Vacation Weight

Nothing makes me more aware of my gluten intolerance than traveling. Before it was always, “I’ll pick something up along the way.” In fact, it was part of the fun to try something local. Now, it’s “I’ll pack any food I can think of that will get through airport security.” Once, my bags were weighed down by books, maps, sunscreen, lipgloss and a camera. Now my shoulder aches from carrying around gluten free granola bars, nuts, dried fruit and computer print-outs of restaurants’ menus that offer at least one thing I can safely eat. I had given my GlutenFreed app a test drive in Las Vegas but the options were limited and I was able to find several closer locations through Yelp.
Eating safely is a high priority. Just one bad fry (as I sadly found out) can ruin your plans for that evening. And when you can’t afford to waste a night of your two states in seven days trip it can be the saddest and most stressful thing that can happen... outside of losing your luggage or perhaps not being able to fly because of an active volcano (how crazy is that?)
Despite loving Trader Joe’s and their gluten free-friendly shopping experience, I didn’t really need to see what a store looks like on the West Coast. Nor did I want to leave the strip in Vegas just so I could eat something besides Mexican food. Chipotle’s burrito bowl (which is minus the wrap) has been my favorite gluten-free indulgence since being diagnosed. But it was meant to stay as an indulgence and not become a staple of my vacation diet. It’s not that there aren’t some great West Coast eateries where I, in most cases, overindulged. Pizza Fusion, Sammy’s Woodfired Pizza, Cracked Egg and Hugo’s each had easy to decipher gluten free options on their menus, but I had to start each morning planning my day around my meals. There was no enjoying the delight of finding a cute place in the neighborhood of a museum or, you know, Caesar's Palace. With all the walking that comes with exploring, you earn the right to a little treat between meals, but that treat shouldn't take you off your path. The only fro-yo place that could tell me what was safe for me to eat was Pinkberry – which I quickly grew addicted to; therefore, all my paths had to intersect at a little store that served pomegranate and chocolate swirled goodness.
I will confess I found it very difficult and frustrating, but this trip wasn't about the food, it was about the places. I also know I was lucky I could find food and that my dietiary restriction isn't more severe. Except for one slip up, I was able to have a really enjoyable vacation.
Now, if only they would open more Pinkberry’s on the East Coast.