I think I've finally gotten over the excitement of the hotel buffet. While initially I gorged myself in a attempt to try every delight on offer, I have quickly become aware of the culinary rotation in action and the magic has worn off. The dancing and skipping akin with a trip to Wonka's chocolate factory has now been replaced with the idle perusing of a high street shopper.
The hotel provides familiar foodstuffs and certainly represents the western end of what is on offer, the only trick is that despite familiar packaging and presentation not all is as it seems. A quick whip down any ingredients list on the side of the box is enough to make you question how you are alive at all.
Ironic then that fresh fruit and vegetables are in abundant supply and it is these which I have been using to curb the sudden girth from my flirtation with total gluttony. A lesson I've almost totally, but not quite completely learned *steals another chocolate not so milk from the buffet.
It's funny the things you miss when you're in another country. In Australia I missed chips which weren't just rolled out dried up sick. Here it's Milo. I badly want one, and while tea and coffee are available everywhere you turn, any sort of hot chocolate beverage remains hidden from me. I feel like I am hunting something fabled which lingers in the shadows, you occasionally catch sight of it and question its existence before telling yourself you're crazy.
Not that it makes the slightest lick of sense to want a hot beverage in the desert, but it would be my preference over the juice that's not so juice. I would describe that as being something like ultra thick Raro. I'd be all over that if I was 7, but at 32 it feels more like what the Australians would use for the basis of making chips.
The truth is I have eaten very well, if a little too well and it is now time to be a little more choosey and a lot less of a walking food funnel. Much respect to the 'Lousisana Sandwich' I had in the mall foodcourt. I don't know what was in it, a large part of me doesn't want to know, but I liked it.
The hotel provides familiar foodstuffs and certainly represents the western end of what is on offer, the only trick is that despite familiar packaging and presentation not all is as it seems. A quick whip down any ingredients list on the side of the box is enough to make you question how you are alive at all.
Ironic then that fresh fruit and vegetables are in abundant supply and it is these which I have been using to curb the sudden girth from my flirtation with total gluttony. A lesson I've almost totally, but not quite completely learned *steals another chocolate not so milk from the buffet.
It's funny the things you miss when you're in another country. In Australia I missed chips which weren't just rolled out dried up sick. Here it's Milo. I badly want one, and while tea and coffee are available everywhere you turn, any sort of hot chocolate beverage remains hidden from me. I feel like I am hunting something fabled which lingers in the shadows, you occasionally catch sight of it and question its existence before telling yourself you're crazy.
Not that it makes the slightest lick of sense to want a hot beverage in the desert, but it would be my preference over the juice that's not so juice. I would describe that as being something like ultra thick Raro. I'd be all over that if I was 7, but at 32 it feels more like what the Australians would use for the basis of making chips.
The truth is I have eaten very well, if a little too well and it is now time to be a little more choosey and a lot less of a walking food funnel. Much respect to the 'Lousisana Sandwich' I had in the mall foodcourt. I don't know what was in it, a large part of me doesn't want to know, but I liked it.
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