And yes ... we're here to discuss our hygiene and hygienic practices, and perhaps, er ... our lack of hygiene.
Personally, I'd classify myself as a hygienic person. I've always been brought up to wash my hands before dinner and to make sure to stay away from germs. Perhaps this has made me a trifle extreme. A couple of years ago, at the peak of my OCD, I'd wash my hands constantly, afraid not only of infecting myself, but as posing a threat to other people who may come in contact with my germs. I have retained some of these qualities, and in fact still wash my hands vigourously multiple times a day.
Unfortunately, when I enter the outside world, I meet some people who seem ot be, er ... less thorough in their washing. This strikes me as rather odd, since as a community, we the Maltese have always valued cleanliness, and most children are brought up and educated well in this regard.
For example, this week I was using the public transport. An elderly man boarded the bus (if you can call it such ... it looked more like a World War II relic) and sat next to me. I had to spend the rest of the journey with my nose stuck in the window, because the stench of sweat emanating from this individual was incredible. Thing is, it didn't smell like "fresh" sweat. On the contrary, I figured this old man hadn't showered for about a fortnight. Hopefully I'm wrong about that estimate.
Oh, and a couple of weeks ago, I was at a festa (Maltese for "village feast", a religious but very lively celebration in a particular town or village. Usually comprises of a number of brass bands, joyful crowds, and spectacular fireworks). I needed a drink, and so went to buy some Coca-Cola from a kazin (a place dedicated either to a sort of club relating to the feast, or the home place of the brass band or political party - has an area looking a bit like a pub), only to be met by a sweltering bar tender who had persipration dripping from the end of his nose. Now let's be fair here. It was a stifling day, and the doors of the kazin were open and as such, there was no point in switching on air conditioning. I can understand why the bar tender had sweat dripping from his nose, but I really felt grossed out to see him handling my drink, and suddenly lift his sweaty T-Shirt (exposing a very hairy looking belly) and wipe his face with it. I made a look of disgust which I couldn't stop in time. He didn't notice though.
So ... what do you guys think?
