Walking down a street in Jaipur smells like this:
Outside the hotel there's a sickly sweet raw-meat smell from poultry shops that makes me choke. There are also huge open bins that smack you in the face with the sour smell of rubbish; it reminds me of how the grounds smell at the Reading festival after a few days.
Along the shopping arcade there is the earthy smell of turmeric, the fruity tang of dried chillis. Peppery sour smells from a pickle shop, the acrid smell of urine from a public urinal. From the sweet shops I get a seductive waft of sugared batter.
Round the corner is the wonderful smell of fried bread from a row of street vendors, and then a waft of jasmine from men making religious flower garlands.
Everything is lightly dusted in the smell of earth from the road.
Outside the hotel there's a sickly sweet raw-meat smell from poultry shops that makes me choke. There are also huge open bins that smack you in the face with the sour smell of rubbish; it reminds me of how the grounds smell at the Reading festival after a few days.
Along the shopping arcade there is the earthy smell of turmeric, the fruity tang of dried chillis. Peppery sour smells from a pickle shop, the acrid smell of urine from a public urinal. From the sweet shops I get a seductive waft of sugared batter.
Round the corner is the wonderful smell of fried bread from a row of street vendors, and then a waft of jasmine from men making religious flower garlands.
Everything is lightly dusted in the smell of earth from the road.
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