Travel is good on so many levels. The freedom to try something for the first time. An Italian restaurant in The Hague sometime in the early '80s, I become personally engaged with a stuffed artichoke. Ever since, artichokes are an intimate part of my life. Though infrequently stuffed. Plain, boiled and each leaf raked through teeth. Sublime & vegetal. Fodder for poems, too.
First poem? e.e. cummings "If there are any heavens…."