The Bofamily's European Adventure

The Bofamily's European Adventure Carpe'ing our diem with our twin boys

Wow. What a year. Despite snowstorms in the Midwest and wildfires in Los Angeles, we made it to LAX and are spending the...
17/01/2025

Wow. What a year.

Despite snowstorms in the Midwest and wildfires in Los Angeles, we made it to LAX and are spending the last night of our adventure at the Hyatt near the airport. Rick and the Boboys did a Target run for some French onion dip, Ruffles, Triscuits, applesauce, Cheerios and Big Gulps for our last dinner in America.

In the last thirteen months, we have visited 44 countries, countless castles and cathedrals and beaches covered in rocky gray, soft pink, and jet black sands. We have taken 27 flights and have covered thousands of kilometres in trains, cars and buses. We have marveled at bridges, peaks, cliffs, caves, coves, towers, fountains, ruins, mountains, and masterpieces. We’ve sampled delicacies from octopus salad to shark, reindeer meatballs, elk jerky, bacalao, ginja in chocolate cups, gator, ouzo, and dried fish chips. We’ve learned to prepare veal stew, baguettes, croissants, mayonnaise, orange chocolate cake, pain au chocolat, tortelli, tagliatelli, pastel de nata, Portuguese ribs, pork cheeks, salmorejo, bacalao croquettes, gelato, pork belly and a rich sauces with kimchi, beer and wine. We’ve learned that churches in Portugal gleam with silver, those in Spain shine in gold, Italian churches are decorated with fine art, houses of God in France display beautiful windows and vaulted ceilings, and mosque-cathedrals and palaces in Southern Spain celebrate the mixed heritage of the area.

We have admired glass blowers, crystal carvers, pastry chefs, silversmiths, jewelry artisans, painters and chestnut roasters hard at work. We crossed the Arctic Circle, the Prime Meridian and the Equator, celebrating each occasion. We dabbled in spoken French, Spanish, Portuguese, Italian, German, Polish, Swedish, Finnish, Norwegian, Dutch, Icelandic, Latvian, Lithuanian, Croatian and Greek long enough to wish our fellow man a good day, to thank others and to beg for forgiveness if we murdered their language in our attempt at culture.

We celebrated Feria, Semana Santa, the running of the bulls, the Menton Lemon Festival, Oktoberfest, D-Day, two Christmases and two New Year holidays. We shared our days and evenings with travelers from all areas of the world who regaled us with their stories of adventure and made good friends along the way. We drove the winding roads of Iceland, the impossibly narrow highways of Ireland, the country paths of rural France, and the racetrack that is the Autobahn. We experienced delays, cancellations, flooded train tracks, rough landings, bomb threat reroutes, an early disembarkation because of a forgotten backpack, the bus-board emesis of inexperienced port drinkers, dramatic turbulence, and rock-hard bicycle seats.

We realized that we only truly require three or four outfits as long as we keep up with laundry, beanies are essential in wintertime, Ikea names their toilet seats after cities in Denmark, a kitchen kit with some herbes du Provence, soy sauce, garlic powder, a good knife, a rubber spatula and a few bay leaves help make any rental a chef’s kitchen, and the lack of a corkscrew is not a barrier to a nice glass of wine. We saw pubgoers rise to their feet for their national anthem at the end of an evening in Ireland, energetic soccer fans chant and dance, Flamenco dancers stomp out their emotional routines, oompa bands pump out biergarten tunes, gauchos twirl their ladies around the ranch, natives of Greenland croon with their accordions, and groups of merry Italians singing and dancing in the streets.

We visited charming Christmas markets, the Matterhorn, Piz Gloria, the Eiffel Tower, the Colosseum, Notre Dame, the Neuschwanstein castle, the Vatican, the Alcazar, the rock of Gibraltar, the Cliffs of Moher, Giant’s Causeway, Loch Ness, the Tower of London, Stonehenge, the Nuremberg courts, war tunnels in Malta, Croatia and Montenegro, the Berlin Wall, the Little Mermaid, the Leaning Tower of Pisa, Cinqueterre, the French Riviera, Versailles, Big Ben, the Burj Khalifa, Christ the Redeemer, the ruins in Pompeii, Chateau Frontenac, the Plaza d’Espana, the Giralda, the Costa del Sol, the Blue Lagoon, Lake Como and the Alps aboard toboggans and the Glacier Express.

