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Friday my host mom brought out a kiwi for me. Her daughter (Marianne--lives upstairs) had bought it for me in her daily run to the store. Doamna Dabija was like "I've never had one of those. I don't know how you eat it! Looks like a potatoe to me!"



Well, this morning she asked how it was--"you know! the potato!" she said. I had taken it with me to eat later in the day, had forgotten, and it was still in my bag. So, I got it, cut it up, and gave her a slice. She liked it. I did too. It was a shared cultural moment.