But the idea the title is intended to get across is the point. Is there a law which says if we want to be considered discerning travellers we should only eat what is considered ‘local food’ whenever we visit a destination?

Absolutely not.

Take Britain. What is local food there anyway? Steak and kidney pie? Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding? Fish and chips? Haggis, neeps and tatties? Beef rogan josh with basmati rice? Chicken chow mien?

If visitors to the UK want to eat like a local, it could involve any of that lot. If a tourist was getting their gob around a tandoori in Rusholme, Manchester, they’d be eating like a local. Britain is one of those European countries where even smallish towns have restaurants influenced by gastronomy from other parts of the world.

World cuisines becoming staples of a nation’s eating pattern is just one reason why eating in restaurants serving food which doesn’t originally have its roots in that country is still eating like a local. Although, I’ve seen suggestions that traditional British nosh is so bad it needs to be propped up by food from other countries.

Balderdash. Having a diverse gastronomic melting point is a sign of a multicultural society. And that also means a richly varied restaurant scene.

Which brings me neatly to another reason why we regularly sneak in the odd burger and pizza when we find ourselves in different pastures, even though a big part of travel is trying food that is new to us.

Diversity.

In some destinations the menu from one traditional restaurant to another can be interchangeable. Sometimes there may be enough variation on that menu to allow foodies to try something different day after day for a fortnight or more, e.g. Italy, France and the likes of Croatia where a blend of Northern European and Mediterranean influences tends to keep menus interesting. Sometimes that boils down to regions within a country. Costa Brava’s slightly bonkers cuisine continually surprises and delights, yet in other parts we can get bored after a few days. In Spain’s case that’s because we live in Spanish territory, so often traditional menus don’t offer anything particularly new for us. For that reason, in Madrid one night we committed the crime of eschewing the tapas bars around Plaza Santa Ana in favour of a Thai restaurant.

After two weeks of hiking around Bavaria, enjoying hearty German fare nightly, we were more than ready to swap knödels for beefy Bavarian burgers with our frothy bier in Berchtesgaden. In the first few days in Bavaria, even though we’d hiked 20km each day, we put on weight.

Similarly in Corsica, having gorged on filling cheesy beignets and savoury wild boar stews to a point where we were dangerous close to exploding, the occasional pizza or burger acted as a pressure valve.

Then there are places where restaurant menus hardly have enough diversity to offer different choices over the space of a few days let alone longer. We reached being tangined-out very quickly in Marrakesh. Restaurant menus in small towns in Chile’s Aysén region tended to be limited. In both these places there were some excellent and diverse dishes to be savoured, but mainly in the form of home-cooking in riads in Marrakesh and stylish rural lodges in Chile.

Ultimately I’d argue that if food is a major part of a travel experience, you wouldn’t be happy with eating the same thing, or a variation of, night after night for the duration of any visit. Plus, locals eat burgers and pizzas so technically, as long it’s in a restaurant favoured by the resident population, it’s still eating like a local.

Actually, I have eaten burgers in France – a huge, appropriately named Pyrenean burger served with a bucket of French fries in Limoux. It was the only thing left on the menu as they were about to shut… at around 9pm (the downside to dining in France). It was delicious.

Jack is co-editor, writer and photographer for BuzzTrips and the Real Tenerife series of travel websites as well as a contributor to online travel sites and travel magazines. Follow Jack on Google+

Day 4: Terraces and tiny hamlets
We wake to the aroma from grogue stills and sound of children’s laughter as they pass on the way to school. Hetty picks us up in a mini bus with a driver who supports Liverpool FC. We like him despite this. Our route starts on the coast beside a pig farm. A large stone bench seems ideal for sorting ourselves out before setting off, until Hetty tells us it’s where coffins are laid before being carried to a church on the mountain top above us.

Climbing through narrow terraces and along narrow rocky paths, Hetty regales us with tales of her granny, a wonderfully determined woman. Our routes aren’t particularly long, but the Cape Verde heat means we take things slowly. We cross ravine after ravine, passing stone huts, coffee beans drying in the sunshine and dragon trees. A small boy joins us for a section, eyeing us with curiosity but speaking not one word. Lunch is another of Hetty’s delicious homemade affairs, served in a shaded copse where a girl from a nearby hamlet brings a flask of strong, black coffee.

Our day ends with a visit to Hetty’s house where we’re introduced to her husband and an army of cats and kittens. We sit, chatting, on tree trunk seats beside a chunky table in an outdoor covered terrace where Hetty dishes up stews cooked in a huge pot resting on two rectangular stones.

