subway smells

It goes without saying, especially to blog readers, that the Internet is transforming how we learn about the world. Google, of course, is a major force in this, and from a geographical perspective, both Google Earth and Google Maps are really leading us in new, creative directions. One of the attractions of Google Maps is its openness, its ability to be easily "mashed" together with other sources to create custom maps. For example, I regularly use Google Map mashups to chart out my bike rides and to locate places that sell/serve interesting beer. One of the dozens (hundreds? thousands?) of Google Maps mashups out there is this interesting map of New York City subway smells. I haven't had a chance to explore it very much, but I love the idea. It reminds us that the cultural landscape--or at least the experienced lived-in environment--is not just visual. Instead, it really is derived from all of our senses, and we not only see our surroundings, we also hear, smell, feel, and sometimes even taste them--both for better and for worse. This is one of the great weaknesses of the landscape concept; it overprivileges the visual at the expense of all the other sensual dimensions to our daily experience. This raises the question, though, of exactly how do we tell the geography of smells (or tastes, or sounds, or feels)? Maps themselves are visual items, and even a fully multimedia computer is limited to presenting captured visual images and sounds. Scratch-and-sniff maps? "Smell-evision"? Would we even want such a thing if it were feasible? Or are most smells better kept in their place? (This reminds me of an old episode of the '80s sitcom, "Cheers", where Norm, Cliff, Carla, and the gang debated--as only people drinking around a bar can--the "smelliest" movie of all time. I think "Ben Hur" won, and that is definitely a film I'm rather glad to have seen and not smelled!)