The Finale: Guatemalan Street Foods (GUATEMALA - post 1 of 1)

As we entered Guatemala, the final country on our itinerary, I struggled to remain energetic in my project to engage with street food vendors around the world. Nevertheless, the fatigue of constant travel wicked away upon reaching Antigua, a quiet cobblestoned town south of Guatemala City, and the magnificent Lake Atitlan. The excitement of participating in a country's food culture resurged in me once again.

Street vending in Guatemala cumulates many themes of the economies I've encountered in my travels. Perhaps Guatemala reveals aspects of all the street vending cultures I've previously visited simply because it is the last stop in our semester long journey, and I've become attune to the globally reoccurring characteristics across vending activities. Particularly amongst the Asian countries, common threads are outstanding. From an informal economy exemplified in India (responding to the needs of an impoverished market), the small home-converted-eateries functioning as social spaces in Vietnam, to the surprising sparcity of street vendors similarly encountered in China, Guatemala displays facets of it all.

Makeshift sidewalk shops and individual hawkers crowd the small pueblo streets of Guatemala, at times making up a greater percentage of the population than actual customers. Most of these businesses feature souvenir trinkets and tradition textiles for sale, rather than the cheap foods that have become a familiar part of my surrounds. What motivates the prevalence of food in some countries over trifle gifts and knickknacks in others? Is it the type of government, the strength of the economy, an individual need? Or perhaps the reasoning lies in the genetic disposition of a population. Unsurprisingly the simplest enterprises with low costs and low skill dominate the scene, spurred on by the fluid nature of entering and exiting the market. In Guatemala, fruit vendors carry out this position, selling bags of freshly cut papaya, pineapple, mangoes, and melons strung in colorful packages along the front of the wooden carts, and leading the way in the relatively underdeveloped street food scene.

"SUPER" TACO BELL
Panajachel is the largest and liveliest of several indigenous pueblos surrounding Lake Atitlan, a two-hour, winding, mountainous drive from Antigua. Even within the tourist hotspot of the picturesque town, food vending is a quiet and minor affair. At corner junctions of the narrow, "main" roads, a tiny community of two or three carts with gaudy red and yellow neon signs, your choice of either "Super Taco Bell" or "Fried Chicken and Fries," serve up (tacos or thighs) in the late evening hours. Having eaten at a disappointing bar-cafe our first night in Panajachel, I resolved not to leave the town without having sampled the carnitas tacos (sole menu item) at one of these street carts. It was a good decision - even after accounting for the ungainly trek over irregular stonework and sudden lightning storm + accompanying downpour. Three miniature masa corn tortillas were quickly fried in a moat of rusty-amber oil surrounding a protruding dome griddle. The tortillas are freshly made throughout the day by women selling bulk stacks to restaurant or individuals from their homes. Shredded braised pork and caramelized onions, reheated over the island griddle, mounded into one of these palm-sized shells before being topped with cabbage-cilantro slaw and salsa. As with any universal street food offering, these tacos sold for the budget price of about $0.6.



SERIOUSLY?! THE INFLUENCES OF CORRUPTION
Reflecting the economic strains of a developing nation, Guatemala street vendors are frequented mainly by locals, or the occasional adventurous traveler, in the same manner noted in India and Vietnam. The market is run mostly by young men in their late twenties or earlier thirties. Shy and polite, they disguise the economic burden of their families behind smiles or impassive stares. While the food was fresh, delicious, and inexpensive, other similar options (both in price and variety) are also served in small, home-converted-restaurants, which challenges the possibility of reaching profitable scales. Permits and formal regulatory devices seemed laughable wishfulness after encountering the corruption of local government authorities (we were offered protection against "ladrones," thieves on the road, in return for "una propina," tip money to cover the cost of disel from uniformed police at a gas station).

High crime, particularly in Guatemala City, is driven by poverty and disillusionment. Blatant corruption in every level of society perpetuates the disincentive for evolution and progression (we were also required to pay a small "entrance" fee for our taxi to enter the ocean port gates). I pause to consider, what drives a community to reach for an ephemeral, weak solution? Yet in spite of the presence of poverty within the community, the grim reality is subtly concealed behind cheerfully painted stores, a mishmash of corrugated metal (another universal indicator of need).

