He was a stranger for me. So was I

Aladdin is not the protagonist. Not always. Not in my story. Aladdin is the hero. The handsome stranger with curtly hair who saves the princess… Like every fairy tale, ours starts like this… Once upon a time, there was a princess who was living in a beautiful castle with her family. Jasmine was a rebel. She wanted to be a volunteer and she left her safe nest. A twelve months long story was waiting for her. Where? In Hungary. Have you ever heard about those adventures where the protagonist starts in poor conditions, alone, and unhappy?

Well… In that case, just imagine that Disney is paying for that poor fellow’s rent and food, and you can understand pretty much the situation. I was… I mean... Jasmine was living surrounded by people, but she was lonely. People were speaking in English and she was too scared and shy to ask any question. “Maybe I can stay in my room” she was thinking. But she had to cook, to eat, to work, and to… go to the bathroom! So then, plan B: she was sneaking out of the room as fast as she could to grab what she needed and to use the toilet. There was a unique flaw in this perfect strategy. The other flatmates noticed something was wrong. Maybe because they never saw her eating. Or maybe because she was asking for their permission to go to the toilet (yes, she was). “Oh no, they know! What am I going to do?” she was thinking to quit the project. At home the life was easy. Her parents were ready to hug her and to make her feel safe again. But it was too easy. She wanted to stay and fight against her fears. The other people understood that something was wrong. They told her some nice words (which she didn’t get), they wanted to be their friends, and they pushed her to use the kitchen to cook whenever she wanted. And then they threw her in the shower completely dressed. Wait... In the shower… What?! Yes, they did. But inexplicably, from that moment on, they were my family. I mean… Her family.

Who was the mind behind the evil shower joke? A curly-hair mysterious guy. Jasmine hated him, but somehow that mystery was attracting her. She knew that guy since the very first day. He picked her up at the bus station. He was speaking so fast. For the first two months Jasmine didn’t talk with him. She didn’t want. Actually, neither she could. Her English was terrible. Step by step she was improving. Every day she was expressing herself better. Everybody was supporting her, even the guy of the mystery was helping her. He was patient. A brilliant teacher. Every time that a new word was becoming part of her, she was collecting a new piece to solve the puzzle behind those curly hair.

Then suddenly, puff. Like a trick of magic from a blue genie, she was speaking English. Well, not perfectly. However, it was enough to have some proper talks. She was finally able to communicate. To express her idea, and to get the others’ ideas. She was talking to Curly. A lot. Till morning. About everything. But something was wrong… Again! It was like her body was there, but not her mind. Her mind was still surrounded by the high walls of her family’s castle. From the entrance of her mind-castle she was able to see only one way. The other roads didn’t exist. Religions, cultures, sexual orientations. Only one way existed, only one way was right. The second wish came true and the walls were knocked down. Curly showed her a whole new world. Shining, shimmering, and splendid. A whole new world. A new fantastic point of view.

Jasmine could finally see new ideas, new realities, new perspectives. How many prejudices she had before… How could an atheist be a good person? How could gay, lesbian, and transgender people be considered normal? How could different cultures exist? Every question looked so silly now. Jasmine had so many discussions with Curly, but somehow she knew that sometimes (sometimes! He wasn’t a saint!!) it was her fault. She was stuck in her own believes that, even if she didn’t denied, they were concealing a bigger truth that she loved it was finally part of her.

“If you want to know someone, you should shop and travel with them.” As a Turkish proverb says. And Jasmine did it with Curly. On his flying carpet they were free. Free to go far, beyond the clouds, beyond the borders of the map. Jasmine was growing up every day. She was volunteering making herself and other people happy. She never stopped learning: English, new ideas, new cool stuff about herself. Jasmine was the protagonist of her story. With a curly hero beside her, the handsome stranger who revolutionized MY life. He was special.

Every story has a happy ending. But not this one. Because the story ends. Everybody went home. Into the distance… Wait a second… I still have a third wish... Hey Genie, can you do me one last favour?