Executive Summary

Intro- Problem Statement

One of the biggest regrets in travel is an unsuccessful attempt to find traditional, local, “home cooked” meals. Food has a powerful way of allowing outsiders an intimate understanding of local culture. Tasting a “home cooked” meal can explain better than any textbook what is important to the people of a given region.

Description- Solution

“Foreign Foodie Friends” is a web-based network for locals and visitors to connect and share a culinary experience.  Each member will be able to utilize the site both as a foreigner and as a host. The network will allow members to post a profile of what “home cooking” means to them and also allow dietary restrictions to be made known.

Action Plan

Develop the foundations of the site within 6 months.

§  Build the site

o   Profile layouts

o   Search functions

o   Rating/recommendations

Initially, we may start in a hyper local scene and expand out, allowing word of mouth to catch on. The expansion should be progressive, adding new locations every few months.

As we expand, we will need to increase advertising and marketing efforts both in established markets and new markets.

After the launch we will keep members excited with local meet-ups, new ideas, restaurant coupons, and shared stories.

Biloxi

One of my fondest travel experiences was a mission trip to Biloxi, Mississippi. My church just started sending youth groups annually to various parts of the country to refurbish houses for those in need. The year before we’d gone to Hazard, Kentucky. It was a life-changing experience. And so, naturally, I expected nothing less from this trip. The trip has stuck with me every since. I think of what I saw and learned there, often.

The mission we worked with had a wonderful facility. There was a main house for meals, a bathhouse, a men’s dorm, and a women’s dorm. The first night we met our two site managers. They gave us a tour and went over our schedule for the week. We were split in two groups for the two locations we were working on: Mrs. Baker’s house and Mr. White’s house.  I was placed on Mr. White’s group.

The next morning we drove to our designated site to begin work. The neighborhood was worn down and a little rough. The road Mr. White’s house was on had houses on one side and a working railroad track on the other. His house was a small, one story building. It couldn’t have been more than one or two rooms, but I never did step foot inside. It looked decent from the front. It was explained to us that the front of the house was recently completed and we were to begin work in the back.

The backyard was heart breaking. We entered through a fence by the side of the house. Three dogs started to bark at us. Two were in a large kennel and one was tied up by a doghouse. The lawn was replaced by mud and dirt. Nails and garbage littered the yard. The siding was hanging off the house. The steps from the back door were completely missing. Quickly, we were introduced to the fleas and mosquitoes that were present as well. This was going to be a tough week.

By the second day, it was clear that not everyone in our group could work in these conditions. Nearly half hour group asked to be switched to Mrs. Baker’s house. And I was the only female who stayed.

Regardless of the conditions and the small number of workers, we managed to complete the project; which made the celebrations all that much better.

At the end of the week our site managers prepared us a traditional shrimp boil. They covered the tables in newspaper and brought big old garbage cans in for the throwaway bits. The shrimp were whole and corn was perfect. The spices were full and the hot meal was welcomed even on the hot summer night. It was delicious.

At the shrimp boil we were asked to attend a large worship service at the tabernacle before we left for home. This was a deep south, “Praise the Lord”, kind of service that our group was not accustomed to. The experience was wonderful, until the invited us to the pulpit to sing. We literally had church members yelling at us to “feel the Lord.” I thought I was. As members of my group started to sway with the music and clap, the members of the tabernacle started to shout their “Alleluia’s”.

It still surprises me how vastly different and beautiful our country is. The conditions of Southern poor can make you look away, but the deep customs in their food and the passion in their faith awakens your senses. I think this trip has stuck with me because of just that.

Je Suis Perdu!

For most, being lost in a foreign country is a terrifying ordeal. You don’t know where you are, you may not speak the language, and you are unsure of how to set yourself back on track. It can be even more frustrating because it takes time away from your plans and itinerary. But, if you allow it, being lost can offer you a truly unique experience.

Almost as soon as I arrived in Charles du Gaul airport I felt lost. It has to be one of my least favorite airports. The layout isn’t very instinctive, the signs are not clear, and it’s my belief that the “snobby” French stereotype was developed here.

I found the train terminal and started to read the signs about buying a ticket. I had no idea where to begin. I stood there reading the information over and over. I checked my maps. I studied my itinerary. Nothing was quite adding up. I thought I had planned out the details so well, but this train ticket purchasing process was proving me wrong. 

