Hitler a Disney fan?
After a couple days of exploring the west side of Lofoten Island, we trekked over to the small city of Svolvear to take a tour of the Trollfjorgarden water area. After the cruise we explored the main city square, and there was this small World War 2 museum recommended by Lonely Planet.
Entering the museum, there was an older gentleman sitting at the reception. I wouldn’t call this a museum in a traditional sense, but rather a couple rooms with mostly memorabilia from World War 2, with a focus from Norway during the time of 1940-1945
Looking around, I’m pretty surprised to see a lot of actual Nazi memorabilia, including Nazi uniforms, insignias, and machinery. Most museums are curated, but this one is just a collection of items that I’m not sure would be shown in a normal museum.
Walking into one of the dimly lit rooms, I was startled to see mannequins dressed in full Gestapo uniforms, standing in a chillingly realistic recreation of a Nazi-era office. The walls were draped with swastika banners, and an old wooden desk sat at the center, cluttered with wartime documents, a rotary phone, a radio, and a worn-out map marked with strategic points. A large Nazi eagle emblem loomed over the scene, its shadow casting an eerie presence on the wall.
The atmosphere was heavy, almost oppressive, as if stepping into a moment frozen in time. Unlike most museums, where history is curated with context and neutrality, this room felt raw—almost as if I had intruded into a sinister past that was never meant to be seen again. The sheer presence of these artifacts was unsettling, a stark reminder of the bureaucratic machinery that orchestrated war and oppression.
After exploring the exhibit, we asked the staff member at the desk about anything particularly interesting we should focus on. He directed us to a section we had missed, which displayed drawings of characters from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. According to the story he shared, some believe these sketches were created by Adolf Hitler. While the evidence is circumstantial, tests suggest that the drawings date back to the 1940s and were hidden behind a painting signed “A. Hitler.”
He added his own commentary, suggesting that if the drawings are indeed authentic, they serve as a reminder that even those whom history deems as purely evil may have complex and multifaceted personalities. It looks like the curator never paid to authenticate the drawings so we never actually will know if these are real or not
I kind of wonder why he bought these drawings if they are circumstantial. Was he trying to make a point about adding complexity to villains in our history?
When we look back at people who have done really terrible things, I don’t think we learn much about their lives holistically, instead we learn about the things they done, and putting people in that box of good and bad makes it easy to digest history.
If these drawings are authentic, this is an uncomfortable thing to reconcile with. Could someone who has done so many terrible things to humanity have a soft side for Disney?
Maybe that’s what makes history so unsettling—it refuses to be simple. It’s easier to see figures like Hitler as pure evil, to categorize the past into neat moral lessons. But artifacts like these, whether authentic or not, complicate that perception. They force us to acknowledge that even those who committed unimaginable atrocities had personal interests, emotions, and contradictions. Does that change anything? Not really. But it does remind us that history isn’t just about villains and heroes—it’s about real people. And that’s what makes it both terrifying and necessary to remember.
Why Isn’t European Food Piping Hot?
We arrived in the city of Tolmin, Slovenia, which is the base for the Julian Alps. We learned about this area through Lonely Planet, and since we got a very cheap car rental, we decided to drive from Plitvice National Park to Tolmin, then through the Julian Alps via the scenic Vršič Pass.
After meeting our Vrbo host, he gave us some tips on checking out the water near the park, which was about a five-minute drive away. When we arrived at the park, the water’s color was stunning. It was a bright turquoise, almost as if there was dye in the water. It brought back a very specific memory of Kicking Horse River at Yoho National Park, Canada, as the color was very similar.
Most people are very aware of Banff, but there are actually three parks nearby: Jasper, Yoho, and Kootenay. I actually think Jasper is much nicer than Banff, but you might need to be strategic in your visit, as large parts of the area were affected by fires this past summer.
That night, we ate at Okrepčevalnica Tolminska, a restaurant serving local dishes like Frika, Soča trout, and Jota.. We e-mailed the Tolmin tourist board and they recommended this one for local traditional style food.
