In one of the notes I wrote in my daily journal while I was in exile at my mom’s place in Canada, I fretted about how I would continue to enjoy my senses with the same intensity after leaving.
“Right now, mom’s sprinklers just turned on, misting the air, and the smell of low tide is reaching me along with the flowers,” I wrote. “I’m wondering how this sensory observation enjoyment will be when I get back to traffic and pollution and electricity bills of a big city.”
I’ve been back in Bucharest for two weeks now and I’ve been working 14 hours a day or more, six days a week, to get my freelance journalism career up and running while making time to visit hectic, crowded government offices to straighten out my visa situation and, importantly, spend time with my daughter, Amy. I’m writing this post, for example, at 3 a.m. on a Saturday.
It’s the quietest time – the click of the keyboard is too harsh and I try to press lightly, with the pads of my fingers. Beyond that, it’s only the hum of the refrigerator and a chorus of crickets. The crickets and the refrigerator seem to be singing in a harmony occasionally drowned out by the hum of the odd distant car.
Happily, I’m finding sensory awareness doesn’t actually take up much time. I’m finding that it simply requires curiosity.
Roxana and I several hours ago went to her mother’s place around the corner to pick up Pufu and Miti – the cats we are babysitting while Roxana’s mom is visiting her home town of Severin. The cats had never been to Roxana’s place before and I enjoyed watching how they explore. We took them this weekend because Pufu has been diagnosed with diabetes and requires steady care.
As all cats, they were nervous at first in a new place and both hid under the coffee table. But the smells drew them out. At first they sought the familiar – the smell of the blankets they sleep on at home, nosing around in their own litter box. Then it was the vinegar and olive oil of my empty salad bowl, discarded chicken bones in the kitchen. Then curiousity drove them to a thousand other smells that are beyond me – the scent of visitors from long ago on the sofa, the odor of my daughter on the stuffed animals.
This Nose Knows
I followed their example when I took a shower a few hours ago, inspired by their noses.
My body wash carried a slightly spicy scent that just barely hid the soapy odor underneath. The whiff of spice probably came from the linalool – an alcohol that can come from birch trees and mint. The bottle says it also contains hydrogenated castor oil and menthol but I couldn’t isolate either with my nose.
So I squirted some body wash in my mouth. For a second, I tasted the spice and tingle of linalool before my mouth was awash with the clingy, soapy taste that must be from the sodium laureth sulfate detergent. I wanted to spit and open my mouth under the warm pulsing water of the shower head. But then, yes, I caught a hint of menthol. I held it a bit longer. I was happy to find the menthol. I’m learning.
Then my shaving lotion. It comes with a green label that touts plant extracts and gives the impression of a natural product. It has the viscous feel of aloe vera on the skin but doesn’t contain any. I think it’s the glycerin. Glycerin at least tastes better than sodium laureth sulfate. I think I also tasted a hint of the ginseng advertised on the package but I’m not sure. I have to buy some ginseng to isolate the flavor.
As part of my quest, I’m preparing a round-the-world tour of the senses to speak to experts and educate my senses.
International Flavor and Fragrances Inc. in New York is a company that designs many of the world’s leading perfumes – and the scents of household products such as the ones I’ve been using. The same expert noses make both, combining scents the way a composer crafts a symphony. I want to learn from them. I want to see how they break down, explain and re-create, say, the smell of Roxana’s skin after she basks in the sun. Or the smell of a wet dog. And ask how certain unpleasant scents can mesmerize when combined, or why grapefruit juice tastes so awful after I brush my teeth.
Another institute that caught my attention – probably one of my first stops – is the Monell Chemical Senses Center in Philadelphia. It’s a 40-year-old institute comprised of dozens of scientists researching taste and smell.
What first intrigued me was their research into early disease detection. They have identified distinct smells to various types of disease, including skin cancer, lung cancer and others. A doctor with a trained nose can actually diagnose you by smell. That’s if you wear no perfume, wash carefully with odorless soap and take other precautions to let your own scent through.
The cats are awake now and they’re bothered by the light of the computer screen. They’ve stopped smelling now, their curiosity satisfied for the night. They already experienced a thousand scents in this apartment that I may never know.
OK. The coolness of cotton sheets and eye-calming darkness beckon. Time to smell my toothpaste and go to bed.
Pufu and Miti appreciate being the “stars” of this episode in the senses saga (as they confidentially told me:). What is amazing for me from the smell perspective is that, as clean as they are – and trust me, you get bored only watching while they clean themselves, they do not like the strong smells like: perfumes, deodorants etc. They will start to sneeze as soon as they pick up the scent of it. Just the opposite, the fresh olives perfume or the Whiskas smell can wake them up from deepest sleep or pull them out from the latest secret hide out spot. I also noticed that they are able to identify bad food, they refuse to eat it if its old. I wish I possess half of their smell ability!