REFLECTION & REACTION
Over the past 100 days, I've traveled with the intention to understand the role of street foods in various countries and identify the cross-cultural threads of this unique offering of food. Food has long served a need greater than nutrition: community venues, gestures of hospitality and friendship, or tasteful indicators of cultural conduct. With regards to the foodstuffs themselves, they are a bargain way to eat fresh when one knows where to look. While developing economies may rely on street food as a primitive dining choice, these societies have also sustained communities and networks, sprung from gathering around a cart and becoming well acquainted with a favorite vendor and neighbors. In Western societies, we've become conditioned to recognizing standardization of national and international franchises as an indicator of consistency, if not quality. When presented with the option of freshly fried chicken (the real fowl in all of its once-feathery-existence), sizzlingly in recycled hot oil on grimy side streets, most of us will opt for Kentucky Fried Chicken's characterizing red and white sign, bathing us with promises of security and familiarity. We bury our heads and faces in the relief of "knowing" the source of our food. But what does this standard quality compared to? Are we to judge the character of the best fried chicken to be from a formulated recipe without even considering a "less worthy," freelance alternative? Or what of the host of other unfamiliar foods we pass off as too foreign, unsophisticated, or unappealing, always to return to the safety of fast food chains.

Small-scale operations enable consumers to be proactive about their meals. In my daring embrace of street food, always in protest of medical authorities' greater opinion, I was never once left seeking a toilet in despair; which brings me to a comment about traveling and food. In the U.S. food borne diseases are the greatest source of food related illnesses, however concern about our food on our home turf easily escapes our consciousness. We find ourselves on foreign soil and immediately paranoia sets in: we lose money and cameras, or are confined to the hotel toilet, convinced it was the unsanitary conditions of the country's food system. As with choosing the quality of your apples at the market, or between three different steakhouses to get the perfect steak, food options in different countries come in different forms and degrees of excellence. Food sold on the streets should not be faulted for being sold on the streets, but instead averted for being prepared in advanced and left to the mercy of flies and the sun. A beautiful feature of street food is its preparation on the street, naked to the scrutiny of the customer. In some ways it may be much safer than national chains we've come to adore and rely on.

Go out, take many first bites of old favorites assembled differently, familiar ingredients with unexpected flavors, or better yet experiment with something entirely unidentifiable.

THANK YOU!
Thank you to those of you who have followed my blog across the continents. I will be updating previous posts with photos in the upcoming weeks and also plan on concluding my tales from abroad with a post about battling the daily ship food buffet. I will continue with First Bite and will likely focus on crafting recipes from my experiences as well as inspiration from the local bounty. Cheers.

Follow the Students: Midnight Snacks at the University (CHINA - part 1 of 1)

The mood of the small gathering of vendors quietly filling orders of freshly made, comfort foods reminds me of a potluck meeting of a secret society, subdued, and relaxed, but with an undercurrent of excited energy. In the background, crepe batter sizzles against the hot griddle, interrupting the few, broken conversations. An egg is cracked and the yolk broken over the quickly drying batter. A small sprinkle of chopped scallions and cilantro, followed by briny, preserved shredded turnip, create a colorful landscape on the thin, spongy surface. A quick flip and the bottom of the disc is brushed with hoisin sauce (Chinese bbq-sauce of preserved soybeans), garnished with chili powder, and and a spoonful of crushed peanuts. The burning package, folded into a square and stuffed into a scrap of paper, warms our chilled fingers. It is the first time since Spain where a jacket and scarf (even gloves for a some) are required and few of us are prepared. Welcome to Shanghai.



BRIEF BACKTRACK
Prior to arriving in Shanghai our first stop in China was Hong Kong. For some geography reference, the region is divided by a straight of water into Hong Kong Island and Kowloon Penninsula (attached to the mainland). The island portion is the financial hub of the state. The streets reminisce of any large, urban center, San Francisco or New York with towering, imposing buildings and sleek, modern designs. Kowloon captures more of the local Hong Kong culture. Despite the masses of foreigners and locals flooding the shadowed streets below, the city was absent of the street carts I've become accustomed to seeing in Asia. The dearth of street vending activity in the downtown district took me by surprise. Open storefront counters selling mostly skewered fish balls, octopus tentacles, and other assorted grilled or fried meats and vegetables came the closet to cheap-eats, roadside vending. Locals bunched around each of these stalls in tight bubbles with a similar air to other street food customers around the world. I was lucky enough to follow a friend living in Hong Kong for the year to a legitimate hole-in-the-wall "cart" for an authentic, crispy honeycomb egg waffle called “ge zi bing” 格仔餠 "grid cake", named for the pocketed iron griddle it is cooked in. My friend in Hong Kong mourns the disappearance of these traditional hawkers as local authorities have been cracking down on sanitary regulations and forcing vendors into actual stores. This restriction has eliminated some vendors from the business and is perhaps lowering the incentive for the remaining to dish out first-rate waffles. When considering the actual snack itself, there isn't much to tamper with that would degrade the quality of a true ge zi bing. Motivation and incentive rather than skill or quality ingredients appear to be the culprits against excellence for the dessert snack.



