As I ride along in Central Asia on a moto, one thing I can't escape is the smell or smells of the places through which I ride. I love the smells of the open countryside, of hay being cut, or fruits stacked along the roadside. It's the villages, though, providing variety. Wood smoke, food cooking, open water, fresh laundry, sometimes the smell of open sewers, garbage and so on.
But there was one smell the source for which I couldn't figure out. It was rancid, awful smelling stuff. Kind of like bad fish cooked in garlic sauce. Sometimes I would get a whiff in the countryside too, and I was really puzzled. I didn't care for it, that was certain.
I finally figured it out: it is my riding jacket. It may be reaching bio-hazard status soon!
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