The chilly, damp air encapsulates the fragrance of roasting garlic with such an acute force that I am are practically there, in the little Italian restaurant, folding my napkin across my lap and feeling the steam from the food tickle my face. Passing by the restaurant with my hands stuffed into my pockets, my thoughts stay with that moment for some time, as just like a full-bodied Cabernet, this aroma has a long, lingering finish. 

However, I am forced to depart from that moment by another olfactory distraction from the Indian restaurant down the block. Now, the air is saturated with the smell of tikka masala; easily, my mind envisions a bubbling heavy cream tomato sauce sitting in a large stock pot on the back burner of a small kitchen. An Americanized place, I think to myself, as the rich and heavily scented curry swallows my nostrils. I smile as I jump into a picture of my childhood self, bathing my rice in this stuff every time we ate out at an Indian buffet and always coming home with a tummy ache. That memory makes me laugh.

After what seems like ages, my thoughts turn elsewhere.

There is something fascinating and different about experiencing aromas during cold weather. It is as if the temperature creates some kind of sharp contrast, between the heat of your body, the cold outside, and a warm smell. I don’t know, it just seems as if smells become more noticeable, more striking, even more palatable, within a chilled atmosphere. Any scientists out there with an explanation?

This post is actually supposed to be about teleporting. My dad talks to me often about this idea, at least once a week. He truly believes that it is the next big thing. I always listen and find it amusing, but I am never sure how much I can accept the phenomenon yet. But today, finally, I realize that perhaps he is on to something. Maybe teleporting is just a fancy word for a vehicle that already exists.

On Friday, the pure stillness that filled savasana in my morning class took me to India – that was a lovely two minutes. Yesterday, the filmy Italian buttercream that stayed in my throat from the piece of cake I tasted transported me to grade school birthday parties – can’t say I miss that sensation too much. And just now, I have had two dinners, courtesy of my olfactory system.


Is it really as easy as Bert and Mary from Mary Poppins make it seem?  To simply open a bright umbrella and jump into a sidewalk chalk drawing before the rain washes it away?

Well, it has been raining ever since I awoke, and now it is well past 9pm. Also, my umbrella is not bright, it is gray. And I don’t have a Bert to draw me sidewalk chalk drawings, which is a gosh darn shame. I don’t even have chalk for that matter.

So perhaps it is even simpler. 

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