“I have brought you a loaf…” CS Lewis, The Pilgrim’s Regress
Bread, it is said, is the staff of life and everywhere we eat, bread is brought to table first. The trouble with bread is that my body thinks it is poison. Well, it’s not bread specifically but the gluten protein that wheat, rye, and barley contain. I will spare you the details of past poisonings — suffice it to say, it isn’t pretty.
Travelling in a foreign country means communicating my food needs to servers who often do not speak English and may not understand gluten in their own tongue, let alone mine. That’s why it’s important to make a few preparations prior to our trip.
Through the Canadian Celiac Association I found a website that offers printable cards with brief explanations of my condition in as many languages as you can imagine. I print them at home and carry a few of each in the language of the countries we plan to visit. When I order a meal in a restaurant, I do my best to choose a menu item that looks safe and present my card to the server. I ask if my condition can be accommodated. And I learn how to say “no gluten” in the language of the day.
For example, I wanted to try the traditional Spanish dish of paella for lunch today. We found a photo of seafood paella on the menu, then I asked the server if she could accommodate me (using my card). I pointed to myself and said, “sin gluten”. She shook her finger at me with a smile, and pulled us outside, pointing to another restaurant “in one minute walk” that could accommodate my food needs. We found the place down a narrow alley, just as she said. As it turned out, the owner and his small son are celiac. He set us up at an outdoor table, and brought me a loaf of gluten-free baguette — warm and soft on the inside and crusty on the outside. The seafood paella was delicious with loads of fresh prawns, clams, mussels, saffron and pork, of course. The bread was truly a gift! If you happen to be in Salamanca, look for Jero Restaurant, Calle Melendez, 11.
It seems that every place has its culinary specialty. In Spain, one of those is pinchos or tapas, as Spaniards to the south call them. Ordering pinchos takes quite a lot of courage. And let it be known that I am a quiet, rather shy person in unfamiliar company so ordering pinchos put me somewhere to the far left of my comfort zone. The setting is chaotic — with masses of bodies calling out their orders to the one main server behind the bar. I heard no English, only Spanish. Well, to be specific, the language is Euskara, not even a twist on Spanish but closer to Hungarian and specific to the Basque people. We found a pinchos bar that Rick Steves’ guide book recommended — something with gluten-free options. (Look for Taberna Gandarias, 31 de Agosto 23, San Sebastian) I moseyed up to the bar (at my eye level) and showed the server my card. “Si!” Okay, so, then I was stuck. He smiled and handed me an English menu, which we took to the side bar and chose 2 or 3 things that looked safe. I pushed my way back to the bar — the server looked pleased, and I shouted my order while he indicated “si” or “non” and offered alternatives. The food was amazing and I was well rewarded for my efforts.
Today, we arrived in Segovia. It was 29 degrees celsius when we returned the rental car and hiked up the hill to our hotel. There were two gelato spots within easy reach, so my man ordered a lovely looking sorbet. Sadly, none were “sin gluten”. And that’s the way it goes sometimes.
It may sound strange to say, but here a little prayer is in order: “Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference. Amen.” Or in French, “ca c’est”.
Being celiac and travelling can present some real challenges, especially if the travel is on foreign terrain. But when someone brings me a gluten-free loaf or gluten-free tapas, or gluten-free paella, I feel ever-so-grateful for their effort, for whomever has gone here before and for the joy of good food.
I want to add, that ever since my diagnosis 11 years ago, my husband has been my greatest and most patient advocate. Often the food I need can only be had in places that prepare it from scratch and that means higher cost. Or we try several places before we find something that works. Or we opt for a picnic of cold cuts and cheese, pickles and tomatoes. He never complains. And I feel so very grateful for his patience, his care and his commitment to my good health.
