In a 2012 episode of The Layover, chef, writer, TV personality, and traveler Anthony Bourdain offered this sage wisdom on exploring Paris:

“Most of us are lucky to see Paris once in a lifetime. Please, make the most of it by doing as little as possible. Walk a little. Get lost a bit. Eat. Catch a breakfast buzz. Have a nap. Try and have sex if you can, just not with a mime. Eat again. Lounge around drinking coffee. Maybe read a book. Drink some wine. Eat. Repeat.”

It’s great practical advice that also captures an attitude for living. 

Bourdain, who died Friday at 61, didn’t just offer tips on scoping out good street food or seamlessly navigating an airport. Whether he was eating bún chả with Barack Obama, sitting with kids in Gaza, or charming food vendors on every continent, to watch Bourdain conduct himself was to watch a global citizen in the most aspirational sense of the phrase. You could see it in the sweaty film that dappled his forehead as he drank a cold beer on a hot day. In the look of industrious seriousness with which he approached a steaming hot bowl of noodles. In the earnest politeness and gratitude with which he unfailingly treated his hosts. Bourdain possessed a no-bullshit vitality, a humble awareness of his privilege as a white, male American, and an appreciation for the things—cold beer, hot noodles, the fact that seafood always tastes better when you’re barefoot in the sand—that are true no matter where you find yourself on this big Earth.

Bourdain didn’t just create good TV—he created a roadmap to becoming someone who moves through a world of connections and contradictions with grace, swag, and curiosity. At a time when the word “globalist” can feel tinged with elitism, Bourdain’s model brings another meaning to it entirely. He gave us a reason to believe that a more generous, open, and delicious world is not only possible, it’s waiting for us to go out and find it. —Rosie Spinks