** This is my 100th writing yay!!!***

I grew up in a community where pineapples were considered a sacred fruit.

They were few and far between. Families, if they could afford it’s rarity, had them displayed on a shrine never to be touched.

My family could never afford one. We were a level below middle class but two levels above lower class.

Thankfully my parents could still afford to pay my first semester of college. I managed to get an academic scholarship that paid for the rest of my school.

And now I am somewhere in Italy for a study abroad trip. One of the most bizarre things about traveling the world is that you are exposed to different customs and beliefs all over the world.

And one of them shocked me to the core of my being.

Pineapple on pizza.

At first, after the shock settled, I was really confused. For a time I refused to accept the idea that others would use, much less eat, a sacred fruit.

But the entire point was to learn new things. And though a shock, it fell under that category.

One day, after contemplating it for a two weeks, I finally decided to try something that I could get arrested for in my hometown.

But when I took that first bite, I immediately came to the conclusion that pineapples are meant to be eaten, and that they indeed go on pizza.