Tourists (and I include myself in this) seek out opposition to their identity. That is the fundamental description of ‘novel’. Not opposition in an aggravated way, but in a way that makes them feel as if they are undergoing a unique experience – non-mundane. Wet country people go to dry places, hot to cold, desert to forest. The novel is what makes us enjoy a place as long as we are relatively safe and can sleep undisturbed. The mind is lit by synapsis clapping hands, it generates creativity and illuminates dormant parts of the mind.
There are times though when locals start reacting like tourists.
Here in Namibia, it happens during the first seasonal rain in springtime, normally early September. It plays out like this; a few non descript clouds come together like they are having a 30 year school reunion. At first they don’t really know how to talk to each other anymore, but as more arrive they are forced together and awkward conversation starts happening as gossip spreads about Stratus picking up some weight and Cumulus who didn’t even bother to show up. Next moment Mr. East-Western shows up, rounds up the stragglers who have been sitting in the corner contemplating leaving and the antisocial white tufts clump together and become a shindig grey. With a thunderous clap he pronounces the reunion open and you stare up at the occasion as a fat confetti raindrop hits you on the cheek.
Namibia flings its windows and doors open, people laugh and compliment life, the earth, mother nature, as her petrichor is triggered and a whole nation inhales a big gulp of pure joy. To a dry country like Namibia, with a winter season where the general humidity will force the most premium daycream to rewrite its own product description from ‘lasting 12 hours’ to ‘lasting until now-now … if you’re lucky’, those first drop’s smell is a holiday. It makes people feel as if they are visiting somewhere else for a moment, tourists without having to move a meter! Apparently we humans have a very specific olfactory receptor called OR11A1. It is designed to pick up the smell of a thing called geosmin, the natural compound which creates the unique smell of petrichor. If you would drop a single teaspoon of geosmin into an olympic size swimming pool, humans would have no trouble detecting it, making our noses even more sensitive than that of a shark detecting blood in water. Now surely sharks smell blood to obtain a nibble or seven, but what are we to do with our strange superpower? Scientists theorize that we used petrichor to move after areas where rain fell in search of resources like fresh plant growth and high concentration of huntable game. Thanks to modern convenience, the need for those resources have long passed, yet we retained the special ability to go on a tiny little vacation each time those first raindrops fall!