Olfactory Overload

This post is going to really make me sound like a total tourist... but what can I do.

I am currently experiencing olfactory overload.  Pretty much anywhere one goes in the world, the smells are bound to be different from the familiar ones from home.  But India is just tripping all my circuits.

This is not to say the smells here are bad.  OK, some of them are tear-your-hair-out horrendous, but most of the aromas are actually quite pleasant.  It's just that they are so strong and pop up so suddenly throughout a walk down a typical street that my brain can't manage all the sensory input.

Take for example my walk back to the hotel from my meetings yesterday.  I would have normally taken a taxi, but the ride over had been in one of those tiny natural gas burning taxis that makes someone my size have to sit with his head in his lap in order to fit inside.  So yeah... I opted to walk.

The walk began in a congested area of Mumbai near the main naval base.  Each shop I passed had its own unique and powerful 'offering' to the street atmosphere, and after a little while I decided to walk in the street rather than continually get clobbered by the smells.

Then I noticed that I was walking in the slipstream of a group of young women who had fragrant flowers woven into their hair, and the smell (although delightful) was making me gasp for breath after a block or two.  So I crossed the street (taking my life in my hands from the traffic).  Almost immediately I passed a Hindu temple and the incense and floral smells coming from inside were like walking through a wall. 

I walked over to the synagogue to daven (pray) the afternoon service and was not surprised to find that there was no minyan.  No big deal... I knew from my last visit that they normally only have a minyan on Shabbat... but it is a beautiful 150+ year old building that has seen a lot of history, so I enjoyed just being there.  However the interior of the place had its own mix of smells, from the mustiness of the books to the perfumed memories of more than a century of female worshipers drifting down from the ladies gallery above.  By the time I left, my nose was running and my eyes were actually tearing from the assault.

Then on the way back to the hotel I took a detour down a side street to do some shopping and passed an open sewer where a bunch of men - dressed only in filthy loin cloths - were working with picks and shovels.  The words 'open sewer' in reference to any place in the world are enough to make most readers reflexively wrinkle their nose.  But this sewer line in the heart of Mumbai had last seen the light of day when it was laid down during the British Raj, and it seemed determined to broadcast its rich and ancient history to all passers by.  I almost fainted from the unexpected assault.

Quickly crossing the street (looked the wrong way and nearly got mowed down by a taxi) I passed a leather tanning yard, a fabric dye works, a leather goods store, a perfumery and a chemist, in rapid succession.  With the exception of the tanning yard, none of the smells were particularly bad.  But the massive olfactory stimulus was starting to make me cringe and twitch as though someone were touching me with a live wire.

By the time I neared my hotel I felt like I was one big olfactory receptor and imagined I could smell people walking blocks ahead of me.  Even walking into my hotel and navigating the lobby was full of new inputs.  The flowery perfumes of the saree'd clerks were like stepping on a landmines as I passed the front desk, and the pools of water with blossoms floating on the surface that had been placed throughout the lobby all competed for my nose's attention.

The ride up in the elevator was shared by a group of Korean guests who all seemed to have recently dined on pure garlic and curry, and when I stepped off the elevator a pretty maid was just lighting a lamp in the hallway that contained water and essential oils designed to give off a pleasing aroma (I think it was sandalwood) .   I staggered down the hall to my room.

When I got inside my room and closed the door behind me, all I could smell were the fragrances of the soaps in the bathroom.  And when I finally threw myself on the bed the aromas coming from the bowl of fresh fruit on the side table was nearly unbearable.

When I went to sleep last night I was tempted to take the earplugs I keep with me in case of chatty seat-mates or engine noise on planes, and shove them up my nose.  But in the end I simply buried my head in the cool, crisp (and thankfully unscented) sheets and went instantly to sleep.

This morning I seem to have recovered just a bit.  The fruit bowl smells only like a collection of pleasantly ripe fruit... and the bathroom soaps and shampoos were no more threatening than the ones I keep at home.

But the day is young and I haven't ventured out of my room yet.  Watch my twitter feed for olfactory updates.