Something Smells

A few years ago while in Chicago, we were walking through a very Mexican neighborhood in Chicago.  Tonya made a comment about how strange it was that this particular neighborhood smelled like Mexico.  To me, it smelled like an old rotting grease trap and trash, and maybe a whiff of some sort of fried food wafting through the air.

Fast forward to the here and now.  While sitting at a traffic light my eye caught a family waiting to cross the street.  There was the mom and dad, a small child and two young kids.   We were sitting still, but they had the light to go ahead and walk.  I noticed the mom right away.  She was a bit pudgy, and started off across the street with a bit of a waddle.  She was wearing an ill fitting yellow t-shirt; this is what really caught my eye.  As she was even with me, she turned slightly to hurry up the two young children.  Stretched across the dirty yellow t-shirt was a slogan.  A slogan which any woman in her right mind should not be wearing.  It big black letters, the letters warped and twisted across her belly: SOMETHING SMELLS.  I laughed out loud and immediately went to slap Tonya on the arm to see what I have just seen.  We both laughed as the woman sped her waddle up and made it to the other side safely.  This is significant for a few reasons; one is, you can always be guaranteed a laugh when people wear shirts that they have no idea what they actually say, and secondly; because the shirt tells a tale.  The woman may smell, but more importantly, this city does!

It is not impossible to recall the smelly neighborhood in Chicago.  It did smell like Mexico City. Stinky.  I had heard fables of these ‘brown clouds’ of pollution which helped stink up the place, but I had no idea just how smelly it is.

This whole thing baffles me.  As a rule, Mexicans are clean people.  They are always cleaning; their cars, their sidewalks, their homes. Laundry is seen hung everywhere.  One would think with all these people cleaning and keeping things clean, that this place would smell nice and fresh. No.  In actuality, you just get the sickening smell of Fabuloso trying to drown out the smell of …Mexico City. 

Everywhere you go, you will get pummeled with an overwhelming stench.  At times, especially downtown, this stench will almost literally slap you in the face.  I am not exaggerating when I say that sometimes these unexpected nose fulls of stench literally have taken my breath away.  Yes, I am one of those nerds who will actually hold his breath while traversing through parts of the city.

Don’t get me wrong!  Walking down any street in any neighborhood, you are sure to catch a whiff of some lovely and enticing food being cooked up on the street or right next to it.  This is always a pleasant welcome, and often times, gets the saliva going.  It is hard resisting the temptation to scarf up so much of this stuff.  You may be lucky, and stroll past a flower market.  This can provide a brief respite of some natural freshness.

However, I am going on record to say that the smell of Mexico City can be divided and distinguished into almost three perfect parts; exhaust, garbage and Fabuloso.  Interestingly enough, I have not really noticed the ‘black booger’ syndrome one easily gets while riding subways…perhaps because my travel underground is limited.  Sitting in traffic one day inhaling exhaust and feeling our brain cells rot away, Tonya and I discussed how living here breathing in this endless supply of filth, will surely land one with any number of respiratory problems.  It is inevitable.  Funny to note, that supposedly Mexico City’s pollution has gotten better.  It is now Monterrey who has picked up the baton as leader in suffocating pollution.

It never really works when one smell battles another to become victor.  It is always a bit nauseating to get a nose full of filth and immediately then get an overdose of overly sweet chemicals, supposedly meant to cleanse and freshen the air.  This just adds to the putrid mélange of smells which can make your head spin…of find you heaving and gasping for fresh air.

Tonya grew up here, for her this is home.  Granted, she has spent more time in the States than here, but she has spent enough time here to know the smell of home.  Heck, she even recognized it when in Chicago!  It never fails to make me laugh and at the same time shake my head with disbelief when randomly, while in the city, Tonya will smell something quite stinky and strong and pose the question, “Did you just fart?”

My replies are always the same. “No” then I cannot help but add some smart-alec remark like “That is the lovely smell of home honey” or “Nope, that is Mexico baby!”  I know it is simple thing, but I am amazed at how one can be raised in this stench and still get a nose full of Lord knows what and ask if I farted.  How can you distinguish the two?  How can a smoker even think they can tell the difference between the fine scent of a rotting grease trap topped with decay and the smell of a ‘bottom burp’?  Surely you can tell the difference between my butt and the smell of home-or, maybe not.

Like the fat lady’s shirt said, ‘SOMETHING SMELLS’, it’s not just her, it is this city.