Day 5: A new guide and smart donkeys
Another day brings a new guide, Nicolai, the first male guide we’ve had. It’s a 15 minute trek to the road where we get picked up. Female porters carry our cases on their heads, a throwback to another era. Nicolai is late, giving me the chance to have a nosy around a grogue still beside the road. One man works the still, he smiles as I enter, unconcerned by my presence, and pours a caramel-coloured liquid into a plastic barrel atop a stone oven. This, and a dozen other like it, is where the aroma of the valley comes from.

An apologetic Nicolai finally arrives and we travel by minibus along cobbled main roads to climb to the top of Santo Antao where we begin our descent to the Pedracin Village, our next hotel. The path starts beside a watering hole where men fill up containers harnessed to teams of mules. Some don’t have any humans leading them. They head up to the watering hole, have their containers filled and toddle back home all on their own.

We head along sandy paths skirting gentle mounds where the red earth is broken by pine trees and lone stone huts with thatched roofs. Some women invite us to stop and watch them pound grain. I ask Nicolai if I should give people a few coins in situations like this. The suggestion shocks him. When people invite you into their homes on Santo Antao it is out of friendliness, nothing more.

Nicolai laughs a lot. He has a more frivolous manner than our female guides but is equally informative in his own way. He points out agave at the entrance to houses, placed to ward off evil spirits. We stop to help an old man who’s trying to load a mountain of branches on to his back whilst his mule remains just out of range. The man insists it’s not a heavy load, but when Nicolai tries to lift it himself his knees buckle, causing him to collapse in heaps of laughter.

Eventually our path descends to a scattered collection of huts where we have lunch and drink mint tea at a house belonging to a relative of Nicolai. A little boy wears a CD Tenerife shirt. I guess it shouldn’t be a surprise given the two archipelagos aren’t that far from each other, but it is.

By late afternoon we reach Pedracin Village, which occupies another super spot. We like it immediately, it oozes Cape Verdean hospitality. We’re welcomed with fresh orange juice and a couple of grogues before we order a couple of Super Bocks and settle into seats on a terrace overlooking the luscious valley. Unfortunately the sun has just left the small swimming pool beside the terrace otherwise we’d celebrate our arrival with a cooling dip.

Rooms are in small cottages and are quite basic but comfortable. Dinner is in an attractive wooden cabin styled dining room and consists of bowls of fish, meat and vegetables. It’s all very casual; a relaxing place to chill out after exploring the surrounding countryside.

Day 6: Coastal walking and a banquet lunch
We’re sorry to leave Pedracin Village after only one night. A couple of residents peacocks seem to enjoy flashing their rather sparse tail feathers at us whilst we wait for Nicolai to pick us up for a coastal route which skirts the base of cliffs and passes villages perched on the edge of ravines. It’s a very different route from our inland trails, as is lunch which is a veritable feast of a medley of fish, fruit and vegetable dishes in a nameless restaurant overlooking the sea. Without a guide, we’d never have found it.

We say goodbye to Nicolai at our final Santo Antao destination, Kolina d’Sol in Ponta do Sol. Ponta do Sol is unlike the other places we’ve stayed, there’s a feel it’s been developed for an audience that hasn’t quite materialised. The hotel is clean and comfortable with a nice rooftop dining area. It’s 300m from the older part of the town, which is typically colonial and a good place to grab a beer as the sun sets… which is exactly what we do. Ponta do Sol’s personality grows on us, there’s a good vibe to the place and dinner of fish and piri piri chicken listening to a lively group of local musicians serenading local girls is a deliciously fun way to end our time on Santo Antao.

Day 7: Three islands in a day
A savoury omelette whilst watching goats climb palm trees sets us up for the trip back to Sal via San Vicente. Travel timings mean we get to spend time in Mindelo again which is no hardship. We have coffee and cake in an eclectic little cafe which seems to worship Barack Obama and someone called Tchiss Lopes equally. We track down a music shop to buy a couple of CDs, including Cesária Évora, and I take a picture of a woman smoking a pipe, another feature of Mindelo. It’s easy to lose time in Mindelo, a place we’d like to get to know better.

Our flight back to Sal touches down after dark. We’re booked into the Hotel Morabeza, an attractive and stylish low-rise hotel behind the beach in the centre of Santa Maria. Even though it’s a small hotel it feels quite big compared to the homely places we’ve stayed elsewhere, but it’s actually nice to stay somewhere there’s space to be anonymous. Plus it’s got a decent restaurant and good bars. After hopping across three islands in the course of a day it’s exactly what we need to chill out before popping on the plane back home.

We didn’t know what to expect from Cape Verde. What we found had us hooked on the archipelago’s charms and made us hungry to explore other Cape Verde islands.

