Searching For Bourdain
It’s hard to imagine my life without Anthony Bourdain. I grew up watching his No Reservations and Parts Unknown programs. My foray into the adult world was as an oyster-shucker at my first job at Little Moss restaurant. I grew to love cooking and the restaurant industry via his memoir Kitchen Confidential and cookbook Appetites. I’ve modeled my life choices after his inimical enjoinder: “If you’re twenty-two, physically fit, hungry to learn and be better, I urge you to travel –– as far and as widely as possible. Sleep on the floors if you have to. Find out how other people live and eat and cook. Learn from them –– wherever you go.”
And then… he was gone. Not since David Bowie’s passing in 2016 has a celebrity’s death affected me so deeply. What would I do without my North Star? In travelling, however, I have found the stardust of which Bourdain and Bowie were made of and, in turn, have discovered my own passion for cross-cultural connection. Just recently, I researched the etymology of “third places” and found that, according to the urban sociologist Ray Oldenburg who coined the term in 1989, “third places” refer to places outside of home and work where people can meet to foster community and civility. Transcending distinctions of class, status, gender, or race, “third places” are the great equalizers. Inevitably, thinking about “third places” led me to thinking about Bourdain’s legacy.
Last May, I sat with my dear friend at numerous tabacs and watched the Parisians go about their daily business with an elegant je ne sais quoi. For much of that year, I chatted with madrileños in cafes and cervecerías and found them amicable and forgiving of my poor Spanish ability. Visiting my incomparable ex-girlfriend, I admired the signores and signoras of Parma from afar as they chatted away in mellifluous Italian. And, finally, in my hometown of Boston, I relished the opportunity to speak in my native tongue to people of all walks of life while working as a bartender in Allston. In each and every one of these “third places,” I felt Bourdain’s presence.
Now, living in Berlin, I take every chance I get to go sit and take a coffee or beer at a späti. These little convenience stores with outdoor seating function as a German agora where Berliners mingle with people from around the world. Just recently, I met a German octogenarian journalist and I felt he was what Bourdain might have become had he had the chance to live just a little longer. And yes, I am scheduled to have dinner with this German gentleman and his wife. Such is the life of the späti.
