A week from today Paris opens its international Book Fair. A usually low-key affair, Paris’s book fair this year joins with Turin’s International Book Fair in storming newspaper headlines with their choice to honor Israeli writers. In response, several Arab countries, including Lebanon and Iran, are boycotting the fairs.

It’s a pity that an event meant to celebrate international literature of all kinds is overshadowed by politics. Some might say the personal is always political (and they might be right), but in this case it does seem to be counter-productive to confuse a country’s writers with its government’s policies. Amos Oz, for example, who is one of the authors being honored, can’t help being Israeli. Like any good writer, he writes what he knows and does it well. He is also one of the world’s most outspoken critics of the Israeli government’s policies and has been an advocate of a two-state solution to the Israel-Palestine conflict since 1967. His 2003 memoir A Tale of Love and Darkness is one of the most beautiful books I have ever read, and every page speaks of the author’s sincerity, intelligence, and insight; and makes it clear that growing up in Israel nurtured Oz’s rare sympathy with the Palestinian people.

In every age literature has served to teach people that the world is infinitely complex, just as politicians always seek to convince them that there is a glib, tidily packaged answer to every problem of life. Amos Oz and many of the other writers being honored at this year’s book fairs understand that there are no easy answers to the world’s problems, any more than there are easy definitions of people and their beliefs.

Politicians like to tell us that everything wrong in one’s society is Someone Else’s fault, that Someone usually being of a different color, language, or religion. Writers find myriad ways to illustrate an opposing truth: that our problems lie in ourselves and how we view the world. It would be nice, but unexpected, if people of all stripes could learn to tell the difference.

In honor of Sheila’s post about going local, I made a special trip yesterday up to New Paltz, New York, which is not only a beautiful, funky town, but also contains one of my favorite places to lunch. Of New Paltz’s many excellent places to eat — including microbrewery The Gilded Otter Brewing Company, the perpetually packed Main Street Bistro, and Mudd Puddle Coffee Roasters & Cafe (a local source for excellent coffee, not to be confused with the chain Muddy Cup on Main Street) — The Village Tea Room is the best, hands down.

Maybe it’s the family-friendly atmosphere. Maybe it’s that the owner, Agnes Devereux, is an Irishwoman. Or maybe it’s because the restaurant was at the forefront of the quiet countrywide locovore movement, before it was a movement. (Locovore: in broad terms, one who eats only locally produced food.) In her 2007 interview with Hudson Valley magazine The Valley Table, Devereaux describes her education in food when she moved from Paris to New York City: “I would see incredible food and taste it — and it would taste like nothing. I would see this gorgeous apple and buy it and have a mouthful of mealy stuff.” I’m sure we all know that feeling: the tomato that tastes slightly like fish, the steak that tastes like processed corn.

So when she and her husband moved upstate and opened a teahouse and wine bar, they went searching for food that tasted good. And from New York to California, or Naples to Catalonia, we all know that food tastes best which travels least. In other words, locally grown. The Village Tea Room gets cheese from Sprout Creek Farm in Poughkeepsie, New York, milk and cream from Ronnybrook Farm in Ancramdale of the same state, and greens from a variety of local farms. Their cheese is fantastic, the milk is sweet, and the salads and vegetarian soups year-round are worth my 45-minute drive.

Sheila is right. There are times when a chain restaurant can be a life saver (like when you’ve been skiing all day in Andorra and are starving at 6, but in true Pyrenees style the restaurants won’t even open until 8 — that’s when a McDonald’s starts to look real good). But for real food, and a real sense of community, find a restaurant that takes from, and gives to, its surrounding area.

The Hudson Valley is full of great restaurants and a huge variety of farms that serve them. The Valley Table magazine, mentioned above, is one of the best sources I’ve found that opens up the food production chain and helps food-lovers follow their meat and veg from pasture to table. For a slower introduction to the locovore movement, try Barbara Kingsolver’s most recent book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life, where she and her family spend a year only eating food produced within 100 miles of their home. And when traveling, there’s one way to find the best dives, the best omelettes or shepherd’s pie or hot & sour soup, the best restaurant or cafe that’s been there forever: ask a local.

The Perceptive Travel blog is closing in on its first birthday….we officially opened our blogging doors on March 21, 2007.

Our benevolent “parent,” the Perceptive Travel Web magazine, fired up in early 2006 and is still going strong (check out the great stories in the current March/April 08 issue, including stops in Burma, Greece, the Caribbean, Kyrgyzstan and Vietnam, plus the usual insightful world music and travel book reviews.)

While we’re horn-tooting, PT Editor Tim Leffel just reported in about beating the crowds to Panama over on MSNBC.com.

Sometimes I do slow down enough to notice and appreciate the cycles and rhythms of the calendar year. As the annual Austin March Madness that is the South by Southwest (SXSW) Interactive/Music/Film festival approaches later this week, I enjoyed reflecting on last March’s post about eating local before they tear it down at the Las Manitas Avenue Cafe.

The story was about a lively Tex-Mex dive that is an Austin institution, but was going to have to make way for the wrecking ball and the arrival of a new Marriott hotel.

The building where it’s located is not architecturally significant, but the vibe of the place is pure Austin and a tribute to the indefatigable Pérez sisters, who built the place up from a University of Texas taco push cart starting in 1979.

Last March, I wrote:

“I won’t get into any more detail here, but I want to issue a clarion call. Go eat at your local joints and support them. Ask around when you visit places, and go eat at their local joints.”

The updated good news in the Austin American-Statesman is that as of January 2008, an agreement has been reached that will eventually move the restaurant up the street a bit, but “there will always be a Las Manitas.”

As I watched this story unfold over the last year, I’ve been struck by how many times I’ve seen the same saga across the planet. The predictability of a Starbucks or Chilis or McDonalds certainly has its place — as a 3-time expat, I can tell you that it can be total mental relaxation and bliss to walk into any Starbucks and be able to understand the menu and know what you’re getting.

However, people are finally understanding that a real sense of place cannot come from a chain business, which by its nature emphasizes the same experience everywhere.

A real sense of place, of not having Osaka, Japan feel like Oswego, New York, comes from local places run by local people with “skin in the game” in their community. I encourage you to support such establishments when you can.