What we definitely didn’t find was the Cape Verde that dominates the online pages of Tripadvisor’s travel forum.

Jack is co-editor, writer and photographer for BuzzTrips and the Real Tenerife series of travel websites as well as a contributor to online travel sites and travel magazines. Follow Jack on Google+

Google the Tripadvisor forum for the islands and you’d be forgiven for thinking the archipelago consisted of only two islands, Sal and Boa Vista. Before we found out the reality for ourselves, the picture painted by most of the people we knew who’d visited was the islands were arid and there wasn’t much to see.

Seven nights spent exploring three islands with guides and accommodation arranged by Archipelago Choice revealed that many people who visit Cape Verde only ever get to see the purpose-built version.

Day 1: From Sal to Sao Vicente
An early flight from Gran Canaria with Binter Canarias gets us to Sal in time for a decent explore before we catch a late night hop of a flight to neighbouring Sao Vicente. After a taxi ride through a flat, uninspiring landscape, the town of Santa Maria is a pleasant surprise – colourful colonial architecture and oleander lined streets with interesting looking restaurants. The town’s beaches live up to their promise of being long golden beauties. There is a surprising lack of lobster-coloured tourists on the streets. It soon becomes apparent that many of the inmates of the huge complexes don’t stray too far from their hotels. For a resort town Santa Maria feels unusually authentic. We change cash at a bank where service comes with huge smiles and cool down with a beer at an upmarket version of a beach bar shack on the more touristy end of town.

After a dinner which reflected the influences which have shaped Cape Verde – a Portuguese francesinha and a tropical chicken curry – we’re picked up and taken to the airport for our flight to Sao Vicente. By the time we arrive at our boutique-type hotel in Mindelo it’s near midnight and only time for a quick beer before bedtime.

Day 2: Exploring Mindelo and walking on cobbles
Daylight reveals Kira’s is one of those little treasures of a small hotel – attractive boutique decór and family friendly staff, especially the lovely Isabel who runs it. Breakfast in a bijou courtyard involves our first meeting with the Cape Verde staple, cachupa, as well as bowls of fruit, chunky breads and local cheese.

After breakfast we meet our first guide, the smart and amiable Claudia whose grasp of politics and love of her homeland will surely see her involved in running her country at some point in her future. We chatter endlessly all the way from Sao Vicente’s highest peak to the coast, passing the occasional donkey and men bent double, hammering away at the square rocks that make up the cobbled path we walk on and which form most of the roads on the islands. The ruddy, rolling terrain is reminiscent of a blend of Lanzarote and Fuerteventura. By the time we reach white dunes and rows of multi-coloured fishing boats at the coast we’ve gained an insight into the Cape Verdean psyche thanks to Claudia’s anecdotes and honest depiction of life on the islands. Claudia’s boots, a present from a previous visitor, died en route and she ends the journey walking barefoot.

We spend the afternoon getting to know Mindelo, whose colonial past is ever present in the bright pastel facades and pretty balconies of many of the low buildings lining the streets. There’s a vibrancy in both appearance and personality which gives it a quasi Caribbean vibe. The Portuguese influence is unmissable; apart from Super Bock signs outside of bars, a mock Torre de Belém on the seafront screams out who once governed these islands.

Mindelo has a reputation for live music and sure enough we’re treated to hauntingly melancholic suadades courtesy of a talented young duo as we work our way through a seafood platter at Casa Mindelo. We were first enchanted by local legend Cesária Évora’s soulful voice in a hotel in Salzburg; it’s a treat to hear her most famous song ‘Sodade’ performed live in a Cape Verdean setting. The meal and music ends with an introduction to another Cape Verde classic, grogue, the local firewater.

Day 3: Island hopping and lost valleys
A short taxi ride drops us at the port where an army of rust buckets contrast attractively with luminescent turquoise water. The ferry to our next port of call, Santo Antao is comfortingly familiar as it’s exactly the same as some of the ferries which sail between the Canary Islands. In a way it feels no different from travelling between Tenerife and Gran Canaria. I think I was expecting free-roaming cattle and goats.

We’re met at Porto Novo by a new guide, the ebullient Hetty, another strong Cape Verdean woman with a huge personality. Initially Santo Antao looks only slightly less arid than Sao Vicente but as we climb higher to the spine of the island, more greenery appears and the mouth-opening moments start to pile up, beginning with an eclectic man-made forest of trees which don’t belong together.

