“Where are you from?”
“Are you hungry, hahaha?”
“No. But I’m quite thirsty. Are you going to buy me a drink?”
I heard this joke a lot so I developed my cheeky answer and it never fails. But sometimes it can be so annoying, especially when you hear it more than once on the same night. We, Hungarians are very bored with it, so it’s time to forget about it. Deal? Although I’m fully aware of the situation back in my country and it’s sad but Hungary is heading to be a hungry country indeed. (But no political comments here.)
“I’m from Hungary.”
“Really? I just ordered some sushi! Would you like some?”
”You know what? I’d love to give you 2 books at this very moment. One would be an English dictionary to know the difference between hungry and Hungary, and a European travel atlas. (And f*** your sushi!)”
This guy thought he’s so funny, but I was not in a good mood to listening to this joke again. We ended up arguing and he got very angry. Even wanted to call my manager because I was rude to him!
“I’m from Hungary.”
“Are you Hungarian? You’re so white. I thought people in Hungary have dark skin like me!”
From a black guy in Toronto. Well, there are so many gipsies in Canada from Hungary, they are all there as refugees because they say Hungary doesn’t want them. And usually, they have darker skin. But apparently Canada made up the law and they send them back to Hungary because their lifestyle was not acceptable to Canadians. But it was funny that some people in Canada thought we are all the same.
“I’m from Hungary.”
“So do you have horses?”
Anybody can explain why I heard this question a few times? In Switzerland and also in Iceland. What is the link between Hungary and horses? It was a long time ago when Hungarians were riding horseback across the Carpathian base and scared the hell out of Romans. But the question is like me asking an Icelander: “Are you from Iceland? Do you have a Viking boat?”
“I’m from Hungary.”
“Do you know that originally Hungarians are from China?”
From a Chinese guy in Macau. Yes. Everything is made in China.
“Where are you from?”
From a Greek guy in Loutraki. I think he was the best. He tried to pick us up on a street and followed us asking questions when I was walking around with Giselle. I have no idea what he heard as my answer. Hungary and Congo have a slight bit of different pronunciation, not to mention we both don’t look exactly like Congolese women. But we still laughing at him. (No surprise, when I was on the train and asked if it goes to the airport, I ended up at the port. Airport and port are also almost the same.)
“I’m from Hungary.”
What is basically not true but I’m laughing at the surprised faces. (I picked up a difficult one to pronounce it) Like no other city exists in Hungary expect Budapest. And Budapest, not Bucharest!
Some situations I feel ashamed, just like in Canada, according to so many gipsies there, I saw a paper on the front door of a shop “Don’t steal!” written in Hungarian. I was not so proud but again, no political comments here. Lots of boss and club owners like to work with Hungarian girls because as they say we are more respectful and there is less drama. But I can say it generally, not only in the nightlife. (Of course, exceptions are everywhere.)
So yes, I’m from Hungary. And I’m proud of it even I live in London now. And I always try to do my best to represent my country.
Eiffel tower, Arc de Triomphe and Champs Elysees. It’s a beautiful city although I have to confess it’s not my favourite. Or maybe just because I always arrived at the Gare du Nord – if I come from London by Eurostar – and it doesn’t give the best first impression of Paris. That area is just so dirty and dodgy, especially at night. But the dancers’ apartment is in the centre, just 10 minutes walk from the Arc de Triomphe and the building is quite quiet. Luckily.
The work is okay. I already know that my perfect place where I’d like to stay longer doesn’t exist. Here the club is renewed, beautiful and shiny. All well designed. One of the prettiest interior of clubs I’ve ever worked. The staff is nice. The girls are nice too. No pressure on girls at work, everyone works in her own tempo. The apartment is okay. Quiet, not so crowded and the cleanness is all right. I have only problems with customers. So unfriendly, so cold! And they don’t want to spend money. I’m a bit surprised because by my experience French guys like me. But here they even feel offended if I ask for a dance. For f*** sake, relax, I’m just doing my job!
Like yesterday: we had 6 guys at the table. They bought a bottle of drink for themselves but they drunk very slowly. All of them was on their mobile phone. I even made a joke that we should open an Internet cafe rather than a strip club. They didn’t even watch the stage show, just took a few photos (which is prohibited) and posted on their Facebook, WhatsApp etc. I saw because I was sitting behind them. And they even felt offended when a girl went over trying to sell a dance. They were quite rude actually. But guys, can you explain to me something? If I want to buy a new pair of shoes, I go to the shoe shop. You come to a strip club because you’re interested in girls. So don’t make faces when a pretty lady tries to communicate with you. Or go home to watch TV instead! I never understand this behaviour. Here I make money only after the dances. No drink commission. (Oh, my liver is very happy!) Some beautiful, experienced girls sit with a guy and make jokes and smile for hours to get a table dance. That means €11 for the dancer. (!) Tips are very rare. So show a little respect! Because this is not what some guys think when they say “You have an easy job. Easy money. You just have to be beautiful.” Really? And definitely, don’t complain that the girls look so unhappy if you behave like a douchebag with them.
