Smell is the most overrated sense.
I’m probably tempting fate to remove my nose in some ironic twist of fortune, but I have to be honest.
Think of all the great sights you’ve beheld, the glorious music you’ve heard, the magnificent food you’ve tasted, and the delightful objects you’ve touched.
Now think about all the rancid odours that have filtered through your nostrils. Putrid, right?
Worst of all, you can’t help what you smell most of the time. You can close your eyes and cover your ears, but your nose? Sure, you can plug it or breathe through your mouth, but that only lasts for so long. Eventually you need better air circulation and that’s when the smells rush to greet you.
I know, I know, I’m not being fair to the nose. For all the bad smells you meet, you encounter even more wonderful ones. And smell can be one of the strongest triggers of fond (or not so fond) memories. The sense of smell can be quite spectacular sometimes.
But I begrudge the nose because it has been tormenting me for the last four months. It has plagued me with a mystery that drove me up the wall.
Back home, I was used to a variety of odd smells. In Halifax, the salt air mixes with fish and seagulls to create a truly bracing odor. And there are probably dozens of scents I was accustomed to that would drive newcomers utterly batty.
Whenever you move somewhere new, you have to get comfortable with an unfamiliar slate of smells. Usually you can adjust to them and move on with your life. In Saskatchewan, that’s true for me, except for one specific scent.
I was spending my first night in my new apartment. I went outside to toss a garbage bag in the dumpster. I was heading back inside when I first sniffed it: The Smell.
Even now, I can’t quite describe it. Pungent might be the best word. It’s overwhelming and all-encompassing, like a thick blanket. You can practically taste it.
The Smell reminds me of an old breakfast, like an odd strain of oatmeal. It takes me back to eating breakfast before catching the bus to school. I can’t say I enjoy its odor.
I kept finding the Smell all around Yorkton. I’d sniff it in parking lots, highways, parks, downtown, and everywhere else. I was being stalked by a scent.
Sometimes, I’d go weeks without encountering the Smell. But, just like that, it’d come back with a vengeance. Worst of all, I’d always smell it when no one else was around. I couldn’t describe it, so I didn’t mention it to any locals. I started to think it was a nasal figment of my imagination.
But the truth will out. The other day I was driving to Ebenezer with a carload of people. When we hit the highway, like clockwork, the Smell found me.
“What is that?” I asked.
“Canola,” my passenger replied.
The mystery was solved and it was a tad anticlimatic. All my months of madness and the root cause was the oil I use to fry veggies.
Hopefully my next nose conundrum will involve a more pleasant smell.
