1. INTERIOR MOHAMMED'S EATERY, COLOMBO, SRI LANKA - DAY

One of the many eating houses in the Pettah, Colombo's main marketplace, provides the backdrop for mine and Tony's first Sri Lankan meal, a hearty breakfast of String Hoppers (steamed rice noodles); paripoo, or red lentils stewed in coconut milk; pol sambol, a spicy condiment of fresh shredded coconut laced with lime juice, salt and chili powder; chili fish curry, potato curry and sour fish curry. We have just slogged our way through the crowded and chaotic central fish market around the corner, and I, having prudently bypassed the lavish breakfast buffet at the stately Galle Face Hotel, our home away from home this week, have worked up a healthy appetite that neither the oppressive heat nor the condensed-milk tea we're sipping can kill.

Roll Cameras

In an instant the table is covered with a colorful, edible tapestry-the yellow-tinged potato curry, shaded with turmeric, contrasting against fiery red fish gravy and orange coconut sambol, black sour fish and white rice noodle nests. I waste no time, quickly using up all real estate on my plate, but when I peek at Tony's, it's looking pretty zen. As a fan of the show, my mind's eye flashes back to an episode like Montreal, where Bourdain was practically mainlining foie gras as the mischievous chef sent him a flurry of rich main courses, which Tony scooped down his pie-hole like a trooper. Was this the same Tony Bourdain, Mouth Almighty, The Walking Stomach, King of Street Food? Or did they cheat on TV, and just make it look like he eats a lot? That's certainly not what the producers told me when I signed on. Worse yet: What if he doesn't like the food? I considered it an honor and a pleasure to introduce a serious eater like Tony to the cuisine of my homeland, and if he just didn't dig it, I would have felt really bad. These thoughts were the subtext as we spoke casually about the meal for the cameras. Afterwards I asked him:

SKIZ

Tony, so how you feeling, man? Everything cool?

TONY

Yeah, man. But I've had this thing since before we left New York.

Some kind of bug or something.

SKIZ

Oh, no. For real?

TONY

Of course, it didn't help that the lady in the next seat was coughing all over me all the way from Kuwait City. But yeah, I can't seem to keep anything down.

It suddenly dawned on me that even a job as perfect as his-to travel the world and sample her exotic delights-had its own pitfalls. What if you were hot and jetlagged and afflicted with a serious head cold that impeded your olfactory senses? What if you were so sick you couldn't even keep any food down? What if you just didn't feel like eating and had to plow through three or four heavy meals in a day? Things to think about when you eat for a living. Nevertheless, this was a food and travel show, and with only six days of shooting, the show must go on.

Thankfully, it did, without a hitch. After Tony's stomach settled down, and we plied him with a few alcoholic beverages for good measure, the man I knew from the TV screen returned in fine form. Not only that, but he genuinely enjoyed each successive meal more than the one before it. In fact, I noticed that the whole crew-Producer Tom, Segment Producer Jared, and Jerry and Todd, the cameramen -- all loaded up on the Sri Lankan specialties every morning at the breakfast buffet, not to mention scarfing down all the food that Tony and I ate on camera, as well. And these guys can take the heat from all the chili-laden dishes, which I've never seen gringos handle so well. Of course, Tony gets extra points for making it through those first few meals, which probably went straight through him.

For more about the "No Reservations" Sri Lanka trip, check out my own blog at Riceandcurry.wordpress.com.

I have been to DC before, but never like this.

In the past, I have spent countless hours wandering the National Mall, hitting up the Smithsonian Institute's cadre of museums, taking in precious moments at the Reflecting Pool (why do Forest and Jenny always come to mind?) sandwiched between the Lincoln and Washington Memorials, gazing at the sheer sobering geometrics of Arlington National Cemetery, and so much more to list.

My previous trips seemed to happen in the fall or winter, and adding to the visual effect of all those bright white tomes to our country's past was a brisk or downright frigid breeze. This has cemented that whole "George Washington crossing the frozen Delaware River" image burned into my brain during all those valuable middle school history classes.

**In reference to the above comment (and in defense of the prowess of my middle school teachers) I know that George's crossing of the Delaware occurred during the Revolutionary War, which was before DC was even founded, but still that painting sums up the whole place for me for some reason. Maybe it's just me. **

To the point - When I was there with Tony and the crew shooting the show, it wasn't winter. As a matter of fact, it was so far from winter that for moments I wondered if winter had retired from the team. I forgot what snow was or how it was made (plummeting cloud pieces from the stratosphere?). It was hard to comprehend how humanity survived in such a hellish place. Getting hit by a blast of air conditioning could cause shock to set in. I would enter buildings and immediately look for a place Tony and the crew could lie down and elevate their legs above their heads - just in case.

I understand now why they never painted George in the summertime. He wore shorts and a tank top. That would have looked ridiculous in the history books …especially with that hat.

Not to overstate the obvious (too late) - It was hot.

Like melting the matte box off a camera hot.

Like there is no way that anyone could survive in this heat hot.

Like if given the option to try to catch a large water balloon full of half-melted ice cubes in your mouth or to delicately sip a bottle of Evian you would choose the former hot.

And I have to carry this backpack with me everywhere.

You see - we are a small crew, and a hell of a team. We work well in tight spaces, kitchens, on boats, hanging from car windows …in pretty much all situations imaginable. The smallish nature of our crew leads to all of us taking on more tasks to keep our numbers low. The camera guys do all of their own lighting, grip work, and sound. The producer of the episode carries gear and helps shoot as well as making sure all the pieces of the puzzle come together properly.