MAINLAND
Crossing back over to Shanghai, we met up with a friend of a friend who has been living and studying in the city for nearly three years. Upon hearing of my interest in learning the local food culture, he enthusiastically promised to take us to his University later in the evening to partake in a gathering of street vendors.

In the late evening hours, vendors cluster around the main gates of the most Universities to take advantage of hungry student appetites. Between 10:30 PM to 1:00 in the morning, they set up their rickety and rusty carts to offer a Chinese version of "late night / take-out" to passersby. The food is as equally greasy, hot, and comforting as buffalo wings, hamburgers, and fries, but truly much more ingeniously executed. I may be biased, but at 3-4 RMB (~ $0.5) a pop, you can't beat the price. The vendor turnout was relatively small in comparison to food markets from previous countries we've visited. Nevertheless, it was probably the largest organized group of vendors I saw in Shanghai. A handful of owners, perhaps six at most, congregate at each gate of the University. They appear to coordinate food types with one another as there were no duplicate offerings at each location, though some vendors offered replica foods at different gates. We ate our way around the vendors starting with an incredible spiced and braised pork, finely chopped before being stuffed into a toasted white "mantou" bun. The meat was topped with minced scallions and cilantro and given a douse of juices from the braise. Following, we watched a woman spread a wide circle batter of crepe on a large griddle and savored the 大餠 "da bing" (introduced above) with both hands as if eating a Bic Mac. Finally, we filled up on a small bowl of tiny wontons in a steaming soy-based broth. Only our stuffed bellies prevented us from trying the elaborate fried rice at the end of the line.

"INVISIBLE" VENDORS
A large portion of prepared foods sold in Shanghai are informal and most likely illegal, although this seems to be accepted with a partially blind eye. Narrow roads in older, village-styled houses, dark grey and attached in townhouse formation, meld into major city skyscrapers amidst the dusty rubble of full-blown construction. Most Shanghai citizens live in these village locations and some offer breakfast or snacks out of their basic dwellings. From uniformed students to businesspeople in suits and leather shoes, people flock to and from these unlicensed enterprises. The execution of food vending from the doorway of these houses was much the same as informal street vending in India or Vietnam; separate operations per vendor, unorganized and primitive, but logistically less stressful in terms of mobility. Surprisingly, the convenience of a backyard larder did not prevent vendors from cooking portably in front of their homes rather than inside. Tables and charcoal stoves were set up along the sidewalk to steam wooden barrels of fluffy white buns and fry 油條 "you tiao" unsweetened donuts for dunking in sweetened soymilk. Local police did not attempt to invade vending activity, though they didn't appear to partake either.



GIVE ME BACK MY SPATULA PLEASE
A final, scattered group of independently operating individuals form a third category of Chinese street vendors. While our university friend informed us that all street vending can be assumed to break the law in China, certain individuals appear to be easier targets for wrist-slapping. Periodically along the quieter streets of the city, not far from main commercial centers, I came across men with wooden ox-carts or on bicycles serving up grilled, skewered meats or candy-coated dates or crab apples. This category of vending seems to fall victim to whistle-blower officials (literally, men who have the authority to call out an illicit activity such as jaywalking or hawking - but no official power to arrest). In the event of crossing paths with an actual police officer, the vendors may have their spatulas or other utensils confiscated as punishment, being that fines are worthless to impose on these penniless individuals. A word to the wise from our experienced friend, don't buy from this third group of street vendors; the absence of quality food matches their sanitation conditions.

#1 Curry: Escaping the Formal Economy (INDIA - part 2 of 2)

Following the lead of a rickshaw driver is a street food lover's dream. As tradition dictated, I dedicated a final, full day in Chennai to enjoying regional flavors, with an emphasis on understanding the informal street food economy of India. Under Rama's lead I was free to sit back, confident that he would expose me to the best street foods in all of Chennai. Stick with the locals.

We headed out with Rama at 2PM, learning that afternoons and particularly the evenings are the best times for street food. Vendors usually uncover their carts by 1PM to serve the midday rush, staying until three or four before wrapping up for the day. A separate wave of vendors emerge with the last rays of sunlight to operate the evening crowd. Over the melee of impatient horns and grumbling engines, Rama shared with us his insights on Indian street food culture.

