When Your Travel Partner Falls in Love: Sweetly Desert

So after 12 years of planning, we were finally there. My college roommate and I were backpacking through Asia, armed only with twin Lonely Planets and a commitment to absolutely no advanced planning.

Picking a travel partner is an art, but luckily we had lived together in the past, and were clued into the things you don’t learn about a person until you’re confined to close quarters. I’m an early riser; she loves to sleep; She’s California, I’m New York; I’m a hypochondriac, she’s a doctor; She loves food like few I know, I cook; She's book smart, I'm street smart; She’s blonde, I’m brunette; we’re a perfect pair.

Everything was working according to our non-plan until a British gentleman farmer sat behind us one night during a ocean front moonlit dinner and interrupted dinner with the following: “Pardon me, but would the two of you mind terribly if I pour you a glass of wine? You see, the wines by the glass are for shit, and I couldn’t possibly finish a bottle on my own. Would you indulge me?”

Of all the traveling single women duos in this country, why did the Baron need to bust in on mine? Because another yin-yang perfection of my traveling partnership was that while I can’t be bothered with the obvious come-ons of a well endowed Continental, Juliet had yet to hear a line that didn’t make her smile. And her smile has a pull that requires recalibration of the most stubborn compasses.

And so he sat with us. And shared no less than three bottles of wine. And greeted us with brilliantly strong Vietnamese coffees the next morning at 4AM, so that we could all take mopeds to watch the sunrise in the dunes. Their first kiss happened within 20 hours of their meeting, and within the first 72 hours of our trip.

And so we all smouldered – they together, me alone. It was unclear how to proceed; nothing like the third-wheel feeling 3 days into a trip 12 years in the making, yet, I wanted my friend to be happy and fall in.

I think it was their couples massage (in place of our girl time) that really sent me over the edge. I insisted on dining alone that night, explaining using a French phrase I had just learned, “No one wants to hold the candle during another’s romantic dinner.”

He countered by gifting me with the best ocean-view bungalow in the resort the following night. (Which I would have all to myself, clearly.)

I thought to the trials of a close friend back home, who after an unfortunate drought, has recently been enjoying the attention of a new beau. Unfortunately she has a roommate, and their rooms are separated by a wall slightly thicker than a worn sheet. Oh where to enjoy his affections? The roommate has decided to move out, making an uncomfortable situation worse.

I didn’t want to be that roommate, but I couldn’t stomach another Italian meal in Vietnam (Baron has an aversion to Asian food). T’was time for me to get outside myself, my empty love life, and enjoy the love Juliet was having, the way retired athletes enjoy watching an up-and-comer use their skills. I chose to bask in their glow.

After three days, we separated from The Great Baron, but kept in feverish contact with nightly phone calls and emails. He’s coming to San Francisco next week to celebrate their birthdays, and as likely as I am to eye-roll at the notion of a back-pack romance going anywhere, this one is making tracks.

Truth told, I’m a little sad I wasn’t invited on this part of our trip: I miss our grouplet. Not only would I hold the candle, I’d even buy the champagne, pour it and raise a glass to toast the beauty of new love, constantly in bloom, enjoyed only by those savvy enough to relent, recognize and pursue it.



Vanilla Mascarpone: The Sweetest Dessert
This one is for the semanticists, as my blog title implies sometimes it’s best to leave lovers alone (in the desert, deserted), and similarly when it comes to desserts, sometimes the best are those that are undertouched: a bowl of seasonal berries and cream, or this lightly flavored Mascarpone enjoyed with a high quality cookie of the butter and egg variety (please, no corn syrup, starch, guar gum or other oddities).

Hats off to my pal, the roommate without a roommate mentioned above for coming up with this treat. She had a group over for a girls grill night recently, and whipped this together without much ado.

4 ounces imported mascarpone cheese (1/2 tub)
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1 1/2 teaspoons honey
1 3.52-ounce package Jules Destrooper Butter Crisps

Combine the first three ingredients in a small bowl. Serve with your favorite fruit dessert, and butter crisps.