Walking through the woods the other day, the smell of wood smoke and the steady step of my feet triggered a cascade of forgotten moments of my time in Mexico that just tumbled through mu consciousness unbidden, unstructured and joyful.
- The smell of wood smoke, evenings spent walking through the mushy damp streets os Xalapa, prolonging dates that I didn’t want to end, walking down the cobblestoned Callejón del Diamante, entering the cozy warmth of La Sopa, enfrijoladas, beers, ‘totopos & salsas’, jarocho music playing live, friendship and flirting.
- The smell of wood smoke, accompanying me on quiet walks to yoga, early in the morning before the city has woken up. The smell of roasting coffee from Bola de Oro, earthy, bitter & intoxicating mixing with the damp & the smoke to create the unique smell of Xalapa.
- The smell of wood smoke accompanying us as the red VW beetle laboriously climbs the steep mountain to Huautla de Jimenez, where Doña Julieta await us to start the sacred ceremony, saturated with the smell of copal & dampness, earth & bitterness in my nose & in my mouth. And afterwards the restorative traditional hot chocolate that tastes like nectar.