about me

I’m a full-time eater traveling my way around the world, also known as Vivian.

Throughout 60 countries in this 27-year-old lifetime, I’ve remembered my days by what I’ve eaten.

From the age of seven I have journaled my way through a shelf of travel notebooks. As romantic as this sounds, an actual peruse of the pages would reveal the invariable inclusion of lists detailing what food was consumed on which day (and often little else of substance).

The world’s tastiest and freshest dishes have consistently proven to also be the cheapest. By choosing the busiest street stalls and the right time of day, I have dived into Burmese adaptations of Chinese doufu nao, roadside Vietnamese bun cha, North Peruvian cabrito con frijoles, Rajasthani dal baati churma, Turkish kazandibi, Chilean empanadas de pino—meals that I couldn’t possibly dream up.

In recent years the backpacker blogging world has become bland and saturated. I often wonder if I’m the only one who noticed. The content repetitively urges readers to take Awesome Adventures sleeper bus to Beer Pong hostel and book Waterfall and Sunset Point tour.

The more I cringe, the more I find myself depicting destinations through their endemic food cultures.

Seven years ago I started this blog as Vivian Alive. Introspection and itineraries. I converted my old About page into its own post as a souvenir: About Vivian Alive.

More on my story, my food, and a lifetime of travels is detailed in A Brief History of Vivian Chasing Calories.

My current trip has lasted 58 months to date.

I am tired, annoyed, bored, of calorie culture. Skipping meals. Fearing fat.

Eating is a true joy of life on this planet. Ignoring this is ignoring truth. Our brief stay here is better spent celebrating and exploring the grand diversity of recipes that have evolved over thousands of years.

I don’t cut calories, I chase them.

Not franchised fluff that went viral thanks to an overly eager, physically unwell host stuffing their face on film. Not bloopers staying afloat through Google reviews from people who misspell what they’re eating.

I don’t cross oceans for such illusions.

Chasing calories is about those hitchhikes and 30-hour train ordeals in search of food that is food.

Food that embodies culture. Wholesome living. Human history. Authenticity. Ingredients sourced from a recipe’s heartland. Meals on leaves. Beverages in clay.

Grannies making sheep-head couscous and Indian wedding tents of Himachali dham and desert hideouts of construction workers huddled around a cauldron of chicken, potatoes, and peas.

Hands that peeled every last garlic clove. Forearms that manually churned the breakfast chocolate into a froth.

Food so flavorful that the mind stops whirring and the chaos of the external world disappears. Food that brings us into union with our plates.

Food that makes our eyes shut and hearts smile.