The biggest differences between the cultures of Earth and the cultures of Equestria revolve around clothing. Humans have very few patches of thick hair, and easily damaged skin. Somewhere in our evolution we developed clothing as a way to protect our bodies from the harsh elements, a kind of make-shift pelt. Thick furs cured from animals we hunted and fibers woven from plants we harvested protected us from the sun, the snow, and each other.
Clothing easily became a symbol of status: the wealthy wore clothes of the highest caliber while the poor wore whatever covered them sufficiently. As time went on, it became commonplace for civilized people to wear clothing covering almost the entire body, though I will admit that in warmer areas and warmer seasons they occasionally wore only what covered the most sensitive parts of human anatomy. Still, they wore clothing.
In fact, there is a word just for people who chose to spend their time in private and in specially marked area without clothing. They were nudists. I mention this for one very important reason, something I think any human in Equestria needs to understand if they find themselves stranded here. I know I would have been spared a great deal of embarrassment had I know this fact ahead of time.
Everypony in Equestria - including the Princesses - is a nudist. In all but a few situations, every pony I have ever met has been comfortable going around completely in the nude.
Somehow, I did not realize this when I first arrived in Equestria.
To be fair, I was a bit distracted. My trip here was excruciatingly unpleasant. I had arrived here through a surge of wild magic, that bent and broke my body until it fit into this world. My first memory of Equestria involved being curled up in pain, surrounded by snow, and utterly alone. Thankfully, whatever force is behind the magic that brought me here melted the snow under me; leaving a comfortable bed of grass. It also created a pillar of light, which led a pair of Night Guards to discover me. Lastly - and this one I didn’t notice until I was in the hospital - it turned me into a colt.
Again: I was not in the most observant state of mind. I hadn’t even noticed I was no longer human. By the Moon’s many craters, I didn’t have the capacity to recognize that I was no longer an adult. I cannot stress how much pain the wild magic put me through. But I would come to discover that the transformation was only the beginning.
Before I continue, I should mention something that may have occurred to you. I did not speak Equestrian when I landed here: I spoke English, my native language. For those that attempt the translation guide in the back of the book; the closest analogue this world has would have to be Griffish. Even then, English and Griffish are third cousins twice removed. For any English-speaking humans reading this: Equestrian sounds like Latin, filtered through Mandarin, and spiced with Navajo. With a side serving of Klingon.
After my brief period of unconsciousness in the snow, I awoke to a nurse checking my vitals. The fact the the nurse was a pony had me screaming in terror. It was only then that I noticed I was no longer human. That was when the nightmare-like terror ended and true panic began. In retrospect, I’m rather impressed with how quickly they sedated a foal flailing about, screaming in gibberish. It was English, and I had been yelling about which orifices I was going to shove their heads into should they not immediately turn me back into a human. At least I think I did; my memory of that moment is very blurry. Those were some pretty good sedatives.
I was much calmer the second time I awoke - probably because of the drugs. That time I was all alone. Without the immediate panic from the previous encounter, I was able to piece together my situation - though logic wasn’t helping very much. I would try and move my limbs, but without the adrenaline of panic all I could do was flop them about. The sheer size of the nurse I had seen earlier probably meant I was younger than I used to be, I had guessed. And none of the rest of what I reasoned out made any more sense than that. I’m not ashamed to admit that I spent that night in tears. At some point a nurse came in to check on me; I am eternally grateful that she held me until I fell back into an exhausted sleep.
The next portion of my foalhood I share with great embarrassment. I put it here, with so many other things, in order to prepare any who arrive here under the same or similar circumstances for the humiliation that would follow. My time as a colt is the one thing that I am thankful that the wild magic giving me. Embarrassed as I was, I know it would have been immeasurably worse as a stallion.
I quickly discovered many things after I awoke for the third time in Equestria. The first, simplest, and potentially most problematic thing was that I couldn’t speak the language. I couldn’t piece together any of the words, let alone the sentence structure, that the nurse that was assigned to me was using. The second thing I discovered was that my brain had yet to grow accustomed to the signals my new body was sending me: I couldn’t walk, I could barely speak. I couldn’t do much of anything at all. The doctors at the hospital assumed that I was approximately seven or eight years old; for my first week in Equestria, though, I may have been a newborn for all it mattered. I would later learn that the doctors assumed that I had been severely neglected or had had my memory wiped by parents who didn’t want me. Or both.
I also learned that there had been a major hunt led by the Solar Guard in search of them.
Fortunately, I was a smart man on Earth, and I retained that intelligence as a colt. Within a week I was able to communicate somewhat above the most basic level, and I no longer fell on my face when I tried to walk (as long as I didn’t actually think about walking). I was progressing extremely quickly in most areas. Within two weeks I was allowed to join the colts and fillies in general pediatric care.
One thing that is consistent between Equestria and Earth, and probably any other world, is that juveniles have the potential to be the nicest, most generous things around - and the potential to the the most cruel creatures one will ever meet. When I was moved into general pediatric care I had yet to realize that ponies, in general, were nudists. The doctors and the nurses all wore lab coats, so I thought that clothing was worn by everypony, with my partial nudity caused by my situation. I say partial, because at the time I had yet to fully master all the aspects of my young and newly transformed body. Before being switched over I managed to successfully ask for something that could cover what I saw as a massive humiliation. I was actually proud of myself for communicating my desires so well. The nurse who gave me the pants probably just thought they’d be adorable on me. Adults are ignorant like that.
In a culture that does not wear clothing for modesty, clothing is typically worn for accessory or utility. For some it signifies status, for some it is beauty, and for some it is simply a pragmatic part of a job. There are many of reasons ponies wear clothes, and very few of them revolve around hiding something.
And so the majority of the foals in general pediatric care were introduced to me, and I noticed that all but a few were naked. The other foals, however, noticed very quickly that the pants that were meant to hide my humiliation served only accentuate the fact that a foal of seven or eight years had yet to master a basic bodily function. I was teased mercilessly until the day I left that place.
So to any humans that find themselves in a body they cannot control, in a culture they don’t understand: know that you will be embarrassed. You will insult someone by accident; you will trip over yourself, and others, and inanimate objects; and you will find yourself relying on other ponies more than you’d ever expect.
However, in time, you may just find a home away from home.