#iamanose

[ashleydesilvaa-blog]

2.2 The College Scent

Walking around Manila has never been a fragrant experience. The capital city offers its typical smell of smoke, waste and vomit. It’s a gruesome gift to anyone’s nostrils, but a peculiar reminder to me of my years in college. 

Despite its horrifying mix of scents, Manila’s odor reminds of my daily commute. With the cuffs of my cardigan, I would cover my nose and walk as swiftly I could to get to school where I can breathe comfortably. Unfortunately, up to this day, I still can’t take it.

[yeahsoinanutshell]

2.7 Dimsome

Wednesday. Night. Wan Chai.

Time to celebrate with a night out. We all sat there, waiting for our orders. It took a while before we got our food. We were sitting at that side which had the live seafood. I could smell the murky water from the aquarium, the seasoning that I suppose were black beans, black vinegar, soy sauce, and the fresh-out-of-the-baul smell of the table cloth that every chinese restaurant kind of has. This odour always comes around during Buwan ng Wika. Whenever I needed to look for my Filipiniana costume and wear it during grade school. That was always fun, and I look forward to it. I wish we could still do that.

[yeahsoinanutshell]

2.6 No Summer Wax

Tuesday. Morning. Jeep.

I made my way to the seat nearest to the driver and looked out the window as I waited for it to move. The breeze brushed my cheeks, along with it the aroma of tropical fruits, trash-filled-canals, and smoke from an outdoor grill along Blumentritt.

Apart from this was a different fragrance and it surprisingly came from this man in a powder blue button-up polo who just boarded the vehicle and sat beside me. To me men's perfume generally smell the same. But I knew for a fact that this time it wasn't the case - it was the wax on his hair. I don't know why, but my nose says it is a little bit different. It's odd when it's in the container it doesn't smell as good, but when it reaches the head of some guy it becomes amazingly nice. My older brother seldom uses it, mostly my younger brother does. He wears it before going to school, so I only get a sniff during the school year. When there's no wax-on-the-head-smell, I know it's still summer.

[yeahsoinanutshell]

2.5 Sweatshop

Monday. Mid-afternoon. LRT. Once I step foot onto the threshold of the train, I knew that I was in for a long ride. The air conditioning of the train was down. The air was thick, and hard to breathe in. Suffocating in one word. The stench of wet socks, overpowering cologne, and - for some odd reason - beef.

Although, what takes the cake is the smell of sweat that varied with each person and  accumulated in just one mighty whiff of my nose into a grand stench. It smelled like a combination of a person who ran a marathon, put on perfume to mask the stench, who apparently had shawarma for lunch and probably forget their deo that day. It was like being in a crowded gym and using equipment draped with sweat from the previous user. It sticks to my hands. Imagine having that stench hovering around for thirty minutes. Oh, joy.

[manaloshey]

2.7 Marker Addiction

I was in the study hall of the place. It was a closed area but open for anyone in the building who’d like to study or do home works in larger tables. It was airconditioned.

I was reading an article for my GENDERS class when someone who was busily writing on blank papers removed the cap of a black marker. On the table were other kinds of marker. The stench of gasoline mixed with glue filled my nose. It was addicting. Suddenly, the place smelled like a newly painted hall or an office. To some, it may cause headache but this is the kind of smell that I’d gladly inhale for the next few minutes without being bothered. I knew it contained chemicals that would be bad for one’s health. It was addicting that I needed much of it. But too much of something is bad.

So much so it was distracting. I thought I sat there for about five minutes and halted from reading.

The addicting smell of a permanent marker reminded me of the old school way of reporting back in my first year of high school. While some teachers required Manila paper, I always preferred using cartolina. It was not just because of different colors but it also kind of brought out the smell of marker when I write on it. Or maybe it was just me. I liked the smell of Pentel, to be specific. Whenever I bent down to write my report on the blank cartoline, I would always smell this familiar stench. It may be unpleasant, but I didn’t usually encounter the smell these days.

We reported using power point presentations. Gone were the days of marker and cartolina.

[manaloshey]

2.6 Smokers and Smoking

I stood in front of the place I stay during school days. Nothing’s new. There was always that one distinct smell: smoke.

Teenagers about my age, or a few years younger, smoking—this was a usual sight along the side of the streets. However, I’d never get used to this, ironically. The smell of the lighted cigarette was damaging. The way the smoke made its way into my nose and the way it flowed to my system eliminated all the reasons to stay standing on the same ground as these smokers. It was an unpleasant smell, it made me want to cover my nose rudely. It was toxic but I stood there and held my ground like a bystander.

Smoking was a habit I could never separate from the entirety of my siblings. They were smokers. I love my siblings and I should somehow force into my liking what they want. I accepted, though hardly, that my siblings started to smoke about four years ago—both of my brother and sister. I should get used to the place that reeked of smoke but I never would, I thought. Whenever I smell the lighted cigarette from any stranger smoking, much to my distaste, I remember my siblings. Instead of glaring at these people, I always ended up breathing in the second-hand smoke like it never bothered me at all. I wanted to let these smokers know I accepted what they do.

But not the smell of what they do.

[yeahsoinanutshell]

2.4 Sleepovers

Sunday. Late Evening. Movie Theatre. I excitedly entered the movie house and nestled myself in those inclining red chairs that cradled me like a child. My eyes grew wide first, but then I noticed the food that was being passed around. The aroma of freshly popped popcorn, lingering cheese from chips and the surmounting stench of chopped onions.

The stench of onions, that seem to come from the pizza overpowered them all. It was strong and creeped through my nostrils with each whiff of air - no matter its distance. Although, I'm not bothered by it. It's just too strong that it stays too long in my nose. It's funny cause it reminds of sleepovers, ones where we don't really sleep. Just chatting, laughing and chomping down on delivery-pizza. 

[yeahsoinanutshell]

2.3 Mommy Cely

Saturday. Evening. Renaissance. Once I stepped out of the glass door, the rush of the cold breeze brushed my nostrils. I made my way to the seats beside the pool and could make out a light scent of chlorine, earthy leafy smell of plants and refreshing aroma of various flowers. 

Although, there was a fragrance that was distinct among them and it was that of sampaguitas. Even though the pool water was nearby, the overwhelming smell was not the strong odor of chloride. There were no flowers of this kind at the poolside garden, none that I can see. This smell was also like soap, the white kind that has this fresh scent. It reminded me of my grandmother whenever she would beso me, she always had this scent of sampaguitas and soap that seemed to be her natural musk.