Kerala. The Smell of Rain.
With a gentle essence of petrichor filling my lungs - I then decided to start “The Smell of Rain”
Petrichor, or simply the smell of rain, is a beautiful example of a physical occurrence manifesting itself into a grounding earthy feeling. It is as if rain was whispering to you to remember it.
There are certain places in the world that can do that too. They offer something beyond simply a look - they touch our deeper, less cerebral senses.
My last trip to India, while staying with Vikram’s family in Kerala, offered a glimpse into the effortless placemaking and hospitality. His dad created a home that would imbue a sense of serenity and warmth. A place that manifested itself into a feeling. A place where each guest would be nurtured in their own way. During our afternoon tea times on the veranda, with the rain gently washing the porch, papa would tell stories of the home becoming. He would indulge in describing the corners of each room and the intricate details. He gently laughed in an attempt to count all the elated guests that ever stayed. Papa passed away on that same trip during the monsoon season. Leaving his humble creation to generations of wandering souls.
With a gentle essence of petrichor filling my lungs - I then decided to start “The Smell of Rain”, an online publication that relishes our deeper human engagement with the design, travel, hospitality and culture.
Petrichor, or simply the smell of rain, is a beautiful example of a physical occurrence manifesting itself into a grounding earthy feeling. It is as if rain was whispering to you to remember it.
There are certain places in the world that can do that too. They offer something beyond simply a look - they touch our deeper, less cerebral senses.
My last trip to India, while staying with Vikram’s family in Kerala, offered a glimpse into the effortless placemaking and hospitality. His dad created a home that would imbue a sense of serenity and warmth. A place that manifested itself into a feeling. A place where each guest would be nurtured in their own way. During our afternoon tea times on the veranda, with the rain gently washing the porch, papa would tell stories of the home becoming. He would indulge in describing the corners of each room and the intricate details. He gently laughed in an attempt to count all the elated guests that ever stayed. Papa passed away on that same trip during the monsoon season. Leaving his humble creation to generations of wandering souls.
With a gentle essence of petrichor filling my lungs - I then decided to start “The Smell of Rain”, an online publication that relishes our deeper human engagement with the design, travel, hospitality and culture.
