© Photo by Kathy Huertas/The Washington Post
Last summer, after turning 40, I decided to leave dating sites to focus on myself.
For the second year in a row, I planned a multi-month vacation to learn about food culture and practice gray living, a term my therapist taught me as an internship. Thoughts. After Narbonne, not knowing where the European wind would take me, I decided to start from the south of France. In a plus year, my office is available anywhere there is Wi-Fi.
Traveling alone is my speed, but over time it starts to look easy, like a hot dog needs seasoning. I wanted a hookup and a relationship, so I turned Tinder back on. After that, direct potential dates with “Tell me some cheese from your area.”
I wanted more: more than a one-night stand, a boring, never-ending joke that leads to a missed date. I decided to use my love of the outdoors as a food and travel writer – learning about local cheeses and culture – as well as my other main passions to fill the void of loneliness abroad.
© Jane Rice / Jane Rice Zaton Bay sunset in Croatia.
For most of my trip I was playing travel roulette, finding last minute deals on hotel nights and often making decisions about where to go based on price. I booked a $45 Hopper plane ticket from Dubrovnik to Naples for Concetina i tre Santi, a pizza so intoxicating that there’s a hacker at the door. Big European cities like Paris, Madrid and Rome are cheaper in the summer and locals can find cheap Airbuses when they’re looking for the beach.
There is always a risk factor in dating apps: stranger danger. Overseas, I always reach out to the person by asking for a FaceTime call before the meeting. If I don’t agree, no meeting for me. I always share my location with a few friends and let them know when I have an appointment. Asking me to come to your remote farm in the middle of nowhere is a wake-up call. Always go to a crowded place on the first date and gauge the mood. Trust your gut: If something goes wrong, it probably will.
After a summer of using Tinder dates to meet travel, I’ve learned some valuable lessons.
You must write with the leader
In August, the French go on vacation to the French Riviera, leaving Reims free to explore. On Tinder, I quickly met a chef who shared my passion for champagne and cheese. He invited me to his house for pie, rolls and wine. On the kitchen table was a jar of cancolotta, gou, meton cheese, which he said was delicious.
“It’s like the inside of Camembert, but it doesn’t smell like feet,” she said before eating. He immediately melted.
The talks were informative and included food, sex and travel. I learned more about the Champagne of the region. The chef and I went on several dates, including a farewell ramen dinner at Genki; There, everyone rolled their eyes and started eating pumpkins.
He took me to the station and kissed me. This is where I was able to use Tinder differently.
At the end of my marriage, I went to a honeymoon hotel in tears.
A good cruise can save a bad day
He fired Tinder again on the way to Paris. My appointment wasn’t very exciting, but I wanted to get out of the city, so I took the RER to Seo. In the evening we walked around So Castle. “It’s like a mini Versailles without the crowd,” he said.
A cheese dinner will follow on the patio. Fresh buffalo mozzarella and tomato salad, followed by tomato, bleu brie de mois and a main course of various cheeses. I should have gone as there was no connection after dinner but it was late and I had no backup plan. My girlfriend tried to suck my face when I tried to partake of the cleansing melon sorbet and I snuck out the next morning to avoid an awkward greeting.
On the plus side, the croissant I had at Patisserie Colbert Frédéric Comin remains one of the 3 croissants in Paris (I ordered the second one with grass). Their secret ingredient: chestnut honey. As the croissant fueled my desire to cook, I immediately opened Tinder at home on the RER to start moving again. I became addicted to “dating”, always asking “what’s next?” I ask. I think.
Your date can be a great guide.
In San Sebastián, the Basque offered a personal tour that was difficult to pass even from the dangerous situation of getting into a car with a stranger.
“After our meeting, if you’re comfortable, I’d like to take you to a local bar a few minutes away for sunset,” he said on FaceTime.
If I’m drinking and chatting after an hour in a really crowded bar, I can call for help and we both feel better.
©Jane Rice/Jane Rice Walking at sunset A Trenha cow is seen in the Basque countryside.
Sunset took me to the Basque countryside for a 360-degree view of the coast and the Terena cattle, an endangered toy breed. At Txapela Taberna, a simple roadside bar, we had a glass of Txacoli for less than 2 euros per glass. I would never have found this place, let alone stayed, and it was one of the best nights of my life.
We stopped for “fresh red wine” at Orio Barra, a beach bar in a quaint fishing village just off the Camino del Norte. The evening ended in San Sebastian, where we ate at the famous Juancho Taberna Bocadillo.
Later he joined his brother and his friends in the streets of the old town and in the heavy metal bar Minuto Medio Bar. It was wonderful.
The guy is a loser but the script is good.
In Dubrovnik I escaped the hustle and bustle of the old town and took advantage of the beautiful scenery. I asked him to walk before our visit, where I mentioned some Game of Thrones to break the ice.
He stopped several times on the way to Zaton Bay to answer business calls. I was so sick of the beautiful sunset. While he was running, I got a bottle of natural wine from the Dalmatian winery Kota Vina. Turn your eyes away.
I should have done it myself but the car rental was crazy and the mountain road was narrow and winding so this was a new discovery.
© Jane Rice / Jane Rice Zaton, Croatia Sunset with a bottle of Kota Vina, a sweet and refreshing wine from the Dalmatian coast.
Say yes to the roof bar
On his way to Paris, the French Arab invited us to drink on his balcony. Thinking fast, I told him I wasn’t on the roof. He assured me it was a coincidence.
I arrived late at Perchoir Menilmontant in Oberkampf. “The elevator isn’t working, so we have to go up to the seventh floor.” I was already sweating profusely when I arrived.
A cuba libre, a bottle of rosé and much conversation later it was midnight.
“I can take you home on my scooter,” she said.
He put his helmet on my head and wrapped his arms around my waist and passed through the city of light. It was like a movie.