After being deposited in the base of a volcanic crater whose fertile basin has been claimed by farmers, we climb to it’s rim where we’re gut-punched by views of an unexpected world, the Paul Valley. Between us and our hotel, Casa das Ilhas, lies stunning scenery, thatched huts, men hacking at cane, women selling fruit and a German hippy who runs an oasis of a restaurant which sells all manner of home-produced goodies ranging from cheese and pastries to grogue. We don’t eat there, instead we lunch on Hetty’s fabulous homemade cachupa and mini sweet doughnuts in a friend’s living room.

Hetty leaves us at Casa das Ilhas which, although the rooms are basic, boasts heart-soaring views down the valley, especially good when served with a beer. Dinner is dished up in a communal dining room where the evening’s entertainment is a praying mantis V gecko fight; far more interesting than many resort hotel fare.

Continued in 7 nights island hopping and walking in Cape Verde Part 2

Jack is co-editor, writer and photographer for BuzzTrips and the Real Tenerife series of travel websites as well as a contributor to online travel sites and travel magazines. Follow Jack on Google+

There’s no arguing the likes of Tenerife and neighbours Gran Canaria, Fuerteventura and Lanzarote are all decidedly on the beaten track destinations. But here’s the thing I’ve learned about people who stay ‘on the beaten track’. They don’t stray far from the well worn path at all… even in tourist hots spots.

Zoom in close on what that means and you find that even within any one resort in a popular holiday destination and people generally follow the same track as everyone else. We’re only animals in the end and many people find comfort in staying with the herd.

In the town we live there are the ‘main tourist drags’ – the route the majority of people follow to get from A to B. Take a step away from the crowd and head up a side street to walk along any of the streets running parallel to the main drag and it’s a different scene altogether, often it’s where the more interesting places are to be found.

It’s no different in popular beauty spots. The most visited location on Tenerife is Mount Teide. Thousands of excursionists, independent travellers and locals descend on Teide National Park every day. Most of them stick to the same routine. They stop at the Teleferico cable car to get as close to the summit of Mount Teide as possible without actually having to put a lot of effort into walking, and stray a few steps from coach/car to the viewpoint at the Roques de Garcia.

These are the sort of places which are dismissed by people who crave going off the beaten track. Yet anyone who avoids popular tourist attractions is overlooking one crucial piece of information. To go off the beaten track, even in a massively popular tourist destination, often all you have to do is walk a short distance away from the crowds.

Less than a minute’s walk along a dusty volcanic path and the masses are jettisoned. What’s more, the great bulk of the rest of Teide National Park is devoid of people.

It’s more or less the same everywhere.

It was bedlam where our coach deposited us at Great Wall of China, but after a 15 minute climb of a steep section of the wall, we were virtually alone. Generally people who are on excursions don’t stray far from their coaches.

It’s similar with popular cruise destinations. Dubrovnik is chaotic when the cruise passengers descend in their thousands. At least Dubrovnik old town is. The ‘main drag’ through the historic streets is a chaotic sea of people at peak times of the day. Dubrovnik outside the old town isn’t affected by this mass invasion. Even in the old town, the streets away from the established cruise route are often tranquil places to explore, especially if you time your visit to avoid the cruise invasion.

Carcassonne in Languedoc is another example. One of the most popular tourist attractions in France, the medieval citadel is an tourist magnet to the point we couldn’t wait to escape. But the old ‘new’ town which lies at the feet of the citadel is not without charm. It is, however, free of the coach excursionists who clog the arteries of the citadel.

Wandering through medinas/souks in places that are popular tourist destinations, such as Marrakech, can involve an incessant and exhausting assault of offers of ‘help’. Ducking into historic buildings like ancient palaces or old forts is to escape into a people-free oasis of calm.

Cinque Tierre on the Italian Riviera looks enchanting, but I have no desire to visit after seeing photos of lemmings in human form bloat the picturesque streets. And yet I’m sure the same thing applies there as in the places I’ve mentioned; move away from the established tourist and there will be a different scene.

Living on an island known for mass tourism has taught us it isn’t very difficult at all to escape the crowds.

Going off the beaten track in on the beaten track locations is also immensely satisfying. Popular mass tourism hot spots are the last places many people would look for unique travel experiences.

Jack is co-editor, writer and photographer for BuzzTrips and the Real Tenerife series of travel websites as well as a contributor to online travel sites and travel magazines. Follow Jack on Google+

Now we’re standing in the flat basin of a volcanic crater providing a couple of cows with their day’s entertainment. And it’s still quite early in the morning.

Hetty, our guide, indicates it’s time to set off. She speaks English with a distinctive Dutch twang. Although Cape Verdean, she spent much of her youth in the Netherlands, something that’s not that unusual amongst Cape Verdeans it seems.

