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Travel memories, like treasure troves of the mind, require very little to seep back into our lives; a rhythm, a colour, a smell, a taste, an emotion… I can see myself standing there, browsing the outdoor market at the base of the Cliff, admiring the beauty of the women wearing the striped indigo loincloths that tell of their marital status. I can taste the tart yet sweet red hibiscus flower beverage. I can smell the captive humidity of the arid soil, the exotic wood carvings of a sculpture, the stretched leather of a djembe drum… such are the olfactive memories that embody Pays Dogon: textured, raw and authentic.