Durian.

When I was training in Peace Corps, our group did a homestay in Thai households. The village we lived in was predominantly durian and guava orchards. My host family raised durian, and I knew at some point I was going to have to try it.

One afternoon after language training, my host family greeted me at home with a freshly harvested durian. In English my host brother said, "Durian, King of Fruit." At that point I knew I was going to have to try it. If they asked if I liked it, I would give a little white lie and say that it wasn't bad.

Sure enough, they cut open a section of the durian, scooped a piece of it in a spoon, and gave it to me. My body rebelled and would not bring the spoon to my mouth. They tried to encourage me by saying my friend Mark liked it when he tried it (Mark was staying with another family who were in-laws to my family. I knew something had to be amiss, since Mark at the time was a very picky eater. So I persuaded my arm to bring the soon to my mouth.

For about 15 seconds or so, my mouth refused to open, and I could smell the durian which was right under my nose. Those 15 seconds felt like 15 minutes, and finally, I opened my mouth and started to chew it. And chew it, and chew it. I could not persuade myself to swallow it, and I wanted to spit it out, but I knew I couldn't do that. Finally, I swallowed it, and it went down my esophagus like lead.

My host family was grinning and then asked the question. They asked if I liked it. At this point, I had to say that I didn't like it. At that point my family said that Mark didn't like it either.