As we climb a neat path leading us from the Cova de Paul crater floor to the ragged rim which forms an almost perfect circle around neat little fields I notice green peppers apparently growing wild beside the path. I mention them to Hetty.

“Oh, they were planted by the Portuguese,” she replies. “We don’t use them.”

It’s as though their Portuguese heritage has somehow tainted them.

Even though it’s early-ish morning the heat combined with the ascent brings on a sweat. It’s not a long ascent, but it gets the heart pumping… but nowhere near as much as the sight which unfolds as we reach the ridge.

Below us, way below us, is a deep, wide scar in the earth. Running through its centre is a lime green, fertile strip; a veritable oasis of agricultural activity which separates walls of hard, jagged peaks. The line of the Ribeira do Paul.

It feels like we’re overlooking a lost world. A fanciful notion of course, but there’s no shifting the sense of adventure from my imagination.

Linking our position with the green band is a snake of a path. It’s well maintained but a lot steeper than it looks from above. Any appreciation of the scenery requires lots of brief stops.

As we get closer to the valley floor, the green band takes on more definition. Spiky agave plants give way to stepped terraces of sugar cane and pockets of banana plants surrounding thatched huts.

Human life enters the fray as we draw level with a gang of men hacking away at fields of cane. Hetty shouts a greeting and they smile and wave as we pass.

Shortly afterwards we reach the welcome shade of some trees, the first shade we’ve enjoyed since our route began. A woman and a young girl sit on a stone wall, between them is a basket filled with juicy tomatoes and bags of beans, possibly coffee beans. Hetty talks to her for a moment before buying a couple of bags of something in solid, creamy chunks. She passes us one.
I pop an unidentified chunk into my mouth where it melts, sending its flavours on a wild dance across my tongue. I barely suppress a gasp of surprised pleasure. Its flavour is familiar, the heroin of the sweet world. I’ve no idea what its Cape Verdean name is, but I know it as tablet.

We continue descending on the neat path, passing trees and terraces which yield papaya,oranges, yams, avocado, peas and aubergine. Nature seems to be in a bountiful mood in this Garden of Eden of a valley.

Lunchtime coincides with our arrival at a small hamlet. A few men with dreads and Bob Marley tee-shirts lounge by the roadside, taking time out from work during the hottest part of the day. A woman shows us into a small, simply decorated living room where the three of us are left to enjoy a lip-smacking lunch of cachupa (the staple dish of Cape Verde) and mini doughnuts with coconut flakes. It beats the hell out of the ham and cheese baguettes you normally end up with in walking picnics.

From here our onward journey is by road, passing through small villages. At one point Nelson Mandela looks down sagely from his prominent position on the side of a house.

A blue sign with a crossed knife and fork looks quite incongruous as it’s attached to a telegraph pole which pierces the thatched roof of a large stone building. There’s no mistaking its message.

Bar O Curral belongs to German couple Alfred and Christine Mandl who have completely embraced the Cape Verdean way of life in the Paul Valley. Inside, long tables are laid out for a walking group. Hanging from a tree are bags of herbs and spices. Bottles of grogue (the local brandy made from sugar cane) fill wooden trays whilst wicker bowls brim with cheeses. All are home produced. Even though we’ve eaten, the aroma from the kitchen has us yearning to sit at one of the benches to enjoy the feast that awaits the walking group.

It’s a simple place and all the more alluring for it. Part of me wishes our journey would end here. I can imagine us settling down at one of the tables with a bottle of grogue to while away the afternoon gazing over the wonderful world Alfred and Christine have nurtured.

But it doesn’t, we have to move on. Almost immediately Hetty announces she’s bored with road walking and asks if we’d like a little adventure. We follow her off road where our path becomes a levada (irrigation channel) which cuts through the cane, taking us along one side of the valley. Hetty checks if we’re okay traversing a narrow water channel above the valley floor. We’re fine, we’re old hands at walking on goat trails in the Canary Islands. And anyway, it does feel more like an adventure again.

The levada drops us at the start of a cobbled path, the final leg of our journey to Casa das Ilhas where we’ll spend the next couple of nights. It’s a fifteen minute walk. No cars can travel this path, luggage arrives and departs on the heads of local porters.

We leave Hetty at the entrance to Casa das Ilhas, check in, grab a couple of beers from an honesty bar and plonk ourselves down on a couple of chairs on a small terrace outside our room. The accommodation is on the basic side, but the rural hotel does have one outstanding feature. Laid out in front of us is the rest of the Paul Valley, the aromatic smoke from tiny grogue distilleries hanging in the air above the lush landscape. It’s a glorious view.