We have laughed, cried, worried, rushed, relaxed, argued, and reconciled. We’ve seen each other at our best and worst. The Boboys have grown nearly 20 cm and have mastered executing train travel, navigating airports, ordering meals in foreign restaurants, exploring cruise ships, organizing port calls, mounting cable cars, buses and shuttles, and renting city bicycles.

I have come away from this experience with a profound sense of humanity and a deep appreciation for life experiences with my family and friends. If I hadn’t shared my days and nights on this adventure with my boys, Rick and the family and friends who have joined us along the way, they would have meant far less to me. What I’m wearing and the car I’m driving mean nothing, but being present means the world. Most of all, I better appreciate how incredibly blessed I am to live surrounded by incredible, loving people. The world is indeed our oyster and I look forward to exploring and enjoying new destinations by land, sea and air with my beloved whanau in the years to come.

The magic of Montréal bumped La Métropole to the top of our favourite cities list. Sarah and Steve left the cozy comfort...
15/01/2025

The magic of Montréal bumped La Métropole to the top of our favourite cities list. Sarah and Steve left the cozy comfort of the Texas sun to share the chilly charm of our Canadian adventure. The north wind snapped at our necks as we traipsed through the snow under twinkling holiday lights, but we were wearing every piece of clothing left in our packs and big smiles that kept us wonderfully warm.

One of my best friends from high school, Dieter, braved the Michigan snow to pick us up for dinner during our layover in Detroit. We have kept in touch over the years, but hadn’t hugged each other’s necks since 1997. Once we sat down, it was like we had just visited yesterday. There are few restaurants more classically American than Big Boy, where Sandy served us cheeseburgers and cheese steaks while we caught up. Dieter’s Tesla sprang into action, plastering our hair back with its incredible acceleration. Who needs Disneyland with Dieter around?? One more hug and we were again queuing up for another flight.

We thoroughly enjoyed a day trip to Québec City and Montmorency Falls complete with a visit to Château Frontenac and a plate piled high with poutine. Atop my fries, melted curds, rich gravy and duck confit created a symphony of winter wonderfulness we all savoured. It took everything I had to not bring Marcel, the fuzzy hat with a face, home with me. His price tag ($250USD!) and the balmy New Zealand summer that awaits us won the battle of whimsy vs. reason. Still, I will remember him and his beady eyes fondly.

Holidays with the Bantas are always too much fun. Sarah brought roaring laughter when we found the motion activated bathroom snowman who greeted us every time nature called in Texas. His jovial “Hey! What ya doing? On second thought, never mind!” and “If you need any presents wrapped, I’ve got plenty of paper!” made us feel right at home. The shiny fuschia pineapple bottles brought a bit of the tropics to our snowy apartment at the beautiful Sonder Apollon in Vieux Montréal.

Donna and Tom also flew in from Washington to share in our frigid fun. We learned knife and sauce techniques from a professional, yet quirky, three-star Michelin chef at a cooking class near our hotel. We prepared a kimchi and cucumber salad with Asian pear, salmon and pork belly with African-Caribbean mango salsa and a beer reduction covered white asparagus. The chef’s pairings of a Canadian cider, local IPA and full, dry Margot made the flavours bloom with every bite.

Inspired by our beautiful ingredients, we gave the Marché Jean-Talon a gander. Merchants offered friendly greetings behind tables nursing with colourful produce. We collected everything we needed to make our Parisian veal stew for dinner. A Lebanese shop served up some bowls overflowing with kofta and kebabs that warmed our tummies. Donna snapped up a beautiful strawberry rhubarb pie before she and Tom headed home to set up our kitchen.

The rest of us perused a few shops, stopped for a hot cocoa and popped over to La Ville de Mont Royal for a curling lesson! With a heavy French accent and inspiring vigour, Coach Claude taught us and a family from Turkey the basics of his sport. After donning non-slip shoe covers, we took to the ice, lunged, pushed and swept our way into the curling experience. It was such fun! The challenge of pushing the 45-pound rock just hard enough to reach our target without slipping past was more difficult than the Canadian Olympians made it seem. Still, we gave it our all, reveling in our victory over the other team.

