On the Road with Julie

Time to Read:

My first, “What’s that smell?” post back in Tbilisi, Georgia explored the delight of unexpected aromas. Time to take a deep dive into the other end of the olfactory spectrum.

You see, in China, there are durian.

Have you or have you not heard of durian fruit? If the answer is no, let me illuminate you.

Let’s put it this way, if people throughout history had been throwing durians instead of tomatoes at comedians they didn’t like, the art form would have died long ago – as would have the comedians. A durian looks more like a medieval weapon designed to extract confessions than any kind of delightful thing to be found in a fruit salad. A fruit it is nonetheless.

The outside husk is 1.5cm (.6 inches) of a tough, fibrous material that is nature’s take on thick reinforced drywall. It is covered in 1-2 centimeter pyramid-shaped spikes that menacingly cover its entire surface. It is not just a fruit. It is a weapon.

Oh, and the big ones typically weigh about 3kg or 6.6lbs.

This is a “could-kill-you-if-thrown-at-your-head” type of fruit.

Moral of the story. Don’t piss someone off that is holding a full-sized durian.

And, the fact that a blow to the head with a durian would leave you, at BEST, concussed is not the most aggressive aspect of this well-known ripened tree ovary.

It’s most illustrious quality capable of causing severe offense is that smell.

Now, as I understand it, the verdict is split on the quality of the smell. Durian is called the “king of fruits” by many, especially in southeast asia, and not because it is also capable of causing a beheading or two. There are those that not only don’t detest the smell, but come close to revering it. According to google, there are devotees and enthusiasts round the world that find the scent to be incredibly aromatic, rich, and buttery and a harbinger of the delicious gifts to come from the silky, custardy treat inside.

Then there is the other group. This is the one to which I belong. This is the group that would rather take a nice deep breath in an abandoned morgue in a post-apocalyptic zombie world than catch a whiff of a durian.

This is the story of the night that I discovered in which camp I comfortably reside.

Me and some of my buddies here at the Chinese Language Institute in Guilin were heading home from the local swimming pool (YES! I am swimming here! SO happy!). We decided to stop at a local grocery store on the way home. We all were in a “get in and get out” mode thanks to the fact that the whole store smelled like a rotting sock on top of a dumpster fire of turkey vulture vomit. Not exactly the ambience most preferred for selecting which banana is the right level of ripe for you.

That smell, of course, was the smell emanating from the robust pile of durian available in the fruit section of the establishment. The pile of menacing produce had appropriated all of the air in the room for itself.

On that very same evening, when arriving back to the dormitory style world that is our school after dinner with my new German friend Cornelius, we ran into my new French friend Fabienne. She was excited to have brought home a small plastic package, tightly wrapped to contain its precious contents. A diminutive slice of the custardy insides of this notorious fruit. She was excited to have her first taste of durian and invited us on a sojourn to the kitchen to take part.

It was one of the most disgusting and delightful experiences of my life.

Videos were recorded. Laughter ensued.

Fabienne opened the plastic protection that had been there between us and the powerful fruit inside. It being only a small bit of it, with a little bit of distance, our nose hairs were capable to survive. We both grabbed a slice of the floppy, yellow insides and brought it closer to our vulnerable and unprepared mouths. Located quite nearby, of course, were our nasal cavities. Thusly, the adventure began.

We both squinted and shoved the durian into our mouths before loud screams of repugnance began. Cornelius was laughing watching the madness unfold and pulled out his video to record what he could. Fabienne was jumping up and down in shivers of repulsion. I was screaming, “I don’t like it. I don’t like it.” as I ran to the garbage to find a smell that I could find to be more appetizing and to spit the vileness out before immediately rinsing out my mouth with the closest bottle of water.

It was fantastic.

Fabienne wasn’t ready to be defeated. She took a mind over matter approach, plugged her nose and courageously went in for another bite. This is a famous fruit, and, for many, a treasured delicacy. Fabienne was not ready to be vanquished so easily. With her olfactories protected by the pinch of her nose, she gave the silky pale yellow blob another go and came out of it with a smile (though the faces before that smile were still pretty hilarious). She then convinced me that it was actually pretty good and worth a second try.

Not one to be deterred or defeated by something as simple as disgust, I followed Fab’s inspiring example and accepted the challenge to face the gauntlet again.

Here’s a little extra piece of information about me. I have a very sensitive nose. Once a molecule of smell enters my nostrils, I can generally feel the ripples of aroma and/or odor all the way down to my finger tips. So, for me, this was an epic showdown of wills between me and my pointy-on-the-outside, squishy-on-the-inside fruit foe.

I shuddered my nostrils as closed as possible to face the smell of living death once more.

This is what happened.

It was absolutely fantastic.

Then, of course, Cornelius, our 6-foot and change (that’s 1.84 meters for the global crowd), altitudinous friend, standing a foot taller than Fab and me found himself able to look down at us now in multiple ways as he tackled the durian test with infinitely more grace than either of us (especially I) had displayed. He had put his video camera down and proceeded to put both of us drama queens to shame with a stereotypical level of German stoicism and unemotionality.

He was not a graceful champion either – mocking us with the ease with which he took in a second bit of the yellow blobbiness just to put a finer point on how easy the task truly was.

Of course, it wasn’t a competition (especially because I clearly didn’t win). And, even more so, we were all winners that night. There is nothing that is capable to elicit quiet the same tambor and quantity of joy than the opportunity to laugh at the innocent and fleeting disgust and discomfort of dear friends.

It’s hard not to love a fruit that brought so much joy into my world. How could I detest something that gave me a night of laughter with new friends gathered from around the world in a far-away-from-home place where learning is being pursued and opportunities to live are fully being seized?

So, in the end, I guess I love durian after all.

I just don’t want to eat it.