Spices for the Gods

Avignon took us to a Catholic cathedral, Kyoto to a Zen shrine, and now, amid Hindu mysticism, desert spices, and ancient trade routes, we arrive at the fragrant tapestry of Jaisalmer.

The opening smells distinctly culinary: cinnamon, cardamom, and sun-baked woods, touched by a subtle berry sweetness. It evokes the aromas you might imagine drifting through a desert spice market, or just as easily, your local Indian store.

As it settles, the incense begins to emerge, gaining strength without ever becoming ecclesiastical or austere. Instead, it’s warm and peppery, curling through the spice market with an elusive airiness. Beneath it, ambered, vanillic resins gently hum, softening the sharper edges of the spices.

It’s not the kind of scent I associate with traditional places of worship, but with a little imagination, I picture kitchen hands hurriedly roasting spices to feed hungry pilgrims: pepper and warmth mingling with the gentle drift of incense filling an ebony-laden prayer room.

While it leans a little too heavily into culinary spice for my tastes, I still thoroughly enjoy the journey through vibrant markets and ancient temples.