Claude released us back into the snow globe after evening had fallen, so on the way home, we marveled at streets and monuments decorated for the season. On arrival, we stomped the snow from our shoes and set to searing our veal and slicing the rainbow carrots and shiny red pepper for our dinner. Donna and Tom had found fond de veau at the market! We felt like we were still in Paris. The aroma of our masterpiece filled the corridors, guiding everyone to the table. The eight of us bellied up for hearty servings of comfort food and pie, only pushing back when we had cleared our plates of every drop of rich gravy with thick pieces of toasted baguette and only lonely pastry crumbs remained resting in pools of melted ice cream.

We reluctantly rolled out of bed the next day to another amazing Aunt Sarah brunch. Bagels, cheese, bacon, croissants, fruit salad, and hot coffee welcomed us to our travel day. A gigantic winter storm had stranded Jen in Dallas, snow was falling at the Detroit airport and fires raged in LA bringing some spice to our plans. We knew our carefully honed travel skills would serve us well, so we headed off to the airport, jackets packed, to brave the world of global adventure.

Snow was indeed flying when we arrived in the Motor City, horizontally! Our airline launched their snowstorm procedures into action, filling and expertly de-icng our plane with only a few minutes of delay. A fiery sunset lingered outside of our windows as we flew west, and only when we had reached California did the vibrant colours disappear from view. Warm air welcomed us to our hotel, safe from wildfires and smoke, to exhale.

We can't believe we have reached our last stop before heading home. We have seen, heard, tasted, smelled and done incredible things this year. It’s no wonder that we are exhausted.

Siesta Key is beautiful, and it’s paradise when enjoyed with family! My awesome Uncle Paul and Aunt Pam live in Sarasota...
14/01/2025

Siesta Key is beautiful, and it’s paradise when enjoyed with family! My awesome Uncle Paul and Aunt Pam live in Sarasota and very generously rented a house on Siesta Key for us to share the holiday together. In short, we had a blast!

The weather was perfect, warm enough to romp around in the pool with our two sea monster boys, and cool at night for a walk to Lenny’z Pizza to watch the football playoffs over a pie. Rick and Smith went for a leisurely kayak down the canal before we hit the beach in search of shark teeth at sunset.

Uncle Paul taught the boys to play cribbage, which they picked up and loved, and refined their golf swings. We all endured his corny jokes as we caught up on the latest in retired life in Florida. Plans were volleyed about meeting up in Hawaii, Mexico or other parts between so we can spend more time together. Our spirit of adventure was spurred after sharing brunch with Aunt Pam’s sister Kim and her husband, Mike. My Mediterranean omelette was delicious and the conversation was fabulous.

Aunt Pam spoiled us with our favourite foods - Rice Chex, Cheerios, applesauce, Jimmy Dean’s sausages and Pepper Jack cheese, which we devoured with gusto. On our last day, our teacher became the student when Smith taught Uncle Paul to play Pac-Man. Next time we see each other, it’ll be tournament time!

Hasta la vista, Uncle Ducky. We are grateful for such a fabulous visit.

Lucky are we who find friends that love us unconditionally, support us in our every endeavour and fill our hearts with j...
13/01/2025

Lucky are we who find friends that love us unconditionally, support us in our every endeavour and fill our hearts with joy. I thank God every day for bringing Steve and Sarah Banta into my life in 1996 and for helping us develop the incredible bond we share. After 29 years of being Family, we have reached the point of sharing of ourselves with no holds barred.

The minute Steve and Sarah heard me share our plans for Europe, they booked tickets to Paris to share the City of Lights with us and Jen in April. During one of our incredible dinners there, Sarah asked about Jen’s plans after finishing her French course and our ideas for Christmas and homecoming in January 2025. Jen’s blank stare and my stammerings about ideas for crossing hemispheres were met with insistent invitations to spend time with Sarah and Steve in Texas. We gratefully accepted their gracious invitation and solidified our plans for commandeering the Adriatic Sea together in October.

As per usual, Sarah nailed it and our visits to the Bantas’ home in Texas were exactly what we needed. Jen was able to get her driving permit, make a great friend and build her resume from the comfort of Banta Manor and our Christmas and New Years holiday was magnificent.

