The Smells and Sounds of Home

When I stepped off the plane at the Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport, the thing that struck me immediately was the smell. There was none! Simply put, there was no body odor; no sting of wafting urine; no pungent smell of curry; and not choking thickness of pollution. It just smelled like air. To be honest, after 7 months, I had forgotten what air smelled like. The air smelled so good, in fact, I rented a big orange convertible and happily drove into the city taking in the smell of cut grass and back yard BBQs. It was bliss.



The next morning, we put the top down again and trundled off to our favorite Minneapolis breakfast place, The Grand Café, to smell more cut grass. We slowly cruised through the neighborhoods of South Minneapolis enjoying the sun and relaxed Sunday morning atmosphere of Lake Harriet. I had lived here for 4 years, but had never really appreciated how perfect this area was.


What also strikes you is how empty the streets are. Even at Lake Harriet on a Sunday, which is considered a busy time, the paths and byways seemed almost deserted. My street, as well, seemed almost ghostly with a car passing every few minutes. It does take a little while to adjust to not being surrounding by 13 million people, albeit a short while.


And then there is the silence. No horns; no vegetable guy chanting; no engines humming - just the birds and the clean wind sharing space in the trees and people quietly going about their walk or bike ride enjoying the summer.

I know that for those of you that live in the US, this is no big deal, but for those of us that have relocated to the bowels of the earth, this is Shangri-La, if only for a few weeks.