A month ago in a business trip to Lurkistan I was invited by a coworker to enjoy an evening at his home. After having a very nice variety of cheeses, his wife brought a succulent flan. She noticed how much I enjoyed it and offered me seconds that I happily devoured.
We went to their living room and had some coffee and cigars; after a lively conversation I excused myself and told them that I had a long day and needed some rest. I thanked them for the meal and complimented the flan.
"Thank you," she said giving me a big smile, "I made it this afternoon with my own breast milk."
I went to my hotel and spent the rest of the night throwing up.
The morning after, before going to the airport, I went to a supermarket nearby to buy some candies for my friends back home. At one corner of the store there was a big fridge filled with milk. Human milk.
A big variety of dairy products were in display. Raw bottled milk for babies, light yogurts and cheeses of many brands and prices.
"Are you surprised?" Asked the owner of the store amused.
"Yes," I replied, as he proceeded to tell me that most westerners have the same reaction the first time they visit a Lurken supermarket.
"Human dairy is one of the main produces of our economy, many women choose this profession and make a good living out of it. They can work from home and just have to go to collection facilities once a day."
"Isn't it dangerous? I mean, you could transfer diseases very easily." I complained.
"We don't worry about that; there are strict regulations, milk is pasteurized and women have regular blood tests to prevent sanitary issues."
"Why the big price differences?" I asked disconcerted.
"Consumption of human dairy," he replied, "has been a tradition for centuries in this country. Just as you have organic products in your land, so we have different varieties here. Depending on their life style, diet and age, the taste and quality of their milk varies. For example that bottle there," he proceeded as he pointed at the refrigerator," is called honey-milk. Its flavor can only be produced by a young woman whose diet is heavy on sweets and nuts. And that one over there," he mentioned excited pointing at a little jar, "is called sour-delight; it is a rare delicacy produced by pre-menopausal women."
He saw my expression of repugnance and gave me a smile.
"You foreigners are strange people!" he said laughing, "What is disgusting is to drink the secretion of a creature with four stomachs and horns; we haven't figured out how can you base your diet on such thing. Breast milk is the first and most natural food."
I brought back some sweets from my trip and my friends were delighted with their taste until I told them about their origin.
I haven't drunk milk ever since.