Reading and — I’m sure prior to my ability to do that — being read to.
[Note: I would define the “kid” years as those between infancy and teenage years. So, my obsession with reading was bookended by an obsession with boobies.]
My wife and I once had tea in Nagaland with men who’d been cannibals in their youth, but they weren’t anymore (and — in point of fact — probably didn’t have the teeth for solid food anymore,) so I don’t think that counts.
For the most part, I don’t think of customs as being more or less interesting, just — sometimes — unexpected. I’ve noticed that most people see cultural customs as the strange behaviors other peoples do, while their own culture’s customs are largely invisible to them (i.e. “That’s just how things are done; it really couldn’t be done any other way.”) So, I guess it’s been most interesting, having returned from living abroad for more than a dozen years, noticing just how many strange and baffling things Americans do.
The implication being that I’m not living it? I’m outraged. Desire for things to be what they aren’t is the mother of all suffering.
I don’t know about “best.” I’ve lived a lot of life. But we went to a Christmas concert in St. Louis Cathedral in New Orleans this past Christmas that was a pretty awesome experience (that I can still remember.)
moving up valley,
fog thickens until there
is only the step.
mountain skies:
fade to a blue so deep
it chills the bones.
Every once in a while,
you see a sight
that makes you say,
"This cannot be
the world I know!"
Tiger Riding for Beginners 