There's a lot of pressure when you're traveling in the developing world to either brag about the amazing access to delicious street food you're sampling or on the flip, to report back home about the urgent cravings you're having for whatever that dish is that you just can't get in a place so "deprived" and "dangerous."

"You must be dying over there." "What are you craving?" "Do they even have Twinkies? How about vegetables?"

Why are people so excited at the idea that I can't have something? Why are they hoping to tantalize me by mentioning food that I hadn't even thought about since 2002?

I consider myself a pretty thoughtful person. I want the world to be fed, for all to be satiated. I'm not going to hope that the diner down the street holds out on the real maple syrup for the pancakes you ordered. So why do you delight in the fact that it might be difficult for me to score an iceberg wedge with chunky blue cheese with a hint of anchovies and maybe a little crumble of thickly cut bacon?

"No," I meekly report. "There are no McDonalds in Rwanda. I guess I will have to wait on that breakfast sandwich."