One of the most frequent questions raised to me since I arrived home: “how shocking was it to come home”. Well, the truth is I cannot call it shocking at all.
Of course there are some interesting things, tiny cultural differences. E.g. one of my favourite experiences is when a few weeks ago as stepping out from a government office I was caughing and felt like spitting. And spit right there on th pavement. There was noone there to make me feel being judged but still I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that hmm… this act of mine was not really compliant with Hunagrian culture. I am grateful for the fact that instead of getting lost in shame, after a second I just burts into laughter.
Talking about shame… I remember the first time I was blushing after coming home….after long-long months without blushing…When I entered Unicredit Bank to fix mx internet banking process. Since for the last time my internet banking was associated with an Indian phone number. The kind bank officer was asking for my details and after a few second she said: ‘I would be glad to help but you haven’t had an active bank account at our bank for years’. My body was overwhelmed with that hot sensation following my face blushing, while I realized that I went to the wrong bank office. This situation also ended with a big laughter.
And if talking about blushing…I cannot help sharing my favourite scene with blushing, on my first date after arriving home. I was dating with a guy with whom we haven’t met for 12 years and whom I contacted because for some reason his name just kept appearing in my mind, without any special history. Well, another gift from Mata India, this gentleman was not the only one with whom I initiated the meeting. (Something I would have never done before). But let’s get back to blushing. Once our light and delicate re-union conversation reached a point when he told me that when we used to work together 12 years ago, I was bringing light to his mornings every single day when I appeared in our commong workplace (the store room of a clothes shop), I suddenly felt my face blushing, which I tried to release by telling: “now I feel I am being embarassed”. Then the young man just kissed me without telling anything. It was a wonderful experience. Although since than we agreed that we really don’t suit each other, I will be always grateful for him for this kiss. 🙂
And back to banks…. When I finally reached my bank, I had a very interesting experience there. While waiting, once a man came next to me, filling the space around with such a disgusting smell. From being disgusted I soon arrived in a nice smile, following the realization that as opposed to all prejudices about India, there I didn’t feel people smelly. Of course there are a few explanations coming to my mind. One of them is something coming to my mind only right now as getting into the flow of writing that at the places where I would have had a bigger chance to meet really smelly people (in big cities), the environment itself was so stinky that it just concealed all other smells. And what came to my mind first, that since in India almost all people eat the same food (and I also used to belong to almost all people), however people smell, at the end of the day they all smell similar. It happened also at home that I felt myself smelly for the first time. This is how a few weeks ago in the cold Hunagrian autumn I decided to start to use deodorant after a few months’ interval.
If already talking about the first deodorant use… It also happened a few weeks ago that I decided to wear a bra when I wanted to put on a white blouse for a business meeting. After more than 9 months wearing an underwire bra felt like closing my boobs inbetween prison bars. Terrible. I haven’t collected enough power to repeat this experience ever since, also my white blouse takes its time waiting on the bottom of the laundry basket. And well, another reason for feeling unable to get back to a multinational office environment. 🙂
And… if talking about bras…I have a real gem to share…Well, when after a few months in India my razor started to loose sharpness, and I met more and more beautiful women who didn’t really care about some hair at some body parts…and also, after a few months I also felt that if my body hair makes a man to refrain from having sex with me, I really don’t mind, I started to stop removing my body hair. Relating to this one of my most extreme experience was when I met a guy who was even shaving his chest and I found myself quite soon in his arms, while at that time even my legs embracing his legs were so so hairy, like never before. It would be inappropriate to assume that this is a cultural thing in India, the vast majority of Indian women (who have quite strong black body hair) remove hair from all limbs (although I don’t know much about their more intimate body parts), this my be rather a privilage of European women travelling to India. And the next chapter of the story also belongs to the young man helping me with a kiss to come over my embarassement. He was the one honoured with being the first man in Hungary to take off my panties. At this time I already removed the hair from my legs and even trimmed my intimate part a bit but just didn’t feel like shaving it all. Well, the young man was so much unable to manage this that we even ended up laughing a few times while being in the bed because as he said: “Rózsi Demjén (a Hungarian singer, with a haircut similar to Slash) got stuck between my legs”. 🙂
And once I already started to tell stories about my most intimate body part, as a cultural difference I wanna share another gem from the day when I arrived in Nepal for the second time. I have been already writing a lot about the adventures of this trip, starting with me deiding to travel on a motorbike with a Malaysian gentleman instead of taking the bus. And this gentleman was a great help when at the border it came to light that my visa expired a day ago, etc… But I haven’t been writing about that this remarkable day of arriving at the border also had a very funny side too. It all started when in the morning I was hopping on the motorbike and heard a loud creak. It was my ultralight capri pants tearing in its total width under my butt. Since by this time we have been on the way for many days without a chance to wash any clothes, I wasn’t wearing panties. And since the backpacks were already applied to the motorbike ready for leaving, instead of looking for something clean in my stock of clean clothes which was quite limited anyway I just rolled a shawl around my waist, hoping that it is long enough. And after many hours on the bike and after all the worries about exiting India with the visa expired a day ago, when I finally had the Nepalese stamp in my passport, I lied down on the ground, right there in front of the Nepalese immigration office. I was lying on my back, with my knees looking to the sky, with my butt looking at the direction of the immigration office. My Malaysian friend was just walking around the scene, looking for some good photo options when once he shouted with a big smile: “Hey, you remember your Jah Jah is open?” I have never heard the expression “Jah Jah” in this context but I soon realized what he meant. I just started to feel embarassed when I also realized that my most intimate part can be seen only by him and a few cows. I didn’t even move, just as much as I was moved by laughing. And the cultural difference. What was called Rózsi Demjén in Hungary with not too much good intention, in Nepal was called Jah Jah, which is by the way an expression referring to God in the Jamaican reggae songs. That’s all <3