One of my favorite things about traveling the world is the similarity. I know that’s kind of the antithesis of why people travel, but deeply ingrained in the human experience are certain truths and universal needs. Love always comes to mind, but food, culture, and identity also top my list. I think that’s one of the reasons I love visiting “China Town” in every city one where is located. You can always count on a vibrant mishmash of traditional food stalls; raw meats and fish, recently bloodied; glass jars stacked high with eastern medicinal herbs; crinkly clear bags of dried mushrooms, herbs, tea leaves, and fruits; and an assault of smells and sounds that seem unique to those neighborhood blocks. It’s an enduring patchwork of what the original immigrants brought with them and I always marvel that I can get the same delightful warm pork bao in Bangkok, San Francisco, or Ho Chi Minh.
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