A man, who surely pitied the “lost American girl”, asked if I needed help. I shared with him my destination from the train and asked if he knew which ticket I should purchase. He ordered the ticket for me. Then he turned and said to follow him and he would get me on the right train. Although wary of the man so eager to help a “lost American girl”, I was grateful for his help. The terminal was crowded and I knew not to let him lead me too far astray.

When we boarded the same train and I hurried to find a single available seat. He did come to find me before his stop to make sure I knew where my stop was. I was relived he would not be around to follow me all the way to my hotel.

Having had the train ride to study my maps, I was so confident upon exiting the train. I headed right out of the station, left at the first road, and then the hotel….the hotel…where was the hotel? I pulled out my maps again. “No, no I did it right. But wait, the street names are very wrong. OK, maybe I’ll head back to the station and start over.” I did this four times, each time starting off in a different direction from the station. Finally, I picked the direction I was most confident in and kept walking.

Eventually, I started to ask people for directions. One woman said I was on the right path, but I had a long way to go. Another man had no idea where my destination was. A bartender pulled out a map and said I was in the wrong area altogether. So, I just kept walking.

I ventured into one very hip neighborhood. The streets were narrow and old, but the people were young and stylish. There were no tourists, no franchise stores, and not even any cars. I noticed myself smiling at everyone. I stopped to look in window fronts. I even seemed to have a bounce in my step. I’d discovered the real Paris. This is where people actually live. There are no five star views of the Eiffel Tower, there are no expensive cafés on wide sidewalks, and I was absolutely the only tourist. But people were friendly, the scene was beautiful, and it felt real.

About twenty minutes further in my walk, street names became familiar. A few more turns and I found my hotel! When I walked in to my room, my friend who’d I’d planned to meet up with was already there. She helped me in to the room with my bags and said “where have you been, I expected you over an hour ago.” In response, I smiled and said, “oh, I just got lost in the sights, walking around.”

The Drive to Wales

Our bus slowed as it drove though the Welsh village. There were a few homes, a couple pubs, a store, and not much else. We continued on down the main road and pulled up alongside a two story, white concrete building with black shutters. We’d arrived.

Two weeks earlier my roommates and I stumbled upon a flyer about a weekend trip to Wales. It outlined stops along the way at Chepstow Castle, Titern Abbey, Hay-on-Wye, and one of the oldest pubs in the UK. The highlight of the trip was a horseback-riding excursion through the Welsh countryside. Space was limited, so we jumped on the opportunity and booked the trip.

Unbeknownst to us, all the stops on our itinerary were scheduled for the first day. We dragged ourselves out of bed for the early departure and traveled across London to meet up with the bus.

It was a small group and a small bus. Every seat was filled. The stops along the way broke up our time spent in the cramped seats. They hadn’t really accounted space for our luggage.  After our last stop we had a couple hours on the road still until we arrived at the Inn.

It’d been a long day. Most of us planned on resting during this last leg of the trip. I had an aisle seat and sat next to my friend, Bill. As he dozed off he propped his head on the window. The easy twists and turns in the road and the steady bumps made it easy drift off.

Before long the twists got more aggressive. It felt that our speed had quickened too. I opened my eyes and instinctively inched closer to the aisle. Bill woke soon after. His eyes bulged, he let out a yelp, and he nearly jumped in my lap.

The bus was racing down a rough road on the edge of a sharp drop. From Bill’s view on the window, we couldn’t see the road underneath. Trees growing along the edge zipped past. It was a terrifying scene to wake to. Bill decided to yell up to the bus driver to make sure he was aware of how close to the edge we were.  I don’t know how long we’d been driving like this while we slept, but we carried on for quite a while longer.

I remember feeling nauseous and closing my eyes to keep from seeing the scenery race by.  I didn’t open my eyes again until the bus slowed down. The quaint village was a sight of relief. We survived day one of our adventure…

Lunch on Montserrat

Lunchtime in Barcelona was spent at home with family and friends during the afternoon siesta. Food was prepared, newspapers read aloud, and children were allowed to watch TV. It was a magically quiet and relaxing time.

The day we visit Montserrat I was prepared to be away from the house and my host family during the siesta, but I was not prepared for how we would spend the siesta on the mountain.

My friend, Sonia, made arrangements with a few friends to travel with us. Five of us piled in to a tiny European car and drove outside the city and in to the mountains. The further we traveled and more winding the roads became, I started to get nervous about what I’d gotten myself in to. Two weeks earlier I’d broken my foot and was getting by on an air cast.

When we arrived at the foot of the mountain, we drove through the visitor’s parking lot to a gate. Sonia’s friend argued with a policeman for a minute and then turned to me and said “make sure to limp a little, the policeman is being nice and letting me drop you off here.” Sonia helped me out of the car and held my arm as I limped off to the train.

