In Budapest, they have these bath houses. Budapest is situated on thermally active ground, and the thermally heated water has made the city a perfect place for the construction of many different kinds of bath houses. Lavish, luxurious, frequented by tourists from all over the world.
The thing was, I was in the middle of my period. Sorry if this is becoming too private, but that’s just how it was. I was bloated, bleeding and with strange-smelling sweat, walking around in Budapest, not feeling quite sure about if I really should go to one of the bath houses. Having my period doesn’t make me feel like being seen in a bikini, or being around people really, and all this hassle with blood and tampons and stuff. Nah, maybe it would be better if I just skipped the baths, this time.
However, it just so happens that while I was walking there in the afternoon heat, I was also listening to programs from the Swedish Radio – like I usually do. And on this particular afternoon, my mp3-player started playing the Sommar i P1 program by Liv Strömquist. (For the very few of you who aren’t Swedish, Sommar i P1 is a summer program, called ‘summer talks’, hosted by a different person every day. The person is a prominent Swede of some kind, a politician, author, actor, scientist, and she/he can talk about whatever she/he feels like talking about, combined with the music of her/his choice. Usually people talk about themselves, experiences they’ve had, life lessons, and being offered to host this program is a real honor. It is probably the most listened to program on the Swedish Radio, a real summer tradition, running every summer for more than half a century. And Liv Strömquist is a super cool feminist, she draws political comics and used to be on a program on the Swedish Radio doing political satire.)
Fittingly, Liv Strömquist’s summer talk was about menstruation: cultural history, significance in different cultures, biology, affect on body and mind, personal stories. How it through centuries in our western culture has been seen as something unclean and shameful – which by extension also means that all women roughly between the ages of 12 and 50 experience something that they are forced to hide for 2-7 days Every Single Month. Yet another way to subjugate women, and the unclean female body.
There was a lot more to Liv’s awesome menstruation summer talk, but I feel that that’s enough to explain my sudden resolve to go to a bath house despite having my period. Maybe not a very brave and progressive feminist act in itself, I still felt that why should I let something as stupid as a little blood and centuries of oppressive ideas about the female body prevent me from experiencing one of the main tourist activities in Budapest? There is no shame in being bloated. So I loaded up on tampons, walked to the Széchenyi bath house and had a lovely afternoon, letting my weary sightseers body be soaked in the strange smelling waters of a Budapest hamam.
(And for your information, in case you were thinking “that must be unsanitary!”, all the 1990’s commercials with strange blue liquids and women in white skirts did tell the truth – tampons really do have an amazing ability to soak up liquids!)
It was nice. The facilities were beautiful. The inside pools with thermal water, surrounded by marble columns and with glass domes in the ceiling, were incredibly fancy. But I wasn’t that impressed. The thermal baths on Iceland were both warmer and stronger smelling, in a way more majestic landscape. And going to a crowded bath house by yourself was actually kind of lonely. Still, I’m happy I went. After all, they did have a decent sauna – and I’m Finnish! I don’t say that lightly. During non of my visits to the sauna did I have to share the top bench with anyone. People simply couldn’t handle the heat.
Katja Malmborg 