As soon as the plane heads over the waters of Jamaica, I have to feast my eyes pon the beauty of the wata, and the land, My Beloved Jamaica comes into sight and I inhale deeply and I can smell the Sea,the heat, the sun, I can smell Jamaica. Perhaps a figment of my imagination but it is real to me, and I can't wait for the doors to open and the full smell and heat hits you in the face like a rambunctious puppy full of love, slobbering as well. The Sweet Kiss of Jamaica.
The smell of Jamaica. As you walk that long hallway to freedom you pass open doors and you peek out and the trees seem to sway like dancers beckoning you into their dance of welcome. You get your stamp, pick up your luggage and speed walk out of the door full force into the mystical arms of your beloved as you turn your nose into the embrace and get the full force of the cologne like scent of your lover. Sweet Jamaica.
You are home, you are here, you have come back to Jamaica. Sadly I have grown so accustomed after being here for over a year that I find I can no longer smell the intoxicating aroma, unless I go closer to the sea. I realised this today and it made me sad. Being one with this place has always been my edge, I want it back, I hope my sense of smell is not gone, because there is nothing like the combination of the smell of the Sea, the salt, the fish, the sun as it caresses your skin and engulfs you in a warmth like no other place. A distinct sweet smell all its own.
The smell of Jamaica.
Come back, Please.