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09/01/2021
Carpintero
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Carpintero
Top Review
31
Please turn round!
With never-ending patience, the lady from the sat nav regularly tells me that I have missed the exit - and this is followed by the polite instruction that I should please turn around at the next opportunity. But the always friendly voice has no idea that I might be driving around a traffic jam.
In the process, I often drive past places that I would never have seen from the highway: great, idyllic villages, first-class village pubs with hearty food and remote lakes that invite you to relax.
That must have been how it went with Dunhill's Icon Absolute.
Because the driver here seems to have a clear destination in mind: Oud Wood. In this direction it should go, that can be guessed from the opening.
After the ignition key (flakondeckel) was turned and the engine was started, drones one first of all once a huge load of strong-I-know-not in the nose. Horrible! As if you had pressed your mouth and nose very hard on the exhaust, just to get the full load of exhaust fumes. This, however, only as a comparison - IT SMELLS NOT AFTER EXHAUST.
But it smells harsh at first. Very stern. Once the first 30 seconds are over, you get an inkling of where it's going: Oud Wood.
The heart note of the Oud Wood is the top note the Icon Absolute.
"Follow the road for a very long time," says the lady in the Navi. And I have Oud Wood as a destination already in mind.
But after half an hour on the straight highway in the direction of Oud Wood, the traffic jam warning rings around my ears. Oh, I'd just been listening so nicely to the modern remixes of old 80s music on my Spotify playlist - it really wouldn't have needed the traffic jam now, after all. My Navi says nothing about it.
So I take the exit in the direction of "forest". While I drive already some minutes on the deserted country road in the direction of forest, suddenly also the lady from the Navi announces itself to word "If possible please turn!". Monotonously she repeats this instruction again and again. As long as, until it becomes too stupid to me and I terminate the guidance.
The road is idyllic, empty and winding. I let down the windows, because the smell of the LED SEATS of my new car cause headaches at times. Wonderful country air - no, not a cow barn or a pigsty, but freshly mown GRASS, alpine HERBS and far away the FOREST. Also the destination Oud Wood smell again and again.
Finally arriving in the forest, I am horrified to find that it has been cut down and a tree trunk lying across it makes it impossible for me to continue on the now single track gravel road.
"Please turn around" I sarcastically curse to myself. Thank God my girlfriend is not with me. The has conspired namely with the lady from the Navi against me. So I believe at least. Every now and then I accuse her of cereal terror, too, especially when they try to replace my oh-so-loved Weisswurst breakfast with healthy bowls. "Remember the cholesterol" - it sounds almost in the same monotone voice from the bathroom every morning.
So I turn. True, it smells intense, woody and beautiful. But Oud Wood was my destination after all. That's where I was going, right?
So I drive back the road, get lost in the next roundabout and suddenly discover a sign: "Oud". I wonder if that's where Oud Wood is headed
I follow the sign. The windows closed accompanies me the intense smell of freshly chopped wood and the leather seats of my new car, accompanied by a little saffron and spices.
Finally, the town sign: OUD.
Yes, and you can smell it. Intense, very intense.
Still the woods, the leather and the saffron is perceptible, but Oud now plays the leading role. So authentic and captivating. As if I were in a mall in Dubai or Abu Dhabi. You seem to be able to literally smell the wealth of the village.
"Sorry, which way is Oud Wood?", I ask an elegant gentleman on the side of the road.
"Don't you like it in Oud?" he replies to my question.
"Yes, I do, but I do have to go to Oud Wood..." I reply to him with a sheepish smile.
"Do you have to?" he asks me provocatively.
"Nah, I don't have to" I reply firmly.
It doesn't always have to be the pompous Oud Wood. Sometimes a down-to-earth oud is enough - especially if you have the right companion with you
In the process, I often drive past places that I would never have seen from the highway: great, idyllic villages, first-class village pubs with hearty food and remote lakes that invite you to relax.
That must have been how it went with Dunhill's Icon Absolute.
Because the driver here seems to have a clear destination in mind: Oud Wood. In this direction it should go, that can be guessed from the opening.
After the ignition key (flakondeckel) was turned and the engine was started, drones one first of all once a huge load of strong-I-know-not in the nose. Horrible! As if you had pressed your mouth and nose very hard on the exhaust, just to get the full load of exhaust fumes. This, however, only as a comparison - IT SMELLS NOT AFTER EXHAUST.
But it smells harsh at first. Very stern. Once the first 30 seconds are over, you get an inkling of where it's going: Oud Wood.
The heart note of the Oud Wood is the top note the Icon Absolute.
"Follow the road for a very long time," says the lady in the Navi. And I have Oud Wood as a destination already in mind.
But after half an hour on the straight highway in the direction of Oud Wood, the traffic jam warning rings around my ears. Oh, I'd just been listening so nicely to the modern remixes of old 80s music on my Spotify playlist - it really wouldn't have needed the traffic jam now, after all. My Navi says nothing about it.
So I take the exit in the direction of "forest". While I drive already some minutes on the deserted country road in the direction of forest, suddenly also the lady from the Navi announces itself to word "If possible please turn!". Monotonously she repeats this instruction again and again. As long as, until it becomes too stupid to me and I terminate the guidance.
The road is idyllic, empty and winding. I let down the windows, because the smell of the LED SEATS of my new car cause headaches at times. Wonderful country air - no, not a cow barn or a pigsty, but freshly mown GRASS, alpine HERBS and far away the FOREST. Also the destination Oud Wood smell again and again.
Finally arriving in the forest, I am horrified to find that it has been cut down and a tree trunk lying across it makes it impossible for me to continue on the now single track gravel road.
"Please turn around" I sarcastically curse to myself. Thank God my girlfriend is not with me. The has conspired namely with the lady from the Navi against me. So I believe at least. Every now and then I accuse her of cereal terror, too, especially when they try to replace my oh-so-loved Weisswurst breakfast with healthy bowls. "Remember the cholesterol" - it sounds almost in the same monotone voice from the bathroom every morning.
So I turn. True, it smells intense, woody and beautiful. But Oud Wood was my destination after all. That's where I was going, right?
So I drive back the road, get lost in the next roundabout and suddenly discover a sign: "Oud". I wonder if that's where Oud Wood is headed
I follow the sign. The windows closed accompanies me the intense smell of freshly chopped wood and the leather seats of my new car, accompanied by a little saffron and spices.
Finally, the town sign: OUD.
Yes, and you can smell it. Intense, very intense.
Still the woods, the leather and the saffron is perceptible, but Oud now plays the leading role. So authentic and captivating. As if I were in a mall in Dubai or Abu Dhabi. You seem to be able to literally smell the wealth of the village.
"Sorry, which way is Oud Wood?", I ask an elegant gentleman on the side of the road.
"Don't you like it in Oud?" he replies to my question.
"Yes, I do, but I do have to go to Oud Wood..." I reply to him with a sheepish smile.
"Do you have to?" he asks me provocatively.
"Nah, I don't have to" I reply firmly.
It doesn't always have to be the pompous Oud Wood. Sometimes a down-to-earth oud is enough - especially if you have the right companion with you
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Nqobie0303
KimJong
IanFriedrich
