When I was a child of 4 I went to Hawaii with my grandparents. Going back 20 years later, I was immediately struck with the wafting perfumes of the leis as I stepped off the plane. It was then I first felt the amazing rush of nostalgia. Words can hardly describe the poignant memory brought on by smell.

Up the Columbia river gorge from Vancouver is Camas, where there is a sewage treatment plant and a pulp mill. I can recall travelling north across the Columbia river and exclaiming to Jack "Ugh. Veronica's diaper needs changing.", only to arrive home and find it clean. Ah! Camas. (Know what I mean, Mudjack?)

It's interesting about the senses. Some people have more acute senses than others. I know all about that sort of thing, my two children being autistic. I really do believe it is genetic, at least in our case. My dad has quite a keen sense of smell which was hard to bear growing up in Turkey. He tells me about the marketplace smelling like camels and patchouli oil. He always ends his description with a requisite ugh!

Margarita