*Smell, and Smile!*

Rain on a hot sidewalk. Cinnamon in the streets. Coconut scented dogs. Believe it or not, some people take these scents for granted in their daily lives. For example, I never see my Bolivian friends pause for a moment to realize that their dog smells like a dessert and their sheets like air, not Downy. So why is it such a big deal for me? I’m sure you’ve heard that when one sense is taken away, the others are heightened. It’s also true that when one’s situation becomes so completely opposite, the senses explode. Well, my situation has definitely changed, and my nose is having a blast…usually… trying to discern each new scent.
I’ll start with people. The Cruceños* are very fashion conscious people. We produce more beauty queens than all of the other Bolivian cities. There are hair salons on almost every corner, and almost all of my female friends carry their Victoria’s Secret* lip-gloss at all times. Image, however, is not enough. They have to smell good. Most girls bring a bottle of body spray to school and spritz it on between classes, or just when they’re bored. And the boys…aah, the boys. Do you remember sixth grade, when the boys first discovered Axe*? They’d spray it everywhere. Entire hallways reeked of the stuff. As they matured (age wise only, for the most part) their colognes morphed: a little more musk here, something slightly spicy there. Even so, they all still smell a little bit of that Axe-iness that I first came to associate with guys. Here, the same thing happened. I don’t know what the original scent was, or how it’s changed, but the guys all have that general yummy guy cologne smell. It’s just not Axe; it’s different. Probably what Axe and its cousins would smell like if they were born in South America.
Now, from the people, to the streets. The street perspective is important here, since the smells are completely different if you’re in the car, or out. Due to the heat, I usually ride with my window down. Something about the speed, or maybe it’s the elevation, wipes out all scents but dust and exhaust. I hate the exhaust, but when a smelly micro* isn’t in front of me, which is usually, the dust is kind of nice. It smells baked, like dried grass, and hot leaves. The feeling it brings is so warm, though that may just be the sun on my arm.
Being in the middle of the roads, with the people, is what really smells good. Yesterday I went to a little town called Cotoca. We walked from the outskirts to the center of town. Thirty seconds into our walk, Lauren, a fellow exchange student, said, ‘’I smell cinnamon!’’ It was true. The air was edible, though no food vendors were in sight. We continued until we were in the heart of the market. There, food is everywhere, so of course our noses feasted. Mine got a little confused because while passing an Arroz Con Leche* stand I saw a couple cuts of meat hanging on hooks in the open air. When we got to the actual cafeteria, it was even crazier. To get your food, you simply sit down at one of the long tables. Various vendors call the names of their food, and you yell what you want. Everything is cooked then and there. From my seat at a table, I saw corn and cheese cakes frying, meat ka-bobs turning, and soup boiling. Underneath all the food scents was the horsy-dirt smell that is everywhere. Speaking of horses, as we walked to leave Cotoca, the most interesting aroma permeated the air. I thought it was something akin to horse manure. Melissa swore it was pot. Dalton could smell onions. We’re thinking the horse ate pot and onions, and nature took her course. Stranger things have happened, right?
Besides the obvious, little things catch my nose (pardon the phrase.) Sun dried laundry, for one. Who would think that such a neutral scent could be so appealing? Then there is Pelusa*, my dog. He gets baths with human shampoo, hence the coconut. The bathrooms all have their own unique scent also. Surprisingly, it’s not disgusting. I thought throwing used toilet paper away would make bathrooms reek, but they smell like regular bathrooms, for better or worse. There’s more: the wood supporting part of the stage in my moment of backstage nerves, my hands after petting a non-coconutty dog, the salon where I got my first ever manicure. It’s these scents that will remind me of Bolivia after I leave. Studies show memory is strongly connected to scents, so I’m hoping that someday after this adventure, I’ll smell something familiar, and relive tons of memories. After all, my senses have been strengthened, and I’m praying my memory along with them.

*Helpful vocabulary:
Crucenños: Santa Cruz-ians
Victoria's Secret: Popular chain store, famous for its lingerie
Axe: Overused men's cologne...It smells pretty good.
micro: Micro-bus. When I first arrived I thought they were just buses for huge familis. No, they are one of the main forms of public transportation. They have terrible exhaust systems.
Arroz con Leche: Literally translated means ''Rice with Milk.'' Like a rice pudding.
Pelusa: Literally translated, it's ''fluff'' or ''lint.'' It's also the name of my little white poodle. I'm guessing it's the Spanish version of ''Fluffy.''