Smells in San Franisco

Smells

As I exit the 10 UN building and step onto Market, the bleach-cleaned smells of the classroom walls leave my nose. Of course a million other scents take it's place: The heavy, spicy smell of a man begging for change; the sour, acidic scent of the disinfected fountain water; the charred, dusty smell of exhaust fluttering by.

I make my way down the sidewalk and into the farmer's market. The sweet aroma of a baker's stand fills my nose, only to be replaced a second later by the equally pleasant scent of antiques smelling of history and love. But then a rival smell begins to enter my nose. Slowly at first, creeping in like a morning fog. The sickening stench of the fish stand overwhelms all other smells in the vicinity.

The salty, pungent aroma of the dead fish sweeps across me in waves, some more intense and nauseating than the others. The smells seems like one that would cling to my hair and jacket, spoiling a date by masquerading as a smell emanating from myself. After a few moments standing there, my body begins to adapt to the hostile climate. I realize that the odor of the fish carcasses have many layers and nuances. Sometimes it's more salty, sometimes more peppery. At times it reminds me of the smells of the seals at the wharf, all sweet and buttery. However, the noxious fumes of the dead fish keeps returning to coax a cough or a gag out of me. I decide to leave before I subject the others around me to the smells of my vomit.