Montserrat is the home of the Santa Maria de Montserrat monastery. Sonia described that at a young age Spaniards, including herself, make a pilgrimage here. When she did it, a group of them walked all the way from her hometown. She pointed across to another peak where a tall cross stood. They’d stopped there before continuing up to the monastery. It was roughly a 16-mile journey for them. Regardless of my broken foot, I felt humbled by their journey.

Before too long, it was lunchtime. The weather was perfect and so we found a few stone steps outside to sit on. The steps circled around forming almost a stage in the middle. Many other travelers were seated there to eat as well. Sonia had packed a lunch for the two of us. We snacked on some chips and anchovy filled olives. Once we were finished with that, she served the sandwiches. She’d made a baguette with smeared tomato and salt cured ham. We ended with a couple chocolate digestives.

As we sat and ate, other travelers filed out of the monastery and started to gather on the “stage”. Several of them wore traditional polka dotted dresses of Seville. This group had clearly, made a long pilgrimage from the south. A few of them men from this group sat close to the gathering and started to play their guitars. Before long, the women started dancing.

From my experience of a Barcelona siesta, this was much louder and much more active. The group from Seville never asked others to join in, or shooed them away when then did. We were free to watch or free to take part. There were the entertainers and the entertained. Instead of a culture clash between regions, we were experiencing balance and harmony. We sat for nearly an hour watching, and it was an unexpected highlight of my trip.

Midterm Proposal

My goal is to merely establish an online presence. I have been hesitant, at best, to create a presence until I established voice to present. Now, I’ve learned, you must practice your voice to strengthen and establish a voice.

Lessons Learned:

It’s far more of a risk to be hidden then to make a mistake in plain view. Without establishing any online presence, I’m allowing others to draw conclusions without hearing my voice. Without a voice I have decided to sit in the back of the bus. I can’t hear what the bus driver is asking for, he/or she can’t hear me respond, and I can’t even see the road we’re driving on. I’m simply along for the ride and nauseated by the speed bumps!

Game Plan to Boost my voice:

1)   It’s time to jump in with both feet. I’m going to join LinkedIn and post my resume. Networking is a reality. However, networking also isn’t what it used to be. I plan to push the possibilities of my resume with key words, linked resources, and listing skill sets that are widely applicable.

2)   Create a portfolio. I am in a program that is pushing my skills. As a marketing major in my undergrad, I should have already started to put pieces of my work together. Now, I need to not only consistently update and add to my portfolio, but also make it publicly available along with my resume.

3)   Develop my interests. The bullet points above should concentrate on work at the professional level. Just like adding an “interests or extracurricular” section to my resume, I shouldn’t be afraid to invest time and energy in to my hobbies.  What does this mean for my web presence? Sharing. I’ve grown to really appreciate the blog I’ve created in this class. It’s a great record of my memories in travel, showcases my writing skills, and focused on my biggest passion.

Still Learning:

Practice, practice, practice. I’ve gotten the push to start writing again, which was the hard part.  And this class has been a great forum to write, critique, and receive feedback. Now, the harder part will be to continue writing after this class. By continuing my blog and building a following, I hope to further receive critique and feedback, which will improve my writing

This last chapter dipped in to the idea of SEO. This the greatest tool to have on the web. Knowing how your words can push searches is key for searching and being found. Incorporating this knowledge in to your sites or your writing is a skill worth working on.

Elevator Pitch

1. Travel guides are just starting to emerge in the iPod scene. You can download guidebooks and maps, audio books, and travel related podcasts. Rick Steves has come the furthest with his walking audio tours. There is still a lot of room to expand this genre. Rick Steves’ guides are historical, what about other themes? There are “Sex and the City” bus tours in New York and Harry Potter tours in London already. These two tours are very popular and no doubt fun in large groups. However, like iTunes has made lesser known bands more accessible; why not make self-guided tours more accessible for less mainstream themes. This could include tours of scenes from National Treasure in Boston, Breakfast at Tiffany’s in NYC, or the entire driving tour from Elizabethtown. Beyond films, self-guided tours could include restaurants, clubs, boutiques, gardens, etc.

2. One of the biggest regrets of travel is an unsuccessful attempt to find home cooking. The best way to immerse in a culture is to taste the food. My idea is inspired by Couch Surfing. Why not create a network of foodies? When you find yourself in a new city, this site will allow you to contact a local who is willing to invite you to dinner.