But some happy moments happened to me since I’m here. The first night I arrived, I posted a photo of the Arc de Triomphe on my Instagram. And a guy that I know from Guadeloupe sent me a message. He is a professional photographer there but we never met in person as he broke his arm when we had the photo shooting arranged. And guess what? He is in Paris too! So yesterday we met for a coffee. That’s what I like about travelling. I’m from London, he’s from Guadeloupe and we meet in Paris! The same happened to me when I was in Macau. I know a guy from Hong Kong and we met in South Africa when I was working there. And after 2 years we met again just like good friends that they saw each other last just a few days before. I like the feeling that in any country I go on this planet I know someone there. That’s amazing!
Also, I know a Spanish girl from Guadeloupe (it seems Guadeloupe is the centre of my world right now) We were not close friends there but we keep in touch via Facebook time by time. And I sent her a message that there is one girl here looks exactly like her, same face, same hairstyle and that girl reminds me of her so much. And she wrote me back: “That’s my sister!” And she’s coming here too in 10 days, so we will work together again for a short term. So funny! I think our planet is really such a small one. Now her sister and I are waiting for her in Paris.
And I have the feeling that this place has even more surprising for me! Maybe not every road leads to Rome but to Paris!
Yesterday I arrived in Paris. I passed the passport control, just needed to get my suitcase and let’s go to work. Bags are coming. You know the strange feeling when there are less and fewer bags on the conveyor belt but you’re still waiting for yours. Waiting… and waiting. Meanwhile, I had lots of thing in my head. I think you realise you travel a lot when you have more problems at the airports with missing bags, delayed or cancelled flights. Well, this year I had enough.
Some of it was my mistake. Just like when I went to Iceland. I planned everything just like the first time I travelled there, called a taxi, Gatwick Express etc.. I was perfectly on time at Gatwick but I didn’t see my flight be shown on the board. I was still not aware of the situation. I even went to complain to the desk and the lady told me “Don’t worry, the check-in will be open soon.” OK, I thought I check my emails until so I wanted to connect to the airport Wifi. I don’t remember so well, but I think it asked my flight number for the Internet or something that again I didn’t find on the list. that’s strange! And in a minute I realised that s***, I’m in perfect time but at the wrong airport!!! My flight is from Heathrow! That’s happening when you do everything from routine. First time I had the flight from Gatwick indeed and now I didn’t even think or check everything properly. I was laughing at myself badly! I don’t know how I could manage to get to Heathrow but I was there before the flight took off. (If you know the distance between the 2 airports and the traffic in London you know, if not, trust me, that was a miracle.) And if I wouldn’t have had the suitcase that needs to be checked in, they could just let me go through the gates. The security guy apologised a hundred times, but I couldn’t be angry because it was my stupidity. I just smiled at him and booked a new ticket for the next day.
I was not so lucky leaving Japan either. I changed the date of my return flight once online, they charged me extra for that, and then I quit from the club so I needed to change it again. I called the BA, the lady was very helpful and explained to me that they would charge me again for the changing plus I have to pay the difference between the price of the flights. OK, this is the price of the service. But then I checked the tickets, and the one-way return ticket from Tokyo to London cost 1000£ more than I paid for the original ticket! No way, I chose to buy a new ticket with another airline and cancelled this booking. I wrote an email to claim for the refund. I got an answer weeks later: BA was lovely to give me a refund of 40 pence! For a second I thought it’s a kinda joke but they were serious and send it to my bank account. I think the whole bank transaction cost more than that 40pence… Again, I was just laughing at them.
Some other situation was not so funny. Once I flew back to London from Geneva and we had to land in Paris for a technical reason. We were waiting on the plane while technicians came and checked the doors and the vacuum in the aircraft. Hours later the pilot was apologising that we couldn’t take off, but they couldn’t fix the problem and didn’t want to take a risk as “We flew with a half-broken flight to Paris..” But they give us food and hotel rooms for a night. Lots of people got angry because they missed the flight connection but I felt quite happy that they didn’t want to take this kind of risk.
