My sweet, 5 foot nothin', nearly 80-year-old grandma flew across America and landed in California for the very first time in her life.
She set sight on the Pacific Ocean - an ocean she had heard about only from my grandpa's recollections of sailing it on his way to the Korean war, an ocean she had only seen on TV and in pictures - for the very first time in her life.
She surrendered her very limited palette to a full on culinary assault of the senses tasting pesto, avocado, Swiss cheese, panini and frozen yogurt for the very first time in her life.
When I asked her why she had never eaten Swiss cheese before, she said, "Well it looks funny."
In all of the firsts, I became keenly and freshly aware of the privileged globetrotting life I take for granted. I've left the international dateline in the dust. I've eaten octopus, alligator and elk. I've been to three continents and intend on making it to all seven.
I also realized the joy of experiencing firsts well into your 70s and I hope that I can approach firsts with as much enthusiasm as she does.