The restaurant was next to Tolmin Gorge, but it was too late to enter the park since it was nighttime. We went in October, so it was shoulder season, with the prospects of unpredictable weather at this time.
I’m always a bit conflicted when people say, “Local food is the best food.” I think local food mainly reflects the historical ingredient selection of an area.
We ordered a chicken and cheese dish and the Soča trout. The food was okay—pretty simple in preparation.
The restroom situation was a bit odd, as you had to get a token from the restaurant or pay a euro to use it. This was probably put in place due to the high volume of visitors, given their location right next to Tolmin Gorge.
On the way back to the table from the restroom, we saw another Asian couple sitting outside. Usually, I wouldn’t do a double take, but during our trip, there were very few Asian people anywhere. While waiting for our food, we decided to strike up a conversation.
When traveling, I feel it’s pretty easy to start a conversation by asking, “Are you on holiday?” They said they were, and they were both from Singapore—one was on exchange in Spain, and the other was on exchange in Switzerland. Their trip was a bit different, as they were spending a few more days in the Julian Alps to do outdoor activities like white-water rafting.
The next day, we drove through the stunning Julian Alps, which felt quite similar to the drive between Jasper and Banff. Along the road, there were several pull-offs, and after a short walk, we would reach either a waterfall or a scenic viewpoint. The water resembled what we had seen in Tolmin—either a deep turquoise or emerald green, depending on the glacier particles, mineral content, or sunlight
A couple of days later, we were on the last leg of our trip in Ljubljana, the capital of Slovenia. I know it can be a bit stressful, but we also try to book most of our restaurants in advance, which does take a lot of work prior to the trip.
Fortunately, we happened to be in the region during Slovenia’s Restaurant Week. I don’t know if it’s due to Europe’s socialist egalitarian ideas, but Restaurant Week there was extremely cheap. We enjoyed several three-course tasting menus at Michelin restaurants for about $30 to 40 USD each.
In 2022, I watched The Menu. The premise is a horror story that takes place entirely in a fancy restaurant (they even had Dominique Crenn, a Michelin-starred chef from San Francisco, as a restaurant consultant). The movie is gory, but at its core, it critiques culinary elitism. While it exaggerates quite a few things, it also lands some interesting punches.
After watching, I kept thinking about it—particularly about whether fine dining is worth the money. I remembered a specific experience in San Francisco when I had a tasting menu with friends and was still hungry after it was over.
The Michelin Guide has historically had deep roots in and placed an emphasis on European-style cuisine, although things have begun to change in the past couple of years. It’s strange—why did France become the arbiter of food standards? Why not Asia, with its complex techniques for creating broths, or Mexico, with its rich culinary history tracing back to the Mayan civilization?
In Ljubljana, as we were walking back from a coffee shop, we coincidentally ran into the same couple from Tolmin again. There was definitely a sense of camaraderie the second time, and we debriefed each other on how the trip was going. I joked that I missed just having a bowl of rice, and the other couple agreed, saying, “European food is good, but I just want hot food. And in Singapore, we have plenty of that.”
n cooking, we assess food by the five tastes (salty, sour, sweet, bitter, and umami), but there are two other important factors: texture and temperature. Texture makes a meal more interesting, but temperature is where I think there is a big difference between European and Asian food.
Many Asian dishes prioritize temperature—like a hot bowl of Japanese ramen, Korean tofu stew, or Vietnamese pho. But, generally speaking, European food doesn’t have many dishes that are served super piping hot, to my knowledge.
The book Food in History, which I read back in university is a pretty fascinating and a bit dense book about the history of food starting in the Middle Ages to the present day.
Medieval dining was characterized by a haphazard assortment of dishes placed on the table at the same time. A “course” was not a sequence of dishes, but a variety of options available simultaneously.
In the 18th and 19th centuries, French menus began to be codified, and presented in groups of 3 courses in a style called service à la russe which was more individualized and didn’t really promote sharing.
This trip made me realize that while discovering new cuisines is exciting, there’s something irreplaceable about the foods that remind us of home. No matter where we travel, the flavors of our childhood always call us back.
