I stepped off the plane in Ponta Delgada just as green as the magnificent island around me. I had come for adventure and experience, to live the life of a pre-med student abroad, shadowing doctors in a hospital in the Azores. In the weeks prior to arriving, I was savoring the vision I had conjured in my head. I had just finished my second semester of accelerated Portuguese and was ready to speak with the staff I was scheduled to follow. On top of that, I would be staying on the beautiful island of São Miguel, largest of the nine islands in the archipelago. I was the youngest of my fellowship group and despite my enthusiasm; I still had much to learn. I was there to learn from the medical professionals, but in the end the greatest lessons I learned came from outside the hospital.

The program ensured we were getting the most of our experience by taking us on excursions, not only to see the incredible views, but to also immerse ourselves in the local culture. We went on daytrips to every part of São Miguel. Each beach had its own geological signature: large black volcanic rocks, fine black powder, large gray stones, red rich earth, and yellow-white sand. We ventured up to the highest peak in São Miguel in our vehicle, and walked over to the cellular tower. At this altitude, I could look down and see the blue hydrangeas dividing properties and outlining roadways. I could see the Azorean cows eating the green grass and the rooftops of the cities. I could hear the birds rustling in the thickets around me. I took a deep breath as I took in the surroundings and cough cough. I inhaled a cloud of smoke. Cigarette smoke. It wafts across the entire island. The economy of São Miguel is sustained by eco-tourism, and its inhabitants’ favorite pastime, next to enjoying the scenery, is having a smoke.

No two places we visited looked the same, but no matter where we trekked, the smell lingered. In fact, the smoking culture is so prevalent that the modern hospital in Ponta Delgada, home to several hyperbaric chambers and helicopter-units, and prepared for deep sea and cliff diving accidents, has smoking corridors. The fountains in church courtyards are wet ashtrays. The beautiful forests, lakes, beaches, gardens, footpaths, all smell like something gray.

I had been programmed to be disgusted. No aspiring medical professional in 2014 thinks that cigarettes are good for one’s health. Regardless of career trajectory, most adults in the United States do not like being confronted with the smell of cigarettes. Cigarette smoking has significantly decreased, and its presence in pop culture no longer has that sexy, cool appeal; rather it triggers instant revulsion. How could I love this place and its people if it smells of ash?

My student group had been brought to a particular plaza to watch a local parade that celebrated the island’s heritage. Our tour guide pointed out the best spot along the main road with his yellow-stained fingers. The floats were made by hand; people decorated the backs of their trucks with small scenes illustrating the local color: the fishing industry, tea production, and agriculture. Herds of regally dressed oxen passed us as we sat on the curb. A flatbed truck was converted into a bar and pulled in front of our spot. A dozen nozzles connected to a tap dispensed Azorean beer into clear plastic cups and traditionally dressed men distributed the beer among the spectators. Dancing girls with baskets of sweet bread waltzed by, followed closely by their mothers pouring wine. The food and drink were exceptional. I could feel the locals’ island pride from start to finish.

I had come to São Miguel with an idyllic image of my summer, a balance of adventure in an unspoiled paradise and the academic recognition of an internship. I had framed a picture in my head based on what I had seen online; only to be turned off by the sense I did not see coming, smell. There was so much more though, than just smell. When I opened my assessment to a holistic perspective, taking in all of my sensory input, the locals were generous and loving, proud of their home and their accomplishments. The parade showed me I should pay no attention to what my nose told me, but to open my eyes to the people who lived there and their culture.

*Edited Version: 2/29/16