We arrived in Corpus Christi from Buenos Aires on Christmas Eve. In keeping with her incredibly generous spirit, Sarah had invited Alec, Cady, Lauren and Ian to Texas to share in our celebration, and they were all there to greet us. Her house was decked out in tinsel, ribbon, candles and beautiful, lush garlands. Christmas dishes and linens were laid out waiting to be piled high with Sarah's hearty meals. A beautiful pine stood in the front window bedecked with lights and ornaments in fabulous festive style. In short, every detail had been attended to. We hugged our kids under the Bantas’ warm welcome and watched for Santa’s sleigh.

Christmas morning, we awoke to the rich aromas of Sarah’s gourmet breakfast feast. Never one to take the simple route, Sarah laid out an abundant spread with every possible delicacy. Our stockings were chock full of carefully-chosen treasures and Bing and Gene serenaded us with Christmas classics.

We snuggled into the smooshy couches and round-robin opened gifts until we were covered in plaid paper and beaming with Christmas joy. Steve was thankful for the special whiskey we offered, Alec and Cady pondered the charcuterie they may serve on the olivewood board we brought from Switzerland, Lauren imagined the crepes she’d create on our pan from Biarritz, Jen drowned in the spa delights from her stocking and the Boboys dug into the models and Vikings posters Santa brought. When Sarah opened the voucher for the hammock she’d been coveting, the room lit up with her smile. It made my holiday seeing her so happy.

Little did I know, her smile could grow even more broad. Aunt Sarah is notorious for giving the Boboys gifts that Mama G finds incorrigible. She brought a battery-powered fart machine to Paris and two squeaky rubber chickens to Venice. Each time, the joy she felt in indulging the Boboys while simutaneously giving them gifts that would make the hair on my neck curl showed on her face in a devious grin. Today, we enjoyed that face again. As Aunt Sarah handed my Boboys identical packages, she met my glance, beaming. I cowered as my children ripped through the paper covering their presents.

She. Gave. Them. Harmonicas.

And cackled.

Thank God we are the best of friends, because I may have called Sarah several names I wouldn’t have uttered in front of my grandmother. It was difficult to be cross seeing her so elated in her choice of gifts. As the Boboys launched into a cacophony of melodies, the other Bokids and Steve joined Sarah in her joy and even Rick and I surrendered to the moment and laughed.

My turn was next. More tears flowed, of love this time, as I opened a box holding a glass bracelet I had admired and considered in Montenegro. Twice during our visit I returned to the boutique that featured the bauble, but I couldn’t justify the expenditure on a piece that would require space-occupying emballage and risked breakage in my pack. Always attendant to the wants and needs of others, Sarah had observed my inner struggle and stealthily snapped up the piece, squirreling it away until Christmas. She is one of the most generous people I’ve ever known, and, in classic Sarah spirit, she wrapped it up with a pair of coordinating Murano glass earrings from Venice. Unreal. I am truly blessed.

Santa regaled the Boboys with an absolutely ridiculous gift. We are traveling the world, Santa! The last thing we needed was a 9,100-piece Lego Titanic! Still, his jolly beardedness brought such. Jen had amassed quite an array of treasures during her sejour in Texas and our mountain of gifts was overwhelming, so we had to pack two extra suitcases to bring back to New Zealand!

The Bobanta Christmas Extravaganza had nearly wrapped up when Chase presented Smith with a special gift that he had worked on for several days. I had watched him diligently engineer the secret present for hours as we crossed the Atlantic and encouraged him to ask Alec to help him procure the components and assemble the masterpiece. Still, none of us were prepared for the presentation of the custom gift. Never had any of us realized how empty our lives were without a toilet plunger whose handle was wrapped in dill pickles and whose bell was filled with M&Ms, covered in duct tape and decorated with carefully-sliced bites of beef sticks until Smith was regaled with one of his own. Smith’s reception of his gift and Chase’s taking a bite of a handle-pickle were moments that none of us will soon forget.

