And I was happiest during my stay in Egypt sitting under those same stars, a fire crackling and throwing off sparks nearby, belly full of roast lamb, surrounded -- as far as the eye could see -- by nothing but the dark rises of an ocean of sand. But Cairo was another matter.Egyptians are surprisingly friendly towards Americans. One hears "Hello!" and "Welcome!" from passing strangers all the time. And there's something truly wonderful about the drivers in this unbelievably crowded and unruly city. Though there are precious few traffic lights, somehow cars move at a good clip through the bumper to bumper streets. There's apparently a language of car horns -- coded beeps, taps and honks -- containing a fairly vast vocabulary of implications. Cars and pedestrians intermingle in impossible to perceive patterns and yet keep moving. Parking in the narrow, dog-leg back streets of Cairo is a mysterious and cooperative effort often involving driving backwards for great distances. Pythagorus would have been dazzled by the way eight or ten cars move forward or backward to allow one car in or out.

There's those pyramids. Though I never saw them except as shapes, seen through the haze from the window of a passing car.

I was not at ease in Cairo. It wasn't the gun-packing security types we were required to have along at all times. They were nice enough. And our fixer was a great guy. It was the Egyptian standard breakfast of "ful". And the fact that the tourism types didn't want us to see it. (See Rennik Soholt's excellent entry on "The Crew's Blog" to get the backstory on how we managed to actually get that scene). Ful (pronounced "fool") is a bowl or plate of mashed or semi-mashed fava beans which have been cooked in a copper pot -- usually with onions and some garlic -- and served with a healthy dose of olive oil. You eat it with flatbread. A LOT of bread -- usually a big stack which you use to sop up every bit. It's affectionately referred to as a "stone in the stomach". And they mean that in a good way.

Since pharonic times, the poor and working poor have filled up on the stuff as pretty much their principal meal of the day. If you're doing well for yourself, you can get a chopped, hard-cooked egg on top. And some pickled vegetables on the side. Problem is, very few Egyptians are doing well. In fact, most are living on or way below the poverty line. That bread is often the greater part of breakfast lunch AND dinner. And bread, recently, has doubled in price (with the rising cost of flour worldwide). Price supported bakeries, run (ominously) by the army, have been forced to ration, cutting their hours drastically.

The government, such as it is, is of the kind where enormous pictures of a Much Younger Looking Than He's Been in Years Fearless Leader are everywhere. Members of the opposition tend to get arrested just before elections. So Egypt felt like an inappropriate place to be doing a "food" show. Frankly, I didn't feel up to the job. When I found myself on a felucca, shooting a "majestic" waterborne scene on the Nile, and ten minutes out, the mast snapped off under a bridge, it seemed a perfect metaphor for the entire dubious enterprise. We limped around for an additional hour or so, the producer trying in vain to make the best of things, hoping, I imagine, that the audience would be oblivious to the huge, dangling spar, the sagging, sorry-ass sail, the fact that we were limping along like a gimped seagull.

Maybe it's that I particularly like Egyptians and wish the best for them. That our stunted sailboat seemed a metaphor for the hopes and dreams of the many good hearted people I met. Or maybe it was because Egypt was the last episode of season four, and I was just really, really homesick.

In any case, we're well into season five as I write this from Mexico City. I'm down here with my friend Carlos, the chef of Les Halles, and tomorrow, we head out for Puebla to meet his parents, sit down for a big Llaguna family meal. It'll be nice to see where the guy who worked by my side and who now has the job I once had comes from. It's a happier situation for sure. In every cantina, pulqueria, fonda we've visited, there's music. All the songs are very sad -- yet Mexicans seem always to find the beauty, the irony -- and even the humor in often hopeless situations -- and sing about them.

A short, sweet-faced, matronly woman made me quesadillas of fresh cheese and zucchini blossoms in the street today. The fillings cooked inside blue corn tortillas which she made by hand in front of me. They puffed and blistered on the hot metal . As she proudly presented me with the finished product, folding the quesadilla with a final squeeze and passing it to me with her hands, I noticed her fingers were dusted with indigo colored corn flour.

