A few weeks ago, I was speaking with a college student I know. This student has dreams of being a diplomat, which, in her 18-year-old mind, means traveling to unfamiliar territory, seeing the world, meeting people. I told this young woman, that, as a vegetarian, she quite simply must learn to drink. In traveling a world still largely un-vegetarian-friendly, getting shitfaced with strangers is part of one’s ambassadorial duties. To those who will tell her that she needs to sacrifice her vegetarian principles to better her diplomacy, I say nonsense — the world is much smaller now than it used to be and more cosmopolitan to boot. Renouncing one’s ethics in the name of anachronism is no way to promote cross-cultural dialogue. Cultivating a taste for booze though, is a skill both functional and neighborly, along with other self-disarmaments like bumbling around an unfamiliar language and properly using an uncharted toilet. “Perhaps travel cannot prevent bigotry,” Maya Angelou once said, “but by demonstrating that all peoples cry, laugh, eat, worry, and die, it can introduce the idea that if we try and understand each other, we may even become friends.” Agreed. And, might I add: cry, laugh, eat, worry, die, and consume alcoholic beverages.
We are all diplomats of a kind when we travel. To those travelers who don’t eat meat, an abbreviated guide to international drinking.
Vietnam
I am vegetarian: Toi an chay
Cheers!: Chúc sức khoẻ!
Requesting vegetarian in Vietnam is not so shameful if you manage to convince people you’re Buddhist. The problem is, the fake meat restaurants cater to fairly bourgeois tastes and they’re as likely to be frequented by backpackers as monks. Yet bars are plentiful. Vietnamese rice wine is pretty strong but with a lovely mellow flavor. Down around Cu Chi I picked up some that came in an old plastic water bottle, probably direct from someone’s bathtub. Lightweights are in luck — Vietnamese beer is mild and plentiful. Bia hơi is the local moonshine version; Tiger and 333 (pronounced “ba ba ba”) are your most ubiquitous choices.
Poland
I am vegetarian: Jestem wegetarianinem (male)/ wegetarianka (female)
Cheers!: Na zdrowie!
On a recent jaunt to Poland, my husband and I found great pleasure in making fun of the Lonely Planet guidebook for its often overcautious advice. We scoffed in particular at the warning against trying to out-drink a Pole. As a lifelong vegetarian and committed vodka enthusiast, I was determined to order my favorite Żubrówka — a bison grass-infused vodka — straight, and anywhere I could. My bravery came to a standstill though when, in an attempt to escape a fluorescent-pink cold meat platter, I engaged in a daylong binge with my husband’s long-lost Polish relatives. Sitting in front of the Christmas tree, I slugged bottle after bottle of hard Polish vodka to prove I wasn’t just some pansy, carrot-eating Shebrew, only to wake up on the floor wearing strange yellow pajamas and smelling like last year’s landfill.
But if you go to the right bars, men and women alike can get away with mirroring the young Pole’s love of the girly cocktail (Żubrówka and apple juice, for instance) and mulled wine beverage. The barbacks at a certain nightclub in Łódź looked more like dessert chefs, surrounded by jars of condiments, creams, syrups, and fruits. You might even get away with mulled beer if you ask for it in Polish (grzaniec z piwa).
Cuba
I am vegetarian: Yo soy vegetariano/a
Cheers!: ¡Salud!
It’s a platitude, I know, but Cuban rum is really good, especially if you’re an unfortunate American resigned to a lifetime of Bacardi. Rum is also easy on the uninitiated and easy to pronounce in Spanish. Even for carnivores, there’s little else edible in Cuban cuisine at the moment, so drinking is the only way to keep any meat on your backside. I recommend downing a bottle in the backseat of a rental while your friends try to navigate the country’s single highway.
Denmark
I am vegetarian: Jeg er vegetar
Cheers!: Skål!
A certain portion of the Danish population is made up of tall drunkards, so watch yourself when you drink under them. The price of spirits are ridiculously high in Denmark and don’t feel bad if you can’t consume quite as much beer as a Dane due to lack of body mass. A few shots of Akvavit and you’ll sail through the evening like a Viking ship and maybe go a little blind as well. The saucy Queen Margrethe II (yes, there are still so many European queens…), a famous chainsmoker and a painter to boot, most certainly engages in the national pastime. After all, the life of a queen is to entertain. You wouldn’t want to insult the Queen, would you?
Hungary
I am vegetarian: Vegetáriánus vagyok
Cheers!: Egészségedre!
A friend and I developed the phrase “meat smoothy” to describe the creamy flesh platters that make up Hungarian cuisine. Yet Hungarians, in my experience, will gladly accept alcohol as a substitute for meat-eating so long as the drinking goes late into the evening. You can get the same pilsner-type beers on offer up and down Central Europe, but the real treat is pálinka, one of the finest spirits around. You should acquire a taste for it quickly in Hungary because it will be provided frequently as an aperitif at meetings; saunas; conversations about ’56; and very, very early breakfasts.
Stefany Anne Golberg is an artist, writer, musician, and professional dilettante. She's a founding member of the art collective Flux Factory and lives in New York City. She can be reached at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it .
Article photograph by Smcgee via Flickr (Creative Commons); “Veg-o-matic” photograph by Eric Tucker/Getty Images; "Plate" photograph from FoodCollection/Getty Images