And I have my backpack - full of the essentials for a shooting day on No Reservations. Here is a quick list of the first ten items a police officer randomly reaching in during a search would find in it.

1 - 9 volt batteries

2 - fake blood

3 - rubber mallet (don't ask)

4 - an impressive smattering of pills for all kinds of ailments (all legal, of course)

5 - Quik Clot (look it up online)

6 - a Blackberry that looks like someone threw it into a washing machine full of rocks

7 - back up tape stock

8 - bottles of water (day shooting)

9 - bottles of beer (night shooting)

10 - Trapper Keeper notebook (Transformers edition)

There is more in there, and the contents vary, but it all adds up to about 40 pounds of necessities for the crew strapped to my back. When combined with the oppressive heat of DC, my backpack felt as if I was carrying a space heater with me during our shoot days. I actually would color coordinate my clothing based on the shirts matching the pants after they were soaked through.

A major part of my job is making the first contact with our guests on the show. I walk up, shake hands, and introduce them to Tony and the rest of the crew. I felt self conscious about walking up to them looking as if I just ran a marathon, but the locals didn't even seem to notice …it was like they just understood that summer in DC is hot - and there is nothing you can do about it.

Two showers a day worked for me as a start.

-JA

He moved through the office to another impromptu meeting with other producers and editors. They were discussing the Labor Day show, a barbecue-tastic, beef-topia in Connecticut the next day. Oh, how I wished to be there among the smells, the pool, the friendly sun. I secretly imagined a petting zoo, rounds of doing the Hokey-Pokey, a performance by the Cramps, and trust falls. And rainbows, made of cake.

As I approached Tom to tell him how much I'd enjoyed my sandwich, I overheard Tony. "We need a Ukulele, and Hawaiian Shirts. Say Adam, you're about the coolest guy ever, do you possess these items?"

Well, it was something like that. It came up that I play the uke (I play depression era folk music) and that I have a small collection of genuine, 70's polyester Hawaiian shirts (I went to high school on Maui). And just like my ex-best friend's honeymoon, I'd snuck my ass onto another trip.

You know that last scene in Boogie Nights, when the characters have gone through hell or worse and they're all back together, a big family, forgetting the challenges and digging the unity at the pool with the grill flaming? Well, replace the smut with a lot of equally talented people organizing over a dozen miniature businesses a year (every episode really is a little company). This shoot was a celebration of all those fully mind-destroying, relatively Olympian feats that shows can turn often out to be (bear in mind that Big-Tony B is on ALL of them). It all works because everybody is good at what they do and everybody loves it. Well, one guy didn't like it. Tony made us eat him in a lemon-wine sauce ...

We all helped with food, setting up, holding reflectors, building up mics and jumping in the bouncy castle. I think Nari was in charge of drinking. I went to the workshop to saw and hammer some tracking targets together for a retrospective shot for the "Tony's many eccentric acquaintances" segment. Then we grilled. After Tony cooked about infinity-pounds of meat for an hour, he deserved a damn break. Naturally, he turned to the nearest person and handed me the spatula (I was closer than the table). Of course, though, he was a gent. I learned that when the burger puffs a little, it's done. Also, I learned that I come from a family that slightly overcooks food. And at the very, very end, I learned you can give a man a burger or you can teach him to grill. That, my friends, is a trust fall worth two in the bush.

Tony: I love you like a brother ... but after hearing you talk about the difficulty of our caving adventure in Jamaica, I needed to chime in here! I'm convinced you've become, as your British pals might say, a big girl's blouse.

You wrote that this was "the hardest, most physically demanding, insanely foolhardy and irresponsible venture ever on NO RESERVATIONS". Really? I know your memory is somewhat selective, but can I remind you of such shoots as Malaysia, where we hauled ass through the jungles of Sarawak for 6 hours, trying to keep up with our 80-something-year-old, amazingly fit Iban guide? Or New Zealand, where we huffed and puffed up 45-degree-angle hills to hunt a 400-pound wild boar ... an angry boar that could have turned on any of us at a given moment, carving us into carpaccio?

The "steaming" jungle was a walk in the park compared to past endeavors. You're just annoyed that we had to dry-hump a log to cross the river. Though I give you credit ... you successfully (and gracefully, I might add) sauntered across that log on the return, pulling your best Mary Lou Retton impression. Yeah, we probably won't use that footage. Dry-humping the log is funnier.

For the record: I NEVER said there would be "hand rails and a gift shop". I'm pretty sure I even included this disclaimer in the production material, taken from the Jamaican Caves Organization website:
It must always be remembered that caving is inherently dangerous. Proper precautions can greatly reduce the likelihood of injury or death, but there is a definite risk involved and this cannot be forgotten.

No? I didn't include that? Oops. Sorry. Still ... the experience wasn't THAT bad, was it?

True, it was a bit of a challenge just getting in (and out) of that cave, via the vertical tree roots. And navigating down and around sharp, slippery boulders in the dark isn't something that any of us do every day. I especially give Todd, Zach and Paul a lot of credit ... navigating the difficult terrain with a camera in one hand wasn't easy. You forgot to mention the part where Paul dropped a new production camera in a puddle of bat urine.

Still ... the pride and enthusiasm of our guides from the Jamaican Caves Organization was contagious. I also appreciated that they brought along some very cute Peace Corps volunteers to help out (that really dishy one ... what was his name?) I loved every second of it. The post-caving pictures of our group says it all.

You should have saved your muddy clothes from this shoot. We could have auctioned them off, donating the money to charities for bat guano research.

Rainbows and unicorns forever, Diane