A sunset is never as pretty through a phone as it is with the naked eye. The same can be said of the moon. A photo of a flower will never convey its smell; a video of your food will never taste good; and the feeling of the elements cannot be captured on camera.
These moments while you travel – yes, even the seemingly fleeting ones – are all once-in-a-lifetime experiences. Yet so many of us (the CF Team included) often don’t pay close enough attention to them, instead in search of the perfect composition for a photo or distracted by the ping of our phones.
This month, we’re exploring the five senses and invite you to join us in slowing down to soak it all in. Perhaps it’s the taste of a dish you’ve never tried; the smell of spring flowers in a budding field; the sound of waves lapping against the shore; the feeling of the sun on your body; or the sight of a fading sunset that you’ll never see again.
As we begin our month of exploration, the Citizen Femme editors share some of their favourite moments while travelling – and describe how paying attention to the senses made each of them so much more memorable.
Sheena Bhattessa, Founder
TASTE
To find only one story of my most memorable meal or taste experience is tough. So many restaurants really use most senses before taste even hits you. They say you eat with your eyes – sight in any dining experience has a huge impact. As does smell – you can sniff something very special wafting from a kitchen before it arrives at your table. Having said that, there is one particular experience where taste not only surprised me, but excelled.
In the middle of Covid, my husband and myself took a mini escape to Positano. The streets were filled with locals, and the restaurants were brimming with Italian voices. The restaurant we really wanted to go do was Da Adolfo but it had just closed for the season. We were recommended Trattoria Da Armandino located on the tiny Marina di Praia cove. Simplicity is key here. The skilled chefs at this establishment craft traditional dishes like risotto and swordfish, and European flying squid and Delizia al Limone. But the one dish that lingers on the memories of my tastebuds is their pistachio cheesecake. Ironically, it didn’t have the visual appeal one would hope, but my Lord did it satiate the appetite. It had the perfect nutty, rich flavour of pistachios with the silky, creamy texture of cheesecake. It’s one I’ve tried to replicate, but to no avail. The taste, the view, the setting – perhaps it was all of them combined that made this taste experience as sensual as one would hope.
Katie Silcox, Managing Editor
TOUCH
I’ve just come back from Puerto Rico where there is a stimulus for all the senses – but the one that truly blew me away was the experience I had at a bioluminescent bay, home to an abundance of microscopic organisms which emit a neon blue-green light when touched.
Let me paint the picture a little better: the sun has just set and I’m sailing through the Caribbean Sea towards a small bay. By the time I reach the bay, the sun has sunk well below the horizon, the sky now a blackish-grey – its only light shining out from a full moon surrounded by wispy white clouds, taking light from the moon. The sea beneath me is an endless dark black. That is, until I jump off the boat and stimulate the light beneath its surface. I move my hands back and forth through the water and its organisms – who respond to my touch with a bright blue glow. I dip my head under the water’s surface to see them glitter in front of me. I swim, spin and splash like nothing else in the world exists, stopping only to make a wish under the full moon.
On this night it felt like nature’s elements – the sea, the moon, the stars and this microscopic bioluminescent species – came together to make a truly perfect moment. One I doubt I’ll ever recreate again.
Becki Murray, Beauty & Wellness Director
SMELL
As much as a certain smell can take us back to memories of a specific holiday, for me the best are those that transport me back to my parents’ home. Wherever in the world I might be, and however much time has passed since I lived under that roof, a single inhale of a familiar aroma can instantly transport me back to my childhood – like an invisible yet unbreakable thread to the past. A burst of lavender and the freshness of rose don’t make me think of relaxation or romance, whatever the marketeers may say. It reminds me of bees and being a little bit brave. The bees are those that buzzed in the bushes planted close to my childhood home during my last year of primary school, which I’d rush past – eyes squeezed shut and terrified of being stung.
That summer is also the reason that the scent of freshly washed sheets and newly cut grass, even at the most luxurious five-star hotel, makes me smile with the impishness of a primary schooler – feeling more energised than any citrus or ginger accord ever could. It’s because they make me think of golf courses, like the one that backed onto my house, and the game my friend and I created: yelling ‘fore’ to an increasingly grumpy set of golfers, before hiding out-of-sight, dissolving into giggles, enveloped in laundry from the washing line.
And it’s not vanilla or soft woods that truly make me feel comforted either. It’s the aroma of freshly roasted olives and homemade tomato sauce. One whiff in a restaurant – even halfway across the world – and I’m back in that bustling kitchen in Berkshire begging my mother and grandmother to make me my favourite pasta regardless of the warm weather outside.
Morag Turner, Citizen Enfants Editor
SEE
There’s something about the view from a very high point. From ski lifts to restaurants perched atop tall buildings, I love a great vista. I love the ability to survey the ground from a great height, and the ‘top-of-the-world’ feeling that it brings. Never have I experienced this more than standing on the very peak of Table Mountain on a recent trip to Cape Town.
Along with family and friends I took the cable car to the summit to catch the sunset, and it was utterly spectacular. The top is a surprisingly large (and flat) area with outstanding views from all sides – views that stretch for miles. In one direction coastline, the sea and Robben Island in the distance; in the other the magnificent Twelve Apostle mountains. Facing away from the sea, the land stretches out towards the vineyards of Stellenbosch and beyond. Directly downwards are the stunning beaches or the city bowl. We spent over an hour gazing out, spotting the landmarks as the sun set and hazy cloud rolled in to create the famous ‘tablecloth’ that so often covers the mountain – taking away our view but creating a new and incredibly atmospheric sight. As we descended, a final scene appeared in the form of millions of twinkling lights that can only be enjoyed when darkness has fully fallen.
Ella Alexander, Fashion Features Director
HEAR
During the pandemic, I worked from Sicily for two months. For part of that time, I was there on my own and one evening, while I was heading out for dinner, I heard the most incredible opera music coming from one of the many, many baroque churches. The Sicilians have as many churches as the British have pubs – to them, they’re the most commonplace things in the world. I followed the sound and came across a very casual opera recital where a man was singing Nessun Dorma. I’m not an opera fan, but it was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard in my life. The power of his voice and the setting combined sent a jolt through me that I’ll never forget.
All the Sicilians were in tears and the standing ovation lasted minutes. The volume of it was unforgettable; the Sicilians do extreme emotion – good and bad – with absolute gusto. I know this will sound dramatic, but I had a good cry too. It was just the ordinariness of it all that blew me away. Sometimes phones are helpful for remembering a moment, particularly for sound: I recorded part of the recital on my phone, and it still gives me tingles when I look back on it.
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