But the most unforgettable story was in Belgium. My friend and I finished the work on the 23rd of December and we wanted to get home for Christmas. On the way to the airport started snowing. We thought it’s gonna be OK as flights take off in the snow, so no problem. But it became heavy snow and the road was slippery, the driver couldn’t go fast. The timing was already very bad and we were sitting in the car intense, none of us wanted to miss that flight. I think we arrived at the airport at the very last minute. We were running to the check-in but what a surprise! It was still a huge queue before us. The airline company couldn’t decide if the plane takes off or not but they let us checking-in and wait on the plane. We were waiting there for hours still hoping that we go home on that day. Suddenly my friend poked my shoulder “Look!” We saw from the window that people were getting off from the plane next to us. That was not a good sign! Shortly after the pilot told us the get off too. There was no plane from that airport that night, all flight were cancelled. (If you remember that was a few years back when the same happened in Paris and lots of flight were cancelled and airports were closed because of heavy snow in Europe.) We stuck at the airport. It was cold, no food, and we didn’t sleep all night. They actually closed the whole airport for the night, only one pub decided to stay open and serve the people at least with alcohol to keep us warm and later the Red Cross came to give us hot tea and coffees. That was not the night I cry for in my life. But sure I will never forget. Since then if someone sings the White Christmas, this is the first thing that comes to my mind.
There were just so many people and there were not enough replacement buses or places in hotels nearby. We put on all our warm clothes and waiting for the snow to stop. That was almost in the morning when we got a crazy taxi driver who drove us in the snowfall through Bruxelles. We decided to try the International airport. Charleroi is a smaller airport, we thought if there are flights in the morning they must be from the International airport as they start to clean the bigger airports first. We were right and at least they had the Starbuck’s open! But we needed to book new tickets and the queue was already huge in front of the ticket office before opening. When we finally got to the desk, we didn’t think when the lady told us the price. We just paid. This story has a happy ending as we both were at the Christmas dinner with our family in that year. Luckily.
Just as my story today. My luggage finally arrived. They said it was some mistakes, they couldn’t find them (as I was not the only one with missing bags). So a bit later, but arrived. Now I’m sitting in the apartment with all my stuff with me. (I don’t know what to do if they say by mistake my luggage with all the stripper costumes landed let’s say somewhere in Chicago.) But now I’m relaxed. In the end, everything goes well.
So if you are about to travel anywhere in the World: I wish you a safe trip!
“The Mid-Autumn Festival is an official harvest festival celebrated by Chinese, Taiwanese and Vietnamese people. The festival is held on the 15th day of the eighth month in the Chinese calendar during a full moon, which is in September or early October”
Last year at the same time I was there. The celebration was funny, every girl in the club had to wear a white dress while people outside were gathering together for a late night picnic or bbq watching the full moon and the whole place was decorated with colourful lanterns. Macau by night is already lit up with neon coloured lights, all together it made the entire city more vibrant than London with the Christmas lights on Oxford Street.
I really enjoyed my time I spent there, for me Macau is a special place when the gambling spirit mixes with the smell of those Chinese burning sticks. I couldn’t stop myself from taking pictures.
And the absolute favourites were the pandas:
Although I have to confess I didn’t know him well. We were not friends in the deeper meaning of this word. He was my manager. One of the kinds you will always remember. But for sure he was a character of the Mavericks club in Cape Town, South Africa. A lively, funny and definitely an unforgettable character. He was homosexual. I’m not saying that to label him, I’m saying because it was part of his personality. His persona if I can say that.
He was funny when he made a show on stage as a drag queen. Don’t imagine a proper show with costumes and makeup, he just randomly went on the stage when he got bored and took all the attention from customers. Every eye and every spotlight were focused on him. Or when he pretended he’s on a catwalk. My friends and I were sitting on a coach and enjoyed the show as he moved his hips sideways as models do. We were laughing at him and with him. He enjoyed our attention too. Still makes me smile when I remember how he fixed his imaginary make up in the mirror!
I didn’t like him sometimes as he always checked what the girls are wearing. He was a very honest criticism with sharp eyes – and with a sharp tongue too. (But he was right most of the time) I remember when my friend wanted to wear very sexy jeans short and he almost got a heart attack when he saw her! He sent her back to the changing room to change the outfit because jeans short are not “classy”. Or I remember when he was flirting with my customer and end of the story he gave his mobile number to him. My customer was kept telling me all night that “I can’t believe that! I came to a strip club and I got a number of a guy!” It was so funny. (Maybe my customer was also homosexual but he hasn’t realised it yet. For me, it’s a mystery how homosexual guys can spot each other, and they are right most of the time.)
Sometimes I hate my facebook. When you just want to check your notifications and on the wall, the bad news just popping up and hit you in the head. I didn’t even know he was sick. Everything happened so suddenly. A great soul has gone. Now he’s doing catwalk shows to angels in heaven and makes them smile. But he will live forever in our memories and we won’t forget him.
You will be truly missed.
Rest in peace Jimmy Diva!