What is true love? Is it a couple that has been together for 50 years? Or perhaps a mother seeing her child for the first time? Friends, I have witnessed true love, and can safely say that it is neither of these things. No, friends, true love is between a gyro man and his gyro.

Meet Gyro Man. Gyro Man grew up in Budapest but fell in love with a Tibetan girl raised in India. After many years together, they birthed the most delicious gyro I have ever tasted, combining meat-grilling techniques of Hungary with an assortment of Indian spices. However, the set of ingredients only begins to explain why this gyro rises above all similar gyros in the mean streets of Hungary. The secret ingredient is love–love that Gyro Man puts into every painstaking layer of his gyro, which is neatly wrapped in a lightly toasted pita bread. Each bite contains hints of a mixture of flavors which tantalize every organ in your body and soul, leaving you craving a second stomach just so you can consume one more. Friends, I did not have a second stomach, but I ate a second one anyway. And it was delicious. Hat tip to you, Gyro Man. You are my gyro hero.

For a long time I forgot what air travel was like. After countless flights on USAir and Southwest, I had come to think that a ride on an airplane entailed gripping my armrests tightly while the engines make popping and rattling noises and flight attendants growl at me. That was my conception of air travel… until I stepped on board a Singapore Air 747.

While walking to my seat at the back of the plane, I’m pretty sure I was personally greeted by all 22 flight attendants. On my seat I found a pillow and a blanket. And an hour into the flight, I found on my tray table a meal fit for a flying king.

Beef with white rice and steamed vegetables, a side of ham salad, a roll with butter, rice pudding, spring water and Coke light. Yum. The last flight I was on I got a Sprite. Only a Sprite. On my last international flight I got a Sprite and a yogurt. Oh, happy day.

But on Singapore Air, I was fed handsomely and treated like a person, not a bacteria culture. It was refreshing to fly with an airline where the crew were taking pride in their work instead of taking shelter in the galley.

I have never been to Singapore. But for eight hours, Singapore came to me.

When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Unfortunately, I am not in Rome. I, like rice, am in Vienna, referred to locally as Wien. So if we are to apply the saying to other cities, we must ask ourselves a very important question: what do the Wieners do?

Answer: they eat boatloads of pork. So that’s what I did as well.

Pictured above is a plate with a pork chop, ham, bacon, and wiener sausage. In case that’s not enough, they added a breadball (breaded, as per rice’s observation about Austrian cuisine), a mountain of sauerkraut, and two small potatoes.

The other white meat? I think not. Here pork is the meat. Period. End of discussion. After countless sausages, much ham, several pork chops, and bacon, I can say confidently that when in Wien, I did as the Wieners do. And it was delicious.