Previous Post
If taste reminds us of where we are, then smell is what lingers long after we’ve gone.
Tonight, Konstantinos, our chef, is making barbecued fish on an outdoor grill here at the villa. This is a welcome repeat from last year’s menu. I remember the smell of the outdoor grill, with fish sizzling over charcoal. The scent rose in waves — smoky, briny, with a hint of lemon and herbs. It’s the smell of the sea transformed into a meal, the kind of scent that tucks itself into memory so deeply that years from now, one whiff will bring me right back here.
And then, there are the softer scents of the island.
A jar of handmade beeswax hand cream, bought from a woman-owned business, smelling like calendula and honey warmed by the sun, earthy and sweet at the same time, a scent that lingers on my skin long after I’ve left the market.
And along walled gardens, the herbs are generous. Break off a piece of rosemary, and the air fills with its sharp, resinous perfume. It’s a scent that clings to your fingertips, bright, grounding, alive.
Smell is the most powerful sense for memory. Maybe that’s why Greece stays with me long after I leave. The salty breeze whispering in the morning, the jasmine blooming at night, and ever-popular grilled corn wafting at the stand. They weave themselves into the story of this island, and into my story, too.
This is the final piece in my little sensory series from Zakynthos — after sight, taste, and sound, now smell. I hope that you’ve felt like you were walking alongside me for a few steps of this journey.
Travel isn’t just about where we go, but how it awakens every part of us. Over the last four posts, I shared Greece through sight, taste, sound, and smell. I’d love to know — which sense brings back your strongest memories?
Read the whole series:
