Thanks to the Kahuku Land Farms Fruit Stand in Hawaii, I’ve officially hit 100 fruits. Milestone! Bam.

I told Mike, our trip lead, how close I was to being centufruitarian, and he went out of his way to find new fruits to try. Thanks to Mike, and the rest of the Hawaii Five Oh team for being so patient and enthusiastic with my quest.

These are the fruits that pushed us past the 100 mark:

No. 99 Cherry Guava

There’s something about bite-sized fruit that just makes me happier. Snacks!

Cherry guavas are such a pretty color, like a sunset. They’re tangy, and the round seeds have a pleasant pop to them when you crunch down.

No. 100! Chico

When I asked the woman at the market what Chicos tasted like, she said, “brown sugar.” She had a bit of an accent, so I thought I’d misunderstood her.

She was exactly right. They’re soft inside, the dominant flavor is brown sugar, and they even seem to have little crunch granules in the flesh.

It was like eating a baked apple plucked directly from the tree.

No. 101 Apple Bananas
No. 102 Ice Cream Bananas

More tiny snack fruits, hooray! These bananas are about as big as my palm, maybe a third of the size of a banana you’d find at the grocery store, and much, much tastier.

The ice cream banana is light and creamy, apt! The apple banana has a pleasant tartness that offsets the sweetness.

Both were fun to eat because you can shove the whole thing in your mouth, and then walk around beating your chest like King Kong. Which I recommend.

No. 103 Mountain Apples

These are a lot like Jamaican Apples, only smaller and tangier.

And this is an Edvard Munch Mountain Apple. Scream all you want, apple.

They’re less dense than a conventional apple, the crunch is more like a really crisp, seedless cucumber. Mmm. Quenchy.

This Friday, we’ll celebrate the century mark with a roundup of my top ten favorite fruits so far. You cannot wait. Fruit nerds, unite!

Dear Pepino Melon,

I got you at Eataly in New York, and you are not very good. You’re like a cucumber-flavored honeydew, but not sweet. No, thanks.

Love,
Maggie

Can’t you almost smell that color?

When I first saw a Mountain Rose Apple, my breath caught. It reminded me of a professor who said that one of the Impressionist painters — I think it was Matisse — brought an apple as a gift when he visited friends. And that’s exactly what these apples are, tokens of affection. The best way to bring something simple and sweet to someone you love.

Taste 1,000 fruits is part of my ongoing Life List project. If you’d like to make a Life List of your own, start with these 10 tips or this exercise.

Oh, I’m sorry. Is this air tank turning you on? As an open water–certified, international woman of mystery I find people have trouble controlling themselves when my fins are in play.

And if the mere sight of me in Heidi braids gets you hot and bothered, meet Lesta, the world’s dreamiest Dive Master:

I know, right? Lesta, the Internet is ogling you. Do something Dive Master-y.

Yeah. That’s working for us.

As I’ve mentioned, deciding to get certified was spur of the moment. Over the years, I’ve found there’s never enough time to do the things on your Life List if you don’t just shoe horn them in. So when an opportunity arises to check something off, I try to say yes, even if it seems inconvenient at first. (Like, say, you need to arrange child care for a week, buy an international plane ticket, and take several hours of classes in the next eight days, but you’re also hosting a conference two weeks after your return. For example.)

The week before my flight, I studied for my written test.

Then I did a little time in the pool at Bamboo Reef in San Francisco.

When I arrived on the island, I had a universal referral form that let me complete my open water certification there, so Lesta took me and Geri-Ayn out diving where I ran some skill drills.

I practiced putting my equipment together.

I learned how to take my fins off in the water without knocking my teeth against the boat ladder.

And I filled my scuba mask with water over, and over, and over again until the inside of my nose was aflame, and my eyes stung with brine, and I could taste tin in my mouth from the panic. Then instead of lunging for the surface and screaming that Lesta was trying to drown me, I blew the water out of my mask, breathed deeply, and refrained from attacking him while adrenaline coursed through my veins.

Aside from mask clears, scuba diving is one of the most peaceful things I’ve ever done. People at the resort kept asking me what I saw on my dives, and the question still confuses me. I saw the ocean! From underneath! And I was breathing!

The thought of it still makes me feel little.

If you’re ever diving in St. Lucia, I can’t recommend Lesta’s services more highly. He works at Ti Kaye resort and you don’t have to stay there to dive with them, so just give a call and they’ll help you.

More of my posts on Scuba diving:

More photos of my trip
Lifelist: Learning to Scuba Dive
On Fear and Scuba Diving

I’m not sure how I got here.

As a kid, I refused any activity that could hurt me. I didn’t learn to ride a bike until I was nine. I refused to leave the steps of our backyard pool until my big sister essentially insisted that I learn to swim before she’d let me out of the water. At the time I was convinced that she didn’t grasp the concept of drowning. Why couldn’t I just go read on the patio? No one ever died of reading. This might also be true of kickball, but even as an adult I remain dubious.

The first time I tried snorkeling, I hated it. Nothing like inhaling salt water unexpectedly while 300 fish crowd around your face mask and your legs are shredded by coral! Hey sharks, I hear you can smell a drop of blood in the water from a zillion miles away! Come and get it while I’m blinded by these tropical fish!

The second time I snorkeled, I was on the Great Barrier Reef, where I hated snorkeling for eight hours straight. When I turned thirty, I went to Belize and thought I’d finally gotten the hang of it. It was amazing, until our guide unexpectedly chummed the water for sharks. That was one of the first times I decided my overactive risk-o-meter wasn’t useful anymore. As I watched everyone leave the boat for a front-row view of the feeding frenzy, I realized it was time to jump.

Since then, I’ve learned to roll in a kayak, jumped off the top of a redwood tree, and went on a surprisingly adrenal dog sledding adventure. And last week, I got my open water scuba certification.

The more I do these things, the more I realize I just have to shut my eyes and jump. We’re afraid of the unknown, and once it becomes rote it isn’t scary anymore. The process of turning fear into comfort is all about familiarity. This is true of adventures, of travel, and of each other.

Tomorrow, let’s talk about scuba diving. I think you should try it.