When I was young, I navigated my Chicago neighborhood using my senses of smell and hearing.
To the east of where we lived, there was a large bakery with ovens that provided breads, cakes and other sweets to consumers through supermarkets and the on-sitespewed a scent bouquet of banana, pineapple, cinnamon, clove and wintergreen into the air—commonly recognized as the smells of bubble gum. The smell on the wind would tell me the direction it was coming from. Given my impairment of not being able to determine one direction from another, God was very generous in allocating me a sizable nose to compensate and help sort things out in my own neighborhood.