What's For Dinner?

The enticing smell of sausage sizzles.

The morning coffee brew drafting from the local coffee shops.

The sweet and buttery delights of freshly baked doughnuts.

The delicious fried aroma of Fish and Chips.

The spicy, pungent and savory smell of Onion rings, Chicken Masala and Pad Thai....

... aged for 48 hours and they're not coming from restaurants serving them, but from the armpits of the lady who sits beside you at the train.

For the past month that I have been here in Auckland, my misadventures consisted of learning English the correct British English way (hence, I spelled DONUTS as DOUGHNUTS) interchanging my E's and I's with that condition I fondly call the Irritable Vowel Syndrome (yes, I was a nurse) and adjusting my olfactory sense to the myriad of aromas in the City --- which includes the insane smell of food in restaurants and food fermented by the human body.

Your Quality Control Officer working at the Deodorant Factory

It still is a wonder to me as to how people here can be so polite and tolerant to body odours. I have had quite a few instances already of riding in the train or bus, sitting next to really skunky males and females and I couldn't help but wrinkle my nose, cover it and in extreme cases just go find another seat. Bummer. I am itching to know whether the sales of deodorants here are still growing in the retail trade because I believe that it is not that popular here. But as they say... "When is Rome, do as the Romans do"  so I am now very much more polite than I usually am and try to feign nonchalance whenever I encounter a very trying situation as this. I am learning to adapt. Little by little.

The other day I took my daily commute via the train, I was thinking of sitting next to this really gorgeous hunk of a guy in suit. He was my Prince Charming, the typical  Adonis I was pining for. It was rush hour and there wasn't any other seat options left. So I thought to myself, "How can Fate be so gracious to me today?" And smiled as I took the seat next to Mr Wickedly Hot. 

As it turned out, Fate doesn't have a good sense of humour because the moment the train's air conditioning blasted off, it wafted this nasty smell straight into my nose, killed my olfactory nerves and took a long time before my brain processed that Adonis has --- drum roll please ---- skunk bomb.

Generally, people here are really nice and friendly and this guy in suit (he's not Adonis to my eyes anymore) started to initiate a conversation. I couldn't drop my fake Kiwi accent to the floor as I had to painfully gag my way into answering him. It was a 6-station ride away from where I'm staying and I could syncopate any time soon if this conversation would go on any further. I wanted to move away but since the guy in suit here (again, no more Adonis to my eyes) started asking me how was my day and things like that, I couldn't budge from my seat.

Until he asked me if I am fond of eating at the Chinese restaurants at the shops.

GUY in SUIT: "I like Chinese food, but I prefer the spicy Indian restaurants though."

ME: "I can tell. Did you just have Chicken Tandoori and Curry?"

GUY: "How did you know?"

ME: "That was your dinner, eh?"

GUY: "No, I had it a day before."

He gave me an amused look. I wanted to gag. Again and again. But still, I managed to smile. I can smell what he just had for dinner... 2 days ago.

I have mastered the art of spacing my breathing. I still have a lot of smelling to do in the future. And I'm practicing now by correctly guessing what's for dinner... the other day.

XoXo