Vikings, Avenue Magazine, September 1993
It was everywhere.
It started upon our arrival, at the airport.
The hotel, the restaurants, the people we met, the van we rented to scout locations. Even the drinking water. Everything seemed to be steeped in it. Hydrogen sulfide, H2S. Sulfur.
The smell from hell, according to some. I don’t know how they found out but this stench was as terrifying as the world below could ever be. It rose from cracks in the earth, like a silent assassin.
After three days we became nose-deaf, like everybody else, and had a great time.
Until I arrived back home, and opened my suitcase.