Lately it seems I’m fascinated by the smells of faraway lands—from Tibet to Hong Kong. I can also recall the smells I experienced in New Zealand, The Gambia and the Arctic Circle of Sweden. The time spent in these countries has had a massive influence on who I am today, and in a round-about way the smells have too.
I can’t pretend to remember what the smells were exactly like when I was 17 in New Zealand, or even when I was 15 in Pennsylvania, US, but they obviously left a great impact in my mind, in that familiar/unfamiliar subconscious way smell does. Why else would a particular nuance of fresh air remind me of New Zealand in one breeze and of Geneva, Switzerland in another?
Going through my smell diary I notice that I’m noting down more smells of fresh air than usual. Coming into Spring, this is bound to play on my perception as it is easier to detect smells when it’s warmer instead of colder. Although, there is something about the clearest, coldest arctic air—in itself it is so cool and still.
Alpine Air
Two weeks ago I caught whiff of the rain after it fell overnight. On my way to work, stepping off the Luas the after-rain smell lifted me right out of Dublin and threw me right onto a train journey in Geneva I had in 2005. I over-hear and read a lot of people say that one of their favourite smells is, in the summer after a rain-shower the tarmac giving off a warm concrete odour. I have to say, this after-shower rain smell is not like that. It was more mountainous, more ominous, more alpine, more misty and more aquatic.
The train journey was with my sister and we were heading to a German town in Switzerland and to me, this smell was typical of a Siws picturesque postcard moment—the fields, the cows, the houses and the fir trees dotted around. I have a fascination for mountainous forests and meadows and on that journey, with the windows open I distinctly remember that smell. I liked that day that it was on again, off again rain, that it was cloudy and dark and slightly looming. We were comfortably dry in the train with lots of leg room!
American Air
In a different instance last week I had another post-Luas moment with the rain and I was reminded of my 16th birthday in Pennsylvania. I celebrate my birthday with America’s and on the 4th July I spent mine in Jim Thorpe, what a lovely coincidence that it is called the “Switzerland of America.” I can’t recall on this occasion what was so special about the air there. It was probably typical of an American summer, warm and slightly humid. And I also can’t put my finger on why I was reminded so powerfully of there and then either stepping off the Luas.
This is what is so fascinating about smell, it’s familiar and unbelievably personal one moment, and in another, so distant and full of longing.
Chinese Air
I also remember the smell of air and rain and humidity all over China. In certain places it was more damp and moist than other places. Standing at the foot of a plungpool of a waterfall on the Yangtze River the smell of the spray was incredibly refreshing and warming at the same time. That humidity mingling with the water was strangely pleasant on an otherwise hot day.
There were times when the smell of the sea air in Hong Kong was slightly briny and salty but it was warm and not like the Irish sea air I’m use to—you could smell the harbour and petrol fueling the boats. There was a time when the wet smell of the rains in Changsha couldn’t be further than depressing, it was actually refreshing in a city I absolutely hated. There was even the smell of a dream come true.
I think of all the smells that is hardest to pin down, fresh air has to be it. It has so many different facets, so many different varying degrees of coolness, freshness, pleasantness, dampness, cleanliness and pureness.