Despite spoiling us at breakfast, Sarah was not finished. She had planned and prepped a Christmas dinner to beat all. While the rest of us lounged and enjoyed our bounty, Sarah prepared a stuffed, roasted turkey, a glazed ham, luscious buttered mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, elote corn, rolls and gravy and Steve fried a second turkey. This number two bird was extra special because Uncle Steve took the time to teach the Boboys the fine art of turkey fryage. He showed them how to prepare the pot and instructed them in the operation of a fire extinguisher. He carefully placed the thermometer and monitored it with my boys until the oil was ready for our victim. (He later taught them how to handle the used oil. Incredible uncle-age!)

We piled our plates high and found seats at Sarah’s exquisitely decorated tables. Over our beautiful dinners, we shared memories and hopes and enjoyed each other’s company. We had a lot to catch up on with Sarah and Steve’s son, Nathan and his wife, Megan whose son, Carter had been born in the time since we had last seen them. It was great to hear about their success in technology and design and to watch Carter be little. He is adorable!!!

Over the following eight days, we chatted, laughed, played and rested. Rick and I could not be more proud of Alec, Cady, Lauren, Nathan and Megan and were rapt by their stories of work and success. They are all forging incredible lives in complicated worlds and are all happy. We couldn’t want anything more. A rousing game of Taco Cat Goat Cheese Pizza left us with sore bellies from laughing, bruised hands from our spirits of competition, and memories of a wonderful time together. We missed my sister-in-law Alli and Aunt Brenda, but we toasted to their health. Watching my Boboys play catch with their big bro and sis warmed my heart. Chase and Smith snapped up every possible doggy-snuggle moment with Roux and Ripley, prompting even kitties Ringo and Rikki to join the mix. Our shopping tour of the Sunday Trade Center was a Texas must, and though we passed on the snake skin belts and ten-gallon hats, I found a pretty embroidered dress to remind me of our fabulous stay.

Steve treated us all to incredible tours of the USS Lexington, a World War II aircraft carrier turned museum in Corpus Christi. Steve is the Executive Director of the museum and it's clear that he loves his work. We marveled at the flight deck covered with aircraft from all branches of the military and planes from Top Gun, berthings, exhibits and memorials to sailors of yore. We defeated the SOS Escape Room on board, earning congratuations from the design and operations staffs!

Games of catch, dinners at classic Tex-Mex and barbeque restaurants (the Boboys were enchanted by the huge cups free refills), rousing rounds of Uno and Hues and Cues, a game based on the aggravatingly subjective characterization of colours that nearly killed Rick and Steve, and cozy nights featuring classic movies rounded out our incredible holiday.

Nine days flew by without us even noticing. Before we knew it, we were toasting 2025. We blinked and the holiday had passed.

Fortunately, Steve and Sarah’s devotion and wanderlust have not waned, and they will be meeting us in Montreal next week, so we didn’t have to say goodbye. Instead, a hearty hug and deep thanks for an incredible holiday was shared by all.

Our gastronomic tour of the Western world would not have been complete without a trip (or two) to an SoCal Mexican food ...
13/01/2025

Our gastronomic tour of the Western world would not have been complete without a trip (or two) to an SoCal Mexican food truck. Luckily LAX is within walking distance of a good dozen options. I told the proprietors that they would do a brisk business in New Zealand! Please??

Rounding out our South American experience, we ventured into the countryside for a day at a gaucho ranch. Gauchos were o...
12/01/2025

Rounding out our South American experience, we ventured into the countryside for a day at a gaucho ranch. Gauchos were once known as lazy criminals, but were made mysterious and glamorous when writer Jose Hernandez created oeuvres recounting their rich, rough lives. Gauchos rode the small, stocky horses the Spanish brought with them in 1536, carrying knives handed down from fathers to sons and three-balled bolas to overcome adversaries. When a gaucho lost a fight to another at a pulperia watering hole, he gave him a coin from his belt to adorn the victor’s. All of these accoutrements were crafted by local smiths from native silver. An atelier that continues this tradition opened its doors to us to showcase the intricate work they do and the shiny pieces they create. The detail was incredible. We strove to imagine carrying the heavy implements while wearing a thick protective poncho in the South American summer. Just the thought made us sweat.

In Uruguay, almost everyone we saw carried a mate cup and thermos as they made their way down the street. In Argentina, the drink is enjoyed with friends as a social custom. Crushed, dried leaves from the mate bush fill a special cup fitted with a strainer spoon. The host pours water that is carefully heated to a temperature just shy of boiling over the leaves and drinks. Then, she pours more water over and offers a drink to her friend. One must accept the invitation to share in the custom and take in the entire drink poured. The shared straw is not to be touched, and each drinker’s turn is taken without delay. If one gets chatty and holds the cup too long, they are asked if they are “teaching the mate to speak.” Only when you don’t care for any more do you thank your host.

