Caitlin stopped, in awe, watching.
She was soon jostled roughly, and turned to see a large man, dressed in a cloak and mask, drunk, stumbling, his arm around an elaborately dressed courtesan. As Caitlin watched, he reached down and grabbed her rear roughly, and she screamed with laughter.
This city was like a circus. It was the rowdiest, most chaotic place she had ever seen. She marveled that all this licentiousness could be taking place right here, in front of these churches. It was the strangest dichotomy she had ever seen. Was the city just one, endless party? Or had she arrived at some special time?
Caitlin spotted a small group of finely dressed woman cutting their way through the crowd. They were each dressed in elaborate gowns, ruffling their way, and held a small pouch to their noses as they went.
Caitlin wondered what they were holding, and at just that moment, it hit her. The stench. She had been too stunned to notice it at first, but now, as she walked, she was overwhelmed by the horrible smell of everyone and everything around her. It smelled like no one here had bathed. Ever.
And then she remembered: of course, no one had. It was 1790, after all. Plumbing hadn’t been invented yet. As the sun grew higher, and the temperature grew warmer, the stench grew even worse. Caitlin held her nose, but no matter which way she turned, she couldn’t get away from it.
That’s why those women were holding those pouches to their noses: to block out the smell.
Caitlin suddenly felt claustrophobic, and spotted what looked like a side street; she cut her way through a group of jugglers and guitar players, and as she crossed the square, she saw that there were many side streets leading in and out of the square. They were more like narrow alleyways, underneath arched buildings, and she ducked into the nearest one.
Finally, she could breathe; Rose looked relieved, too. They headed down the narrow side street, and it weaved its way left and right. The streets were so narrow, and the buildings blocked out most of the light, and she began to feel confined in this city. She stood there, debating which way to go.
She had barely ventured a few blocks, and already she felt disoriented, turned around. She had no idea where she was going, or where to look for Caleb—if he was even here. She wished she had a map—but then again, she had no money—or, at least, no real money—to pay for one.
Worse, she felt the hunger gnawing away at her again, and felt herself growing more irritable.
Rose, as if reading her mind, whined. The poor thing was hungry, too. Caitlin was determined to find a way to get them both food.
She suddenly heard a wooden shutter opening up above, followed by a loud splashing. She jumped back, as a bucket of water hit the ground, close to her, startling her. She looked up and saw an old woman, missing teeth, looking down as she finished emptying a bucket, and then slammed closed the shutters.
Caitlin smelled a horrible stench, and didn’t need anyone to explain to her what the woman had just done: thrown a bucket of urine out the window. She was revolted. She heard another shutter opening, in the distance, and looked over and watched someone else do the same. She looked down and realized that the streets were lined with urine and feces. She also noticed several rats scurrying to and fro. She nearly wretched. It made her, for the first time, really appreciate the inventions and comforts of her time that she had always taken for granted. Plumbing. Sewage systems. She longed for cleanliness, and felt more homesick than ever. If this was a sneak preview of urban life in 1790, she wasn’t sure she could handle it.
Caitlin hurried along, before any more shutters opened, and finally saw what looked like an opening up ahead. She reached the end of the alleyway, and it indeed opened up onto another square, this one less crowded. She was relieved to be out of the side streets and back out into the open light and
She was soon jostled roughly, and turned to see a large man, dressed in a cloak and mask, drunk, stumbling, his arm around an elaborately dressed courtesan. As Caitlin watched, he reached down and grabbed her rear roughly, and she screamed with laughter.
This city was like a circus. It was the rowdiest, most chaotic place she had ever seen. She marveled that all this licentiousness could be taking place right here, in front of these churches. It was the strangest dichotomy she had ever seen. Was the city just one, endless party? Or had she arrived at some special time?
Caitlin spotted a small group of finely dressed woman cutting their way through the crowd. They were each dressed in elaborate gowns, ruffling their way, and held a small pouch to their noses as they went.
Caitlin wondered what they were holding, and at just that moment, it hit her. The stench. She had been too stunned to notice it at first, but now, as she walked, she was overwhelmed by the horrible smell of everyone and everything around her. It smelled like no one here had bathed. Ever.
And then she remembered: of course, no one had. It was 1790, after all. Plumbing hadn’t been invented yet. As the sun grew higher, and the temperature grew warmer, the stench grew even worse. Caitlin held her nose, but no matter which way she turned, she couldn’t get away from it.
That’s why those women were holding those pouches to their noses: to block out the smell.
Caitlin suddenly felt claustrophobic, and spotted what looked like a side street; she cut her way through a group of jugglers and guitar players, and as she crossed the square, she saw that there were many side streets leading in and out of the square. They were more like narrow alleyways, underneath arched buildings, and she ducked into the nearest one.
Finally, she could breathe; Rose looked relieved, too. They headed down the narrow side street, and it weaved its way left and right. The streets were so narrow, and the buildings blocked out most of the light, and she began to feel confined in this city. She stood there, debating which way to go.
She had barely ventured a few blocks, and already she felt disoriented, turned around. She had no idea where she was going, or where to look for Caleb—if he was even here. She wished she had a map—but then again, she had no money—or, at least, no real money—to pay for one.
Worse, she felt the hunger gnawing away at her again, and felt herself growing more irritable.
Rose, as if reading her mind, whined. The poor thing was hungry, too. Caitlin was determined to find a way to get them both food.
She suddenly heard a wooden shutter opening up above, followed by a loud splashing. She jumped back, as a bucket of water hit the ground, close to her, startling her. She looked up and saw an old woman, missing teeth, looking down as she finished emptying a bucket, and then slammed closed the shutters.
Caitlin smelled a horrible stench, and didn’t need anyone to explain to her what the woman had just done: thrown a bucket of urine out the window. She was revolted. She heard another shutter opening, in the distance, and looked over and watched someone else do the same. She looked down and realized that the streets were lined with urine and feces. She also noticed several rats scurrying to and fro. She nearly wretched. It made her, for the first time, really appreciate the inventions and comforts of her time that she had always taken for granted. Plumbing. Sewage systems. She longed for cleanliness, and felt more homesick than ever. If this was a sneak preview of urban life in 1790, she wasn’t sure she could handle it.
Caitlin hurried along, before any more shutters opened, and finally saw what looked like an opening up ahead. She reached the end of the alleyway, and it indeed opened up onto another square, this one less crowded. She was relieved to be out of the side streets and back out into the open light and
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