The majority of local citizens rely on meals bought off the dusty, sooty roads as an inexpensive calorie source. A basic rice and curry plate costs no more than 20 rupees ($0.40), a third of typical restaurant fares. More formal dining arenas are frequented by middle and upper class Indians to avoid the sanitation risks associated with eating in unregulated settings. As we drove, my eyes followed Rama's sudden gesture down an unexceptional street. "This is the #2 place for beef curry. You can see all the rickshaw drivers are eating here today." True to his description, a slanted row of neatly parked rickshaws formed a golden-yellow block against the monotonous cement background. A congregation of men, heads dipped to their plates, hailed Rama as we passed. Our rickshaw continued on, destined for "#1 curry" (leave it to Rama). Moments later we had sidewinded through oncoming traffic and cut a surely illegal U-turn to park by a compact, wooden blue cart. Despite being shunted off to the side of a three star hotel, the cart was surrounded by locals who prefer quality and simplicity to the bounty of restaurants in the vicinity. Rama ushered me behind the production table, elbow-to-elbow with the slightly startled vendor, to smell the action taking place. I edged in behind the surprisingly clean, well-maintained cart, and found myself catching a unique glimpse from a typical vendor's perspective towards the facing crowd. The curious patrons (more curious than hungry, Rama informed us) smirked or smiled up to me, with curry-filled plates in hand.



INFORMAL ECONOMY
Street vending in India plays out a textbook description of informal economies. While there are no legal government permits to operate and impose minimal safety regulations, vendors must bribe local police 10-20 rupees daily to avoid harassment. Despite the fluctuating conditions of the informal economy, vendors usually make more money than participants in the formal food industry according to Rama. #1 curry vendor dishes out an impressive 300 plates in three hours during the afternoon. At 20 rupees a plate, absent fixed start up costs, the man grosses nearly $120 USD for the shift. Variable operating costs are also lower with the one-item menu. Vending is a typically a family affair, with wife and mother participating in preparing and cooking the food. Unlike small independent restaurants in the formal sector, street carts are not usually passed down through the generations. Instead, many relocating Indians might set up a stall to alleviate debts while searching for other work. The unregulated nature of the street food economy has additionally created an informal credit system for trustworthy customers. Vendors may permit monthly payments for meals, and debts are casually memorized rather than meticulously recorded by pen and paper.

SOCIAL NORMS
In a small village, squeezed into another corner of Chennai, a shy woman was crouched by a circular griddle with her patterned sari wrapped neatly around her. She efficiently ladled and spread the fermented daal batter by her side over the hot stone in a few practiced movements. Minutes later, a thin dosa crepe was folded back onto a banana leaf, heaped with a familiar, spicy beef curry, and thrust eagerly into our hands. Feeling accustomed by this point to eating without utensils, I dug in and enjoyed a remarkable sixth dosa in three days. I had requested that we find a street vendor that "cooked" on site rather than merely dole out foods from industrial-sized pots prepared in-home. Beside me Rama beamed at the clear satisfaction on my face and the success of his mission.

Women are invisible participants in the street food industry. We questioned Rama about the female dosa vendor and discovered that her small set up was not typically intended to serve people outside of her village. Within the village, her role as a street vendor was more akin to a member of the cook crew in a cooperative living situation. A larger crowd, including toddlers and their caretakers, gathered around to watch us mop up the simple meal, wide-eyed in wonder as if to ponder, "Why are these foreigners here eating our humble food?" Humble or not my mouth tingled from its spicy deliciousness. Half of my delight I attributed to the elemental nature of our meal, and the other half to the opinion of my taste buds. Aside from our unusual presence, women are never seen eating from street vendors, much less playing the role of one. Rama explained that it was more comfortable for women to forgo the long stares in the clearly male-dominated environment and pay a few extra rupees to sit indoors. Not to say that women don't love street food as well; a national quality. Social customs differ throughout the country and in Goa and Karola, women feast or serve alongside men under the sun.

BEEF - The edible kind
Another intriguing aspect of Indian street food was the availability of meat in a predominantly vegetarian region. India has a hefty 80% Hindu majority which reveres the cow as the god Shiva's vehicle of transport, i.e. the cows with brightly painted, dual-tone horns, wandering aimlessly through the streets are not for eating. Beef and pork are absent from the handful of non-vegetarian South Indian restaurants, substituted instead with poultry or mutton. However, beef is surprisingly common in curries and stews from street carts, albeit scrappy, sinewy cuts and small cubes of liver; fine by me, I prefer the various textures. The reasoning is purely economical, beef is cheap whereas mutton is not.

SUGGESTIONS
Attach yourself to a local (preferably a rickshaw driver) to experience delicious street food at clean(er) locations. You can be certain that they have sampled every street cart around to find the best. Food vendors fill unexpected pockets around the city and would be impossible to scout out unguided. I had no need for either Immodium or pink Pepto, but bring both for peace of mind.