There are few smells more intoxicating than frangipani. Yes vanilla is lovely, and freshly baked bread is certainly comforting, but nothing beats the sensual lazy day smell of frangipani. Back home - and by 'home', I mean my parent's place (does that ever go away?) - the scent of frangipani is what first hits you, followed swiftly afterwards by the wall of humidity. My parents live on the East Coast - smack-bang in the middle of South Africa's tropical zone. It is known for its sandy beaches, lukewarm water and packs of monkeys whose favourite activity is stealing the pawpaws off the trees of unsuspecting suburbanites.