In San Antonio de Areco, we were immersed in gaucho ranch life. Broad, flat pampas surrounded the settlement where chefs and dancers offered beautiful local Malbec, cheese, chorizo and bread and a seemingly endless lunch of beef, pork and empanadas. A man sharing our table was wearing a Clemson hat, so I struck up a conversation. I had heard him say that he and his family were from Italy, so I mustered up the little Italian I had learned in Siena and consulted Google translate to tell him “cuesti colori e cuesta zampa sono Della mia universita.” He answered “Clemson?!” in perfect English. It turns out he is a big fan of college football and quite likes my Tigers. We shared travel stories as we feasted on local specialties.

After lunch, we mounted horses for a quick tour of the fields. Mine had a bit of a mind of its own, but my rein handling was enough to keep her in line. We enjoyed the breeze in our hair and the Boboys guffawed as the beasts released mounds of waste along our path.

Incredible traffic brought our return to a crawl, yet we had plenty of time to collect our bags and check in at the airport for our Christmas flight to Texas!

Buenos dias Argentina! We bid farewell to our ship and new friends in balmy Buenos Aires, where we planned two days of e...
11/01/2025

Buenos dias Argentina! We bid farewell to our ship and new friends in balmy Buenos Aires, where we planned two days of exploration. The city was established in the mid-1500s by the Spanish who named it Santa Maria de Buenos Aires for its refreshing winds. The area remained a colony of Spain until 1810, when locals fought for independence after learning that Napoleon had jailed their king. Forty years of civil wars followed, culminating in the union of regional colonies who named their land for local silver, or argento. The last dictator was overtaken in 1983 and Argentina has been a democracy since.

Buenos Aires is often called the “Paris of South America” for the architecture and style of the city. Many buildings indeed share the Hauptmann style of the City of Lights, bringing to mind our amazing apartment next to the Eiffel Tower. Most of Argentina’s economy, though, is agricultural with soybeans, corn, wheat and beef propping up trade.

Floralis Generica, a giant roadside sculpture made in 2002 from old aircraft parts as a thank you gift for the artist’s free education amazed us. Though a recent storm had damaged the hydraulic system that opens the petals every morning and closes them at night, the grace of the work was magnificent.

Palaces once owned by wealthy families line the streets of the Palermo neighborhood. The Great Depression destroyed the export-based riches locals amassed, forcing them to sell their mansions. Today, the palaces house embassies of countries around the world. Many areas of Buenos Aires display the Italian heritage of their residents in their names and fashion. The stately homes, decorated with magnolias, palms and lavender, proudly displayed international flags.

Monuments that brought memories of New Orleans and Paris cemeteries stood against the bright blue sky at the Cemetery de Recolleta. As we walked the solemn paths between the mausoleums, we learned that many covered up to sixteen stories of graves below. The Yellow Fever epidemic of 1871 killed fifteen percent of the city’s population, many of whom lived together in long, slim “casas chorizos.”

Eva Peron’s monument displayed a memorial plaque, but was otherwise similar to the other stone structures. Though she died at 33, Eva was an important, and politically decisive figure. Even today, Argentina is divided into those who love her and those who hate her for diminishing the power of the aristocracy in Argentina.

City Hall, aka “The Pink House” for the bloodstained pork fat once used to seal the paint, was a curious find and statues, churches, monuments and stadiums dot the Buenos Aires landscape. The most memorable area, La Boca, was super cool. Sitting at the mouth of the river, hence the name, the neighborhood celebrates its history through maintenance of multicoloured buildings and a festive street scene. When La Boca served as the city port, many Italian immigrants lived and worked there. They created homes from corrugated metal panels and begged for paint from incoming ships. Rarely were they able to cover their entire abode with one colour, resulting in vibrant, eclectic houses.

