Sounds very very trivial but picking up a phone and understanding what I'm told.
In Polish.
I'm not Polish. I'm not even slavic.
Last september, I was watching a Polish series, at some point there's a piece of cake, they talk about the cake and I'm like "I want that cake now when is the next flight".
Long story short, went to Poland for the goddamn cake, decided that I loved them both Poland, and the cake.
Then I was a bit tipsy at Xmas, paid for Duolingo to resume learning Russian, finally picked up Polish, and 3 months later, I'm in Poland again, have more of the cake + some of its cake comrades, and go to a museum where there's a phone for visitors to pick up, with a propaganda-based recording and I understood what was said. I looked at the phone and thought "what have I become?"
Fast forward 4 more months and I have a polish tutor, and a plan to take an intensive course for 3 months in Warsaw.
Because of a piece of cake.
You wanna know the best part?
When I was back from my cake-motivated trip to Poland, back from the airport to my flat, I weirdly decided to get off at the bus stop before mine. There a polish shop between that bus stop and mine.
I kid you not: who was there, in the window? The cake. The goddamn cake, taunting me with its silly little cherry and cream swirl.
If one day I have a female dog, it'll be called Wuzetka as a tribute to the cake that has made my life a bit spicier albeit grammatically challenging.