This has been a good walk, one of the very best in fact.

Our walking routes, guides and accommodation in Cape Verde were arranged by Archipelago Choice.

Jack is co-editor, writer and photographer for BuzzTrips and the Real Tenerife series of travel websites as well as a contributor to online travel sites and travel magazines. Follow Jack on Google+

How does that sound?

That was us experiencing one destination, known for its ‘get away from it all’ charm, like locals.

One of the travel trends predicted for this year is an increase in people wanting to experience the destinations they visit like a local.

The sentiment is admirable; it’s about getting under the skin of a destination. Seeing something different, having local experiences that are personal rather than mass produced ones. It’s not a new idea by any means, but social media has made the concept of ‘going local’ more accessible than ever.

However, just as I would if I was browsing online for any holiday, I treat some ‘local’ experiences/advice on offer with caution. I don’t see travel advice on any social media platform as being any more valid than travel advice given on Tripadvisor. Some of it’s good, a lot of it’s not. It all depends on who’s doing the advising.

Similarly, any local experience depends very much on which ‘local’ you experience a place with. Hook up with a local vegan, teetotal, pilates teacher and you can bet the experience won’t be the same as if you’d hooked up with a local poker playing, whisky guzzling, indie rock musician.

When we travel we like to enjoy authentic local experiences, but I’m a pragmatist. I’m never going to have quite the same experience as a local for the simple reason I’m not one. I’m not really a local in the destination I’ve been living for the last decade, even though I specialise in writing about it. If I were to rough it with a Berber family in a mud house in the Atlas Mountains, the only person likely to be under the misguided impression I was anything other than a tourist would be me.

Like any other working people, we have limits as to how long we can be away. There’s no luxury of open ended rambling. Deadlines have to be met, projects completed.

However, we do want juicy authentic travel experiences when we touch down somewhere new. We crave experiences that are different from the norm, that delve beneath the surface to show us the true personality of a destination. To make sure we have them we use, or work with, reputable professionals just as we would with any business transaction we undertake.

In Cape Verde we travelled with specialist tour operator Archipelago Choice who use local guides and agents. The guides, all young Cape Verdean women and men, opened up a world we wouldn’t have otherwise seen. It was my idea of really experiencing aspects of local culture without being naïve enough to think I was in any way part of it.

We work a lot with Slow Travel specialists Inntravel. We love working with them because of their philosophy, we also like them on a personal level. What they produce is exactly the sort of holiday we’d have booked before our career change. One of the collaborations we have with Inntravel involves helping put together walking/cycling/discovery packages, so we regularly meet the people they work with in various destinations; small family run businesses which usually involve individuals who are immensely knowledgeable about the place they live and passionate about what they do. These people are keys to unlocking authentic experiences. It might be work, but it is wonderfully rewarding in terms of uniquely personal travel experiences.

If it’s a city we’re visiting, we often use Airbnb and book an apartment in the heart of wherever we want to be. Again we don’t kid ourselves we’re becoming locals by doing so, but it does feel like a way to experience the real city and not just the popular tourist side of it, which we will take in as well.

When we want a tip for a good local restaurant, we don’t ask any random local on social media for the same reason I treat travel sites like Tripadvisor with caution – I don’t know personal likes or whether the person giving advice is a fussy eater who thinks MacDonald’s is the place to go for local eats (I’ve actually seen that suggested on a travel blog). We ask someone who is interested in or involved with gastronomy. For this reason we are big fans of specialist food tours such as Eat the World whose guides, as well as introducing people to great local nosh, put the fascinating meat on the bones of whole neighbourhoods.

Basically, when it comes to ensuring an authentic local experience, we want it to be arranged by someone who has an all round knowledge of their destination; the culture, traditions, history and the food etc. There are plenty of individuals and ethical businesses of various sizes who offer this and who have done so for quite some time. Like I said before, it’s nothing new. The only thing that might be new is how some local experiences are being packaged, presented and sold to to a new audience hungry for authentic local experiences.

Going local in one way or another is an illuminating and rewarding way to experience destinations.

But research carefully before deciding who to ‘go local’ with, otherwise you might end up in a bar with some drunken brickie swinging a motorcycle chain around his head.

Jack is co-editor, writer and photographer for BuzzTrips and the Real Tenerife series of travel websites as well as a contributor to online travel sites and travel magazines. Follow Jack on Google+

We’re standing on the lip of the Cova crater looking down to the village of Paúl which lies in its floor. A cobbled path drops steeply from our feet and snakes its way down 1000 metres. It’s like looking out from an aircraft in flight and deciding to walk back down to earth.

This is not going to be a quick descent.

