The Daily Assault on my Nose

A little over a week ago I deplaned in Li Jiang.  A (by Chinese Standards) small town nestled closely to the Tibetan Plateau.  When Roberto (my co-worker’s husband) and I took our first breaths in the open air, we became giddy with happiness.  Be breathed in deeply, laughed and shouted, “It doesn’t smell!  It’s so fresh!” I think I skipped a bit on the way to baggage claim.  I was drunk on the unpolluted rarified air.

Contrast that with this morning in Shekou.  When I stepped out my front door I was knocked over by the metallic taste and smell of factory pollution.  We had a rain last night, so that pleasant smell was mixed with a bit of dankness.  When I entered the elevator, a nice heavy cloud of cigarette smoke greeted me.  No one was smoking at the time, they just left me a nice little present. Thanks, jerk.

There is no kind way of saying this: Shekou stinks.

Daily, I take in smells that you can’t really imagine if you haven’t lived here.  But in talking with other Shekou-ites, you know exactly what they mean when they say, “You know the corner that smells like rotting fish and acrid sea water?”.  Or, “It smelled like rotting trash and hot urine in Old Shekou today.”

I hope my description gives you an idea of what this is like, but truthfully, I am not that good of a writer to fully express this sensory kick to the gut (or nose, if you will).

There are a few respites within Shekou.  My apartment, when it doesn’t smell like fried fish from the apartments around, smells a nice mix of vanilla and cinnamon.  Well, besides the bathroom… which by NO fault of my own just about constantly smells of sewer.  Chinese apartments are built without traps or U-bends in the plumbing.  So what goes down comes back up in scent form.  And sometimes it comes back up quite literally. So, I guess you’d have to take my apartment of the respite list.

The spa I go to to get massages doesn’t smell horrible.  They place a nice bowl of something citrusy under my face when I lay on the table.  So, that’s nice.  It is kind of awful though when they burn the incense in the afternoon that smells quite like burning marijuana. Well, unless you like that kind of thing.  So let’s call that a part time respite. 

I can just about always count on the coffee shops.  I’m currently sitting at Ande’s Café… directly next to the air purifier.  It smells delightfully of coffee and toasting bagles.  When I stick my nose in my coffee, I get a nice hint of vanilla.  This is a respite.  This works for me.

Just as long as that front door stays shut.