Give Me Cheese or Give Me Death

I'm suffering from a severe Wallace complex.

Over the last three nights, all my dreams have had cheese in them. They weren't necessarily focused on cheese, but nonetheless the delicacy did play a major part, like a best supporting role if you will.

Is this what drug addicts are like who are going through withdrawal?

Given the lack of widespread availability of dairy products in Asia (except milk, which I have every morning), it is little wonder I am craving any sort of cheese beyond comprehension. Cheddar, brie, gorgonzola, jack--anything will do. Even Wensleydale!

Today I saw a red motorcycle with a Pizza Hut logo painted on the side and a square box behind the seat, like a mini cooler, which I could only assume was an insulated carrier filled with piping hot cheesy, carb-filled, pepperoni-laden creations. As I watched it go by, I came as close as I ever have to actually consider a carjacking, or in this case, a scooter-jacking.

I love the food here. I love the interesting dishes. I absolutely adore the plethora of fresh, healthy vegetables.

But I still have two and a half weeks, and I might yet succumb to the fat on crust.

Must...be...strong.