Our tour guide ended our visit with a note about the famous Argentinian tango. Originally forbidden by the rich for being too sensual, the tradition of tango lives today, not in the spirit of love, but rather, heartbreak. Our guide’s grandfather told him to not “try to find the tango, the tango will find you,” meaning only after experiencing the loss of a love will he understand the complex dance.

How steak from Uruguay isn't as well known as beef from Argentina or Brazil mystified us. We indulged in a carnivore fea...
06/01/2025

How steak from Uruguay isn't as well known as beef from Argentina or Brazil mystified us. We indulged in a carnivore feast fit for royalty today in Montevideo. With a population of 3.3 million people and 20 million cows, it stands to reason that the cattle industry booms here. God bless the chefs who create silky, savory, sumptuous suppers for connoisseurs like us. Their oeuvres won't soon be forgotten.

Prior to devouring a gigantic pan of grilled delicacies, the Bofamily mounted bicycles to see Montevideo. Constitution Square, commemorating Uruguay's independence from the Spanish Crown in 1825, displayed a beautiful statue and huge, majestic trees. The city was originally completely walled with the Spanish enjoying life inside the protection from the Portuguese outside. The gravity of the city's history was not lost on us as we stood under the original gate.

Independence Square and a statue of Jose Artias, the father of the military in Uruguay, welcomed us after we glided through the arch. Surrounding the square stood magnificent Art Deco and Art Nouveau buildings tucked behind creative copses of trees. Our guide was very proud to teach us that unemployment is only six percent in Uruguay, forty percent of her citizens speak English and with an income tax between ten and thirty-five percent, the people of Uruguay enjoy free health care and free education through graduate school.

We rode along the banks of the Silver River on a beautiful cycleway, nodding at locals and tourists enjoying the views and moderate temperatures past the Teatro Solis Opera House to the Punta Galleta Lighthouse and the Playa Pocitos on Montevideo Bay. The beach was named for the areas covered with laundry that formed holes in the sand, or "pocitos."

Montevideo loves tourists who grace their shores, including we who hop on bicycles to see their fair city. In support of such expeditions, the municipality assigns police escorts to the tours! Having a motorcycle officer hold traffic for us made us feel very safe and quite like Bo-royalty.

At the end of our ride, our guide stopped at the mouth of the large market near the port to give us some last-minute pointers. We figured he was on the barbacoa payroll as we strained to listen to his words of wisdom over the incredible aromas wafting from the large warehouse. Funny how one sense can overpower the rest, isn't it? We were champing at the bit to return our chariots and rush back for a midday feast.

Earlier this year, the MSC Poesia carried us along the Baltic Sea and into exotic ports of call. Imagine our surprise when we saw her docked next to our Norwegian Star in Uruguay! We reminisced about our karaoke ventures and frozen cocktails as we returned to the market for lunch. As we neared the harbor, Chase said "Hey, that's Gabriel, one of the bartenders that served me virgin coladas in Latvia and Lithuania!" In unapologetic defiance of Chase's sheepish pleas for anonymity, I approached Gabriel to say hello and to thank him for taking good care of my boys in the other hemisphere. He was tickled pink to be recognized and we all wished each other well. The Small World phenomenon struck us all dumb.

The global coincidence added loft to our steps as we approached the market and found a restaurant. We understood our waiter despite the incredible rapidity with which he spoke, and ordered the barbacoa plate he recommended. For $100 USD, we were offered three types of grilled beef, rice, potatoes, fries and salad. Sold. When the huge pan of glistening meat arrived, we could barely contain our drool. I had to earn at least a few Mom Points, so I foisted a large scoop of salad on everyone, but not before every Boman dove into the pile of protein. The incredible steak, roast and ribs from the heated pan mellllllllted in our mouths. Never in our lives had we tasted rich, silky, savory goodness that matched that which graced our table that day. The local Malbec recommended by our swift-speaking server brought the fabulous flavours to fruition and the entire Bofamily to silent splendour. Chase easily ate half of the glorious dish, as well as scoops of rice and potatoes. (I eschewed these to have room for more beef.) We did a Bowaddle back to the ship, already reminiscing about our experience. Incredulous, I stared open-mouthed as Chase headed to the pub for a bowl of chili and ice cream cone before returning to our cabin for a rest.

Given the opportunity, we will return to Uruguay, if not for a cultural experience, to gorge ourselves on their incredible carnivorous offerings.

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