Naples - Pizzeria da Michele

'You like pizza?' asked our taxi driver as he weaved between the harrowing roads of Naples, never for a moment breaking eye contact to glance at the road ahead, 'Si, it's why we are here' we answered. With that he screeched to a stop in the middle of the road, pointing down a nearby alley. 'Da Michele', he said, 'It is where you must go'. And so we did.

It turns out we had stumbled upon what is widely regarded as one of the best pizzerias in Naples, and the very same one that Julia Roberts eats at in Eat Pray Love. With a crowd of fast talking Italians and wide-eyed tourists outside jostling for a table, I had little doubt that we had found the right place.

As our number was called we were bustled into the restaurant, which seemed all the more authentic for its stark white walls, fluorescent lighting, and throw-away plastic cups. No menus, of course, so we ordered quattro margarita pizzas with extra mozarella, and quattro birra to match.

Of course the wait was excruciating. Just knowing you are about to eat what is possibly one of the best pizzas in the world is a concept that almost completely overwhelmed me.

And there it was; bubbling, gooey, charred, crispy, and traditionally soupy and soggy in the middle. This, this exact moment of pure happiness and gluttony, is why I went traveling.

It's so far off any other pizza I had ever had before. The dough, more like a naan than anything, was so soft there wasn't a chance of eating it in hand like a normal slice, so we hacked at it with our cutlery, using our hands to roll it up and clean the messy juices as we went.

The toppings were simple; a strong sweet tomato sauce, chewy bubbling mozarella and a small sprig of basil in the middle.

To quote Elizabeth Gilbert in Eat Pray Love, who describes it much more aptly than I ever could: "I love my pizza so much, in fact, that I have come to believe in my delirium that my pizza might actually love me, in return. I am having a relationship with this pizza, almost an affair."

Sitting here writing this, now with a few more Neapolitan pizzas in my stomach, I can barely remember what a 'normal' pizza tastes like, but why would I want to? The days of stiff crusts and dry toppings are behind me (well, at least as long as I stay in Naples).

Picnic in Paris

It started off with my first Parisian pan au chocolat. We had ducked into the beautiful patissiere on the corner of our street to get a bite to eat to tide us over. 'Why are you taking a photo?' Asked one of the girls. 'You only have your first pastry in Paris once' I replied. And it was perfect, of course.

We arrived on the edge of the Siene at the Notre Dame, wandering around wide eyed in awe of the stunning building. We chose to admire it from the comfort of a cafe, croissant and coffee in hand.

We wandered aimlessly along the Siene for the next hour, taking in the sounds, smells and sights of Paris. When our legs grew tired we jumped on bikes, and headed for what we were told was one of the best cheese shops in the city.

Fromagerie Barthélemy is a cheese lovers dream. We opened the door to a waft of strong cheese, and I knew we were in the right place. To my delight they spoke no English, and basically decided what cheese we wold be buying. We left with a round of goats cheese, and a wedge each of a blue and a brie. 

With our haul of cheese we again jumped on the bikes and made for the Eiffel Tower. Touristy, of course, but it there was no better place for our picnic in Paris. As we continued along the Siene, we passed restaurants and markets, stopping for fruit and bread to add to our stash.

We sat, we ate, and we dozed under the enormous tower. The gorging of cheese and the hot sun left us sleepy, and barely able to move from our little oasis.

London - Wahaca

So there I was; bags packed, cameras in tow and ready to set off on two painstakingly long flights as I embarked on my OE.

While it felt like I was about to explore unseen places and make my mark on the world I was hardly breaking the mould, I was following a path to London worn in by many Kiwis before me. Just another bag pushing the 23kg weight limit, another wallet stuffed full of pounds...just another farewell on the well trodden red carpet at the Auckland International Airport departures gate.

Knowing many have gone before me doesn't make it any easier though; a long few weeks of goodbyes, many tears, and about 4 garbage bags full of things I couldn't take with me later, I was absolutely shattered and looking forward to the 24 hours of confined movie watching and sleeping ahead.

So finally, after two flights, one train, and two tubes later I emerged from the depths of the London Underground to a blaze of sunshine (don't worry, I won't get used to it), and a flurry of almost laughably cliched red double-decker buses and black cabs. I had most definitely arrived.

Of course one of the appeals of London is the food. While the NZ food scene is in it's prime with trendy new places opening each week, I greedily wanted more, and more I will certainly get. With it's never ending stream of new openings, pop-ups, and what seems like an ridiculous amount of burger restaurants, I had arrived in my very own foodie-heaven.

My first meal out, and the eventual point of this post is Wahaca; a trendy Mexican restaurant chain in Soho. Tat and I visited for lunch, and immediately I was impressed by the cool decor. Admittedly I was (and still am) wide-eyed and impressionable after less that 24 hours in the city, but I think anyone would agree that this place had nailed it.

We eased in with guacamole to start, with corn chips and fennel dusted pork scratchings as our dipping vessels.

Photo-shy Tat (or maybe she just doesn't like me taking photos while she had a mouth full of guac) and I shared a few dishes from the main menu, but they do do an epic weekday lunch special for 10 pounds which looked pretty damn good too.

We weren't too hungry so only ordered a few things - the prawn and scallop ceviche tostada, and the fiery pork tacos to share.

We were told this wouldn't be enough food but were both left groaning in our seats, thankful that we had a walk home to relieve us.

The food was quick, delicious and reasonably cheap (even with me converting everything to NZD in my head), and I left buzzing after my first gastronomic adventure in the city that will soon be my home (well, second home).