Winding gradually down, my feet often at right angles to the path to ease the pressure on my knees and hopefully stop me from slipping into oblivion, Hetty tells us the names of the flowers whose perfumed and colourful faces peek out from the rocky crevices in the wall as we drop further and further towards earth. Finally arriving, flush faced, sweaty and achy kneed into Paúl, Hetty leads the way to a rambling series of buildings on the side of a sloping terrace. On the road outside, a Rastafarian sits smoking a pipe in the shade.

“Nice dreads,” I say.
Hetty translates my greeting and I’m rewarded with a wide, gappy smile, an involuntary stroke of a dreadlock and a nod of the head.

We climb the stairs to the kitchen door where the Rastafarian’s wife appears, all smiles, hugs and kisses for Hetty and a welcome smile and shy ‘bom Dia‘ for us. She leads us to her living room and tells us to make ourselves comfortable while she goes to make the coffee. Reserved for special guests, the living room has a sofa and two armchairs, a coffee table, and an air of neglect. The family spend all their time in the kitchen, on the roof, or in the road outside.

Suddenly realising I’m ravenously hungry, I remove the lid of my Tupperware container and release the scent of its amazing contents, a savoury rice and beans dish containing fried manioc, peas, carrots and sausages, topped by a fried egg. I express concern that I may not be able to eat this amount of food and that’s when Hetty throws the empty bag analogy at me. Whether I was spurred on by her words or because I was so hungry or just because the dish was unbelievably good, who knows. Suffice to say, not a single grain of rice was left.

Hetty’s friend brought us fresh coffee and little cakes to round off our feast and we kicked back for another ten minutes or so in the cool and comfort of the ‘best room’ before getting back onto the trail.

The following day Hetty once again handed me two heavy Tupperwares filled to the brim with still hot food. Our journey took us from the coastal settlement of Sinagoga, climbing hard up to Clovoada and deep into the interior, toiling up steep ravines, threading our way carefully down vertiginous slopes and traversing a rocky ridge path that joined tiny settlements like dusty dot to dots. All the way, through the heat and the energy sapping terrain, I was sustained by the thought of that rice and beans lunch that was currently adding to the weight and heat of my rucksack.

Arriving in a verdant valley opposite a remote hamlet, we settled on some rocks in a small wooded area that gave us respite from the sun. Like a child opening her Christmas present, I opened the lid of my Tupperware only to find today’s dish was different. Instead of rice and beans, it was a colourful pasta salad. Initial disappointment soon turned to gastronomic joy as the first few forkfuls confirmed that this was indeed the tastiest pasta salad known to man, or woman. Onions, chillies, sweetcorn, sweet tomatoes, sliced savoury sausage and lip tingling seasoning gave the dish a taste and texture that defied the word ‘salad’. It was so good, I’d eaten it before I thought to photograph it – d’oh!

I asked Hetty if her cousin would be willing to share her recipes but she just laughed and assured me there was no recipe, the dishes were simply made up of whatever was in the house that day and her cousin rose before dawn to prepare it for us. As once again, the sound of fork scraping the last remnants of food from plastic container emanated from my knee, two children, the offspring of another of Hetty’s friends, appeared out of nowhere with a flask of freshly brewed, aromatic coffee.

When Hetty’s in charge, there are no empty bags on the trails of Santo Antao.

All our transfers, accommodation, guided walks and travel while in Cape Verde were arranged for us by Archipelago Choice, tailor made holidays to the Azores and Cape Verde.

Andrea (Andy) Montgomery is a freelance travel writer and co-owner of Buzz Trips and The Real Tenerife series of travel websites. Published in The Telegraph, The Independent, Wexas Traveller, Thomas Cook Travel Magazine, EasyJet Traveller Magazine, Wizz, you can read her latest content on Google+

On long walks, taking time out for lunch isn’t always practical and on these occasions we have to make do with a picnic. I love al fresco dining but if I never see another gum-shredding baguette filled with ham and cheese again, it’ll still be a day too soon. There must be a European wide rural hotel guidebook which states ‘if a guest asks for a picnic, it must include a ham and cheese baguette.’ Thankfully, there are exceptions to this rule.

These are some places where we’ve enjoyed some tasty lunches on the trail.

Tabernas on Symi

Hardly hardcore walking, but the trek up the Kali Strata from Symi Town on the Greek sland of Symi to head to one of the island’s many dream beaches can work up a sweat and a thirst. Greek tavernas remain my favourite establishments to while away the time drinking retsina and munching on mezes. The Greek heat, unbelievably turquoise sea, heady aroma of honeysuckle and wild herbs, creamy dips and sweet wine is an intoxicating mix (and not just because of the retsina). These aren’t lunches to be taken mid-walk. Thankfully you can catch a water taxi back to Symi Town.

Picnic in Provence

Sure there are plenty of quaint bistros serving food so good it can elicit involuntary moans of pleasure. But one of the best mid-walk lunches I’ve enjoyed was at a picnic table beside a stream near the moss covered ruins of the Prieuré de Carluc near Rellaine. It was a simple lunch consisting of chunky fresh bread and ripe Banon cheese, melted by the sun’s rays. Simple, but as sweet as the fresh spring water gurgling in the brook beside our table.

Konoba Lambik on Hvar

If an experience exceeded that of losing time in a Greek taverna it was an afternoon at Konoba Lambik on Hvar in Croatia. The walk to reach Konoba Lambik included wild flowers, olive groves, wild boar towers and English aristocracy. All juicy ingredients themselves, but the food and drink, all created, caught and distilled by the owners, erased memories of the walk and replaced them with an extra special experience. It was the first place I’d ever truly appreciated how good artichokes really were, thanks to a life-changing artichoke and broad bean stew.

On the road in the Atlas Mountains

En route to to Tachdirt in the High Atlas Mountains I lay in the sun on a hot wall beside a dusty track whilst our guides washed peppers and tomatoes in a mountain stream, which also provided the water to boil rice and make sweet mint tea. The salad they created was a mish mash of ingredients, including tinned sardines, olives, chopped pork, rice tomatoes, green pepper and red onion with some fresh bread. It tasted as good as any salad I’d eaten in a gourmet restaurant. That dash of al fresco seasoning just can’t be matched indoors.

Mountain Hütte in Salzkammergut, Austria

Austria and Germany’s hinterland is riddled with hüttes, perfectly positioned at some of the most scenic spots on mountain trails. Both countries are as good as anywhere we’ve been for being dependable when it comes to finding somewhere to have lunch mid-walk. The only problem is that many of the dishes on hütte menus are hefty affairs and lie too heavily on my stomach to be taken when there’s still a long way to go. Such was the case above Gosausee in Salzkammergut where, as everyone around us tucked into warming soups, we settled for belegte brote, a type of open-topped sandwich, with speck (cured ham) onions, gherkin and tomato. Another basic dish, but the accompanying views of the snow-capped Dachstein Mountains and a musically clanging cow bell soundtrack raised it way above the average mid-trail sandwich.

Lakeside Hütte in the Black Forest

Rarely have I been so pleased to see a lodge/hütte/taverna/pub as I was to see Vesperstube Unterkrummenhof on the banks of Schluchsee in the Black Forest. Despite having wind-proof gloves and a hat a bear would eye enviously, the icy sleet which stabbed at exposed skin for hours as we’d walked around the large lake had robbed all feeling from fingers, feet and legs. The hütte was warm and welcoming and, despite there being a third of the route still to complete, we pigged out on currywurst and chips. It did exactly what a good hütte/taverna/tasca should do – act as a sanctuary for cold and hungry travellers

Lunch in a Cave in the Canary Islands

One of my favourite walks anywhere is in the Anaga Mountains on Tenerife, a place which is the antithesis of what many people think of when the imagine Tenerife. The route to the cave village of Chinamada is uplifting – ancient laurisilva forest, hamlets and narrow agricultural terraces clinging to hillsides, jagged peaks, tiny hamlets, goats, the odd hen and killer views. The cave village lies halfway along a circular route so perfectly placed for lunch in La Cueva. Ironically, most people choose to eat outside the cave part. The food is basic Canarian with the signature dish being a messy splodge called escaldón (basically stock mixed with gofio flour). I love it because it is the real Tenerife.

Ham and Cheese Overlooking Lake Iseo

Everything tastes fabulous around the Italian Lakes. I can’t recall one mediocre meal. However, we didn’t always meet with success finding places to eat along the trails we walked. On one route we planned to eat in a bar/restaurant halfway along the route. It was shut… for lunch. On the largest lake island in Europe, Monte Isola on Lake Iseo, we were introduced to a classic Italian snack in a nondescript café with a sunny terrace overlooking this most dazzling of lakes; the piadina – basically a flat bread sandwich. I only ordered it because I saw another luncher eating something that perked my interest. They only did one type filling, ham and cheese. I loved it.

Trust the Italians to make even a ham and cheese sandwich seem gastronomically interesting.

Jack is co-editor, writer and photographer for BuzzTrips and the Real Tenerife series of travel websites as well as a contributor to online travel sites and travel magazines. Follow Jack on Google+