Bathroom talk

On my first trip to India I was warned that toileting was something to get used to. I was prepared for a fancy hole in the ground and no toilet paper. Imagine my surprise when I arrived at my in-laws' house and found a modern western bathroom complete with a roll of toilet paper! I later found out that they had remodelled that bathroom with me in mind. How sweet.

My sister in law Kamini once confided that Indians think Americans are disgusting for wiping themselves with paper. "How can one truly get clean?" she asked