They were beautiful.

But the train was here, now. A decision had to be made. And Buffalo was looking like a mighty strong contender. Out of thousands of often terrifying submissions, dark figures muttering at the camera from blood-freckled cellar rumpus rooms, there were actually a few really good ones. Nelson Starr's admirably deranged ode to Buffalo was a snowy masterpiece -- if limited in its culinary offerings. It had the advantage of being close. And that it kind of "rawked".

Augusto Elefanio's enthusiastic plea to take him along to the Philippines, so that he could reconnect with his roots, was also excellent and heartfelt and might get the masses of Filipinos who've been (understandably) hectoring me ("Why haven't you been to my country yet?") finally, off my back.

Eric Rivera suggested Thailand -- from a kick-boxer's perspective, in an articulate, compassionate video presenting a place that was already familiar to me and well known for its outrageously varied and delicious cuisine.

And then there was Danya Alhamrani's earnest, professional looking tape urging me to join her in Saudi Arabia -- just about the last place I would ever have considered going.Unfortunately, for my plans to basically rig this whole, shameful project, to pick some marginally comprehensible, and relatively unthreatening fan and spend a few days shooting footage of me comically avoiding the contest winner -- in like, Bermuda, or Montauk, Danya's video was just so damn good. And Saudi Arabia seemed like such a difficult, even foolish option.

I mean, let's face it, how much fun could it be? Most of the hijackers came from Saudi Arabia. They're mostly pretty fundamentalist Muslims! Women cover themselves head-to-toe in black. The men wear head dress and white floor length, skirty things! It's hot --really hot. There's NO BEER!! If any destination was predestined to suck, this was it.

But Danya Alhamrani is an extraordinary woman. And the fact that during finalist interviews, she pretty much challenged me to visit her country and still think ill of it, was well, pretty persuasive. She touched that obstinate streak of contrariness in me that little voice that's always telling me that if I'm sure of a thing -- and everybody agrees with me -- then I'm probably wrong.

And it's nice being wrong. One of the delights of travel is finding, again and again that all your preconceptions, all the conventional wisdom, everything you thought for sure was right -- is, in fact, wrong -- or at least, far from a complete picture. Saudi Arabia, it turned out, was fun. Really!

I urge you to take a look at producer Amy Teuteberg's excellent and provocative crew blog. There's not much I can add to that (and what you see in the show) -- except to lavish even more praise on the remarkable Danya, her friends and family. It's only right, I think, that a tough, independent Western woman's perspective should be most useful and relevant when talking about what the experience was like. It is women, after all, who are denied the right to drive, who must cover themselves in public. So, wheel over to the Crew Blog as soon as you can.

I can only tell you that standard male dress in the Kingdom, the "thobe", felt surprisingly ... liberating. Walking through my hotel lobby, there was a strange relief, a comfort in looking exactly like everybody else. And superb testicular ventilation.

And if there was one really big surprise, it's that so many Saudis we met had a sense of humor. This is not what you'd expect after watching "60 Minutes" or "Dateline" or various hard news descriptions of life in the Kingdom. Fact is we met a lot of funny, good natured, very, very generous people over there. They actually had the capacity to laugh at themselves. They were all too aware of how they look to outsiders. They watch "Friends" and "Oprah" and "American Idol".

Many, many of them were educated abroad. They were scrupulously devout in their faith without being humorless. It was a flawlessly organized and executed shoot -- thanks to newcomer producer Amy, the magnificent Danya, and Dania and many friends -- and in fact, a rollicking good -- if alcohol free -- time. I think a lot of people are going to be surprised by the show.

As a final note, we will, on some snowy winter day, shoot at least part of a show in Buffalo. And Nelson Starr shall surely be our guide. Bangkok is on the horizon for the coming season. And we would be remiss if we did not have Eric Rivera, with his unique perspective and unusual access along for the ride. Plus, my wife wants to take a week or two in mui tai camp there. And just as the Phillipines are long overdue for a show, Augusto Elefanio deserves to have his dreams come true.

So with luck, everybody, as they say, is a winner.