“The first time I thought about the scent of Palm Springs, I was in another desert, one nearly 7,700 miles away. I was staying in a military ambulance that had been converted into a camper, parked for the night among the rugged rock and dramatic canyons of Wadi Rum, Jordan.
It rained during the night. By the time I awoke, the lunar-like landscape had been transformed. It was like a funhouse version of a desert, the puddles reflecting golden hills and sandstone formations, nature’s mirrors slipping mountains under my feet.
However, the view wasn’t the only thing that was topsy-turvy. The smell was also disorienting…”