Before leaving for Indonesia, a friend asked the boys to tell her 'what Jakarta smells like.' That shock of smell that hits you when you first walk out of the airport.
They said smoke, hotdogs and humidity.
I've been trying to put my finger on it. Of all the things I'm adjusting to, I'm finding the smells the most significant. If colors have 'palettes,' can smells, too? If so, then odors in Jakarta have a completely different palette than I'm used to.
It's waking up to the smell of smoke from somebody's cooking fire among the trees below our bedroom window. The sweet and unusual floral smell of the detergent used to clean our apartment lobby and elevators. The shampoo and bars of soap, the laundry detergent and the mothballs. It's the smell of exhaust, different trees, different flowers, and moisture in the air. It's food cooking in unfamiliar oils at restaurants and malls. And gas that fuels our stove and oven.
We went to Singapore this weekend to get our visas. The air smelled so sweet and clean. In the immaculate subway stations and streets, sweet and clean. It almost smelled like it does on Main Street in Disneyland, where they pump scented air into the streets to make the visitors feel good.
But we landed in Jakarta again this morning, and my body let go of the tension I didn't realize I had been carrying in Singapore. There was that shock of smell. Smoke and hotdogs and humidity. It was familiar. And it surprised me, because for the first time since we left Langley, it felt like we were home.
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