What Happens After the Conference Ends? Stories from the Table, Not the Podium

It was lunchtime and participants had gathered outside the National University Hall to collect their food. The organisers wanted people to form two separate lines to distribute the meals comfortably.

“Are you ‘Regular’ or Vegetarian?” someone asked. For a moment, I was a bit shocked. But then I realised that meat-eating people and vegetarians were being separated. I thought about how culture changes across borders. In India, we use the term “non-vegetarian” for meat-eaters, which isn’t quite correct—and often, it’s used in a way that makes eating meat seem like a crime.

When you travel outside the country, you see how culture changes at every corner. What might be considered unholy in one place could be perfectly normal elsewhere. It’s important to respect food and cultural diversity. Those who can’t honour such diversity often remain confined to their ghettoes, locked in their ignorance and arrogance. They remain unfit even to travel. If you’re still looking for your “home food” after travelling such a long distance, then you’re missing out on the cultural richness of the world—most of which stems from its diverse food traditions.

A few years back, when I attended a conference organised by the Asia Land Forum in Kyrgyzstan, we had a pleasant vodka party during lunch. It was part of a tour of a nomadic community in a forest area. We had fish and other delicacies, accompanied by several shots of vodka. After some time, a friend came to me and said that some villagers wanted to celebrate with me. I went to the other side where a couple of them were sitting.

“Vidya, we are happy you’re here. Let us celebrate,” they said.

I replied, “Friend, I’ve already celebrated—I don’t think I can go any further.”

“No, we’re not offering you more vodka,” he said.

Relieved, I told them I was already full and feeling sleepy, given the bright sun and chilly weather. But he insisted, “You must try this.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“This is our favourite product—it’s the milk of a mare (a female horse).”

I was shocked. Not because it was horse’s milk—I don’t have a problem consuming what humans traditionally consume—but because of an old belief I grew up with: one should never consume any milky product after eating fish. I told them this, explaining that in India, this combination is strictly avoided.

They laughed and said it was a normal part of their food habit.

On the last day of the Global Land Forum in Bogotá, Colombia, our friend from Montenegro—activist and journalist Milan Sekulović, who campaigns to protect the beautiful Sinjajevina forests—offered a unique celebration to mark our togetherness.

The programme was scheduled to start around 9 am, and Milan had set up a table at the auditorium’s entrance with chocolates, toffees, and two bottles of wine. We weren’t sure what was happening until he began pouring the wine into shot glasses. I was surprised—why so early? But then I understood it was taken in the form of shots, much like tequila.

I don’t hesitate to try new things, so I joined in. It was thrilling. We Pahadis can take it all—whether hard or soft.

Milan explained that this is a tradition in Montenegro and across the Balkans: such drinks are consumed during celebrations, regardless of the hour. The brandy he served was Takovo Šljivovica, a Serbian plum brandy, typically taken with nuts or chocolate. You don’t mix it with water or soda—it’s consumed like tequila shots, even in the morning, often as a medicinal drink to warm up the body. Alcohol as medicine is part of hill culture.

Another product he introduced was Meduška, a honey brandy from Montenegro. I loved Milan’s thoughtful and surprising gesture. Even after travelling to so many countries over the past thirty-five years, I still feel the urge to learn and taste the world’s foods and wines. I may not remember every name, but I cherish being with native and indigenous communities, sharing in their celebrations.

At the Amazonian village of Agua Bonita, I was moved by the way the indigenous people conducted the programme. Elders are shown great respect, and all events and ceremonies are inaugurated by them. They bless you and pray for your well-being. Water and fire hold deep significance in their lives—just like in many of our own ancestral traditions.

Elders sprinkled water over us using native plants. The best food I ate there was grilled fish, served with rice and a lemon-onion mix. The dish was called Plato Mojarra Roja Pescado de Lago, plátano, arroz y ensalada roja—made with Mojarra, a red fish found in the Amazonian lakes and rivers, especially Orteguaza and San Pedro. The flesh was firm, flavorful, and a staple of Caquetá’s Amazonian diet. It was absolutely delicious.

Interestingly, none of the dishes served to us by the indigenous community were cooked in oil, yet they were incredible. Every evening, a new dish was prepared—nothing was repeated. It reminded me of the Tandoori Queen Fish I had in Kumarakom, Kerala. No doubt, Kerala excels in its culinary traditions.

Other foods in the Amazon region included preparations made with local maize, corn, bananas, cucumbers, and meats like pork, beef, fish, and chicken. Coffee is one of their most famous products, along with honey. I also enjoyed dishes like Carne a la Plancha con Arroz Mixto y Ensalada Blanca (grilled pork with a cabbage-onion salad), and Omelet con Huevo y Salchicha, Arepa y Papaya (omelet with sausage and papaya). I loved every dish because they were new and exciting for me. The key is to embrace new experiences.

We cannot understand others’ cultures if we are prejudiced about their food habits. One elder told us to chew something like tobacco and drink alcohol to please nature—it was fascinating to hear.

Agua Bonita, though a small village, has a bar and a football ground. It was amazing to see girls playing football—not because it’s rare, but because it’s remarkable to see such freedom in such a remote area. The bar functions like a normal restaurant where both men and women drink and dance together. I saw elders seated at tables while young women from the community took care of them. Unlike many places in our region, where such spaces are male-dominated, here it was a shared cultural space. Colombians dance beautifully, though people like us often feel awkward because we can’t dance as well!

This is why I say: life is diverse. Please don’t look down on people who don’t “fit” into your cultural boxes. The world is beautiful because of its diversity. Nobody should impose their cultural beliefs on others. The best cultural belief is one that embraces and appreciates all others—even if you don’t eat or drink everything offered. You don’t have to change yourself, but don’t be offended by others enjoying their traditions.

If we want to take our home everywhere we travel, then there’s no point in travelling at all. Travel isn’t about selfies or Instagram posts. It is about deeply understanding communities and societies. Nothing is more important than learning to understand others—without mocking their food habits, even if you don’t share their tastes.

One more important learning: many times, the best takeaways from these global gatherings come not during formal conference sessions, but from the informal conversations and field visits beyond “business hours”. These moments offer deep insights into communities that no seminar can replicate.

So thank you to the International Land Coalition and the local organisers in Colombia for giving us the opportunity to visit this beautiful place and for enriching our understanding.