The Cruise That Brought 43,000 Quarts of Fruit to the Tropics
In 1909, a ship set off around the world carrying four train carloads of California oranges, four of grapefruit, one of lemons, two of apples, another of pears and grapes, and 43,000 quarts of tinned fruit.
Its itinerary included Hawai‘i and the Dutch East Indies. Places quite capable of growing their own fruit.
This was the travel equivalent of going to Italy with a suitcase full of canned spaghetti because you’re worried about what the Italians might do to pasta.
Historian Daniel E. Bender tells the story in The Food Adventurers. A passenger on that ship, Paul Junkin, was fascinated by the astonishing number of tropical fruits he encountered. He made a long list of their names. But when it came to eating locally, he was cautious. His ship had carried a floating pantry of familiar food halfway around the planet to make sure he didn’t have to.
I understand him more than I want to. A strange menu at the end of a long, hot day can make anybody want toast. Comfort is useful. The trouble begins when comfort becomes a sealed container you never step out of.
The odd history behind the “authentic” meal.
Bender describes early around-the-world cruises that visited port after port while serving food designed to reassure European and North American passengers. Travellers could see unfamiliar places all day and return to the ship for the taste of home at dinner.
Those journeys happened within a colonial travel system, and the choices weren’t simply a matter of timid tourists. Hotels, ships, staff, and menus had been arranged around whose comfort counted. That history is worth knowing before we congratulate ourselves for ordering the most unusual thing on a menu.
Today it’s easier to eat a local dish, but it’s also easier to collect experiences like stamps: market, photograph, recommended restaurant, next stop. You can taste something and still learn almost nothing about it.
So here’s a more interesting travel challenge than “be adventurous”: follow one thing you eat backward.
- Ask what the dish is called locally and when people tend to eat it.
- Find out which ingredient makes it taste different from the version you know at home.
- If someone is happy to explain, ask where they would go for it. Then listen before reaching for your phone.
You may end up with a wonderful meal. You may end up with a story about a grandmother, a harvest, or a recipe everybody in the family argues about. You may discover that the dish sold as “traditional” to tourists is hardly what anyone eats on a Tuesday.
No one has to eat anything that conflicts with their health, beliefs, or appetite to be a good traveller. Curiosity can begin with a question. It can also begin by sitting somewhere long enough to notice who actually comes in for lunch.
Bring one familiar thing. Leave room for a surprise.
Pack the tea you love. Order toast when you need toast. But give the place a chance to interrupt your habits once in a while.
The people you travel with can help. One person spots a tiny bakery. Another asks a question you wouldn’t have thought to ask. Someone orders the mystery item, and suddenly the whole table has an opinion. This is one of my favourite things about travelling with a small group: you can borrow each other’s curiosity without having to borrow anyone’s courage all day.
A century later, I hope none of us is still hauling 43,000 quarts of metaphorical tinned fruit around the world. That luggage is heavy.
Playful Coconuts brings adults over 40 together for small-group trips, with time to explore and people to swap stories with afterward.
