Let’s talk toilets! No, really. We in the developed world have it made with our private stalls and ensuite boudoirs, our thrones of porcelain and bidets of gold. One ply? Blasphemy. Only the finest double and triple ply cotton will do.
But in the rest of world — outside the sanitized comfort of airports in (really) big cities — it is squatter all the way baby.
“What is a squatter?” you ask?
Oh, my dear gal (or guy). YOU are in for a surprise.
A squatter, as these lovely images from my travels around the globe indicate, is a hole in the ground, about 6 inches in diameter and… well… that’s it. No flush, no thrown, no nuthin’. The real problem with them, besides the mind numbing stench, is that you truly do have to squat. I don’t know how many of you have tried to hover over a tiny hole and aim while wearing a belly bag, backpack, umbrella, extra jacket and underwear, but let me tell you, it is a feat of strength and endurance worthy of Olympic sport.
I’ve noticed recently that some of the nicer restaurants in good size cities have tried to accommodate our western sensibilities. Yep, they have installed porcelain toilets… out in the open, next to the sink.
So practice my friends. ‘Cause the last thing you want to do is to fall butt first into the doo.
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