Fourteen pomelos are the yield of my mountain hike in the forest. It started to rain and I returned utterly soaked and soiled. A pomelo (here they are called pamplemouse, but I don’t know how to spell the French word) is different from a grapefruit. The taste is just delicious, just the right sweetness, not sour, not at all bitter. Not all of them fit into my fruit net, so some of them have to sleep next to me in the aft cabin. The biggest one weighs 2,8 kg (the one on the right on the photo, next to Sissi). Hopefully, some of them will last for 20 days, so that Kirsten can try them in person.
