When I departed for my Central Europe Passport, I expected to see incredible architecture, explore four new countries, and learn about Jewish history. What I did not expect was to develop such strong opinions about pierogies, European sushi, and the quality of Chabad dinners. 

Long before I signed up for the trip, everyone talked about the free time, or pizur, that was offered. My friends explained how I’d be able to freely explore the cities and try whatever food I wanted. Germany, unfortunately, was not quite what I had pictured. 

During our time in Germany, a heatwave pushed temperatures to around 105°F (or 41° C), and our hotel had absolutely no air conditioning. We had two dinners at a Chabad down the street, and let's just say neither was a highlight. Of course, we appreciated the meals and the people serving us were lovely, but the dinners weren't exactly what I had imagined when I pictured “Euro summer”. To make matters worse, none of us knew each other yet, so we spent our evenings trying to make conversation while sitting through meals that felt so much longer than they truly were. At that point, the hotel breakfasts were a reliable highlight of the day.

Thankfully, things started looking up when we arrived in Prague. The city was absolutely beautiful, but after days of sweating through the German heat, the air conditioning in our hotel was probably the best part. We turned the thermostat down so low that I'm surprised it survived. Prague also gave us our first real chance to explore on our own. During pizur, I tried a chimney cake, or trdelník, a sweet pastry cooked around a cylinder and coated in sugar and cinnamon. Mine was filled with ice cream and topped with chocolate syrup and strawberries. It was a solid 7/10. I also discovered that Prague had plenty of sushi options, which quickly became another part of my unofficial food tour. Meanwhile, hotel breakfasts continued to impress me. Compared with the questionable eggs, floppy sausage, and sad fruit I associated with American hotel breakfasts, the European spreads had fresh fruit, pastries, yogurt toppings, and enough options to make choosing breakfast an event of its own.

Poland brought a welcome change of scenery and some of my favorite food of the trip. In Zakopane, I tried pierogi, traditional dumplings filled with savory or sweet ingredients, and wandered through cobblestone streets with mountains rising in the distance. The town felt completely different from the cities we'd visited earlier, and exploring it was one of the highlights of our time in Poland. Dinner was memorable for another reason, too. By then, our group had become much closer. We spent the meal making inside jokes, reminiscing about the beginning of the trip, and sharing secrets we would never have told each other a few days earlier. I finally understood what people meant when they encouraged me to go on Passport. Some of the best moments happened in between the excursions, when we were simply sitting around a table together. I thought Poland had finally put my Chabad dinner struggles behind me. Unfortunately, our final meal had other plans.

For our last dinner in Warsaw, expectations were high. It was our final night together, and everyone was beginning to realize how soon we'd have to say goodbye. Instead of heading straight to a restaurant, we were dropped off in the pouring rain and sent down a series of winding streets. By the time we arrived, soaked and hungry, we quickly discovered that we were back at Chabad. This time, we were served what I can only describe as cheesy rice slop. I added so much salt that I pretty much turned dinner into a science experiment. When I want a good laugh, I often watch back the videos I have of the group's reaction as it was served. 

The meal itself was no better than our first dinners in Germany, in fact, I’d argue it was worse. However, the atmosphere around the table had completely changed. During those first few nights, we struggled to make conversation with people we had just met. Now, we were passing phones around, recording each other's reactions, and laughing at the fact that our final dinner had turned out exactly as we'd feared. Somehow, the same kind of meal that had once made dinner awkward had become the source of one of the most memorable nights.

Looking back, my European food tour included sweet pastries in Prague, pierogi in Poland, plenty of sushi, impressive hotel breakfasts, and two unforgettable encounters with inedible Chabad dinners. The meals weren't always what I expected, but they became part of the story of each place I visited. I arrived in Europe ready to try new foods and left with a camera roll full of questionable food, far too many inside jokes, and a much better understanding of why people kept telling me to go on Passport. I still can’t explain what made that final dinner so funny, but I can say with total confidence that I will never look at rice the same way again.