It ain't easy being cheesy
People are constantly thinking about something, whether they express their thoughts through speech or not, there is never a time where the human brain is simply not thinking about anything. Thousands of thoughts pass through one’s mind as they hike through the mountains and the over grown forest of Curieuse Island. For me, and I assume I am not the only one, this topic is often about food. I often find myself wondering, “Who will I get delicious food from? What will it be? When will be my next meal? Where will I eat it? Is it tacos? Tacos sound good right now. I really hope it’s tacos”. At least three times a day, any given person will stop what they are doing, drop everything, and do whatever it takes to acquire a delicious, scrumptious, savoury or sweet meal for which they can sink their teeth into and say, “YUM”.
I was asking myself all of these questions the other evening while I was in the midst of a survey in the wild mangroves of the island. As we were picking up trash around the hundreds of roots of the trees, I couldn’t help but think that trees were lucky. They could constantly do their equivalent of eating day in and day out, without worrying about being fat or unhealthy. Other trees don’t judge. I’m jealous. Then, as I was picking up an empty bag of cheesy snacks, I realized that out of the millions and millions of trees and plants in the world, not one is ever going to have the chance of tasting the cheesy goodness of processed cheese snacks, or being able to binge eat sweet sweet rocky road ice cream. I was not jealous of the shrubbery around me anymore, but now I had one thing on my mind. Cheese.
This is a very dangerous topic to be hooked on, because it is not often you find a satisfactory amount of cheese on an island with no inhabitants except for volunteers. As I progressed step by step, adding to the ever growing collection of plastics and bits of rope, my mind would occasionally drift off. “Whoa that’s a cool looking bird,” or “that crab has huge claws. I wonder if the mangrove crabs taste good,” or “what is the appeal of a swimsuit that tight and small? Someone really needs to help that guy out,” were often things I wondered about. However, my mind always found its way back to trying to remember the last time I had good cheese. As we made our way to the ranger station to await for the pick up to our base via boat, the looming fear that I may not be able to acquire something as appetizing as some good ole cheese started to dawn on me. First came the fear, then the despair set in right before the horror that I may not be able to satisfy this craving that I so dearly desired. Right before I was about to have a nervous breakdown, I heard the call for dinner. I rushed over to see what had been prepared. My prayers were answered. The cheesy goodness of the lasagne sat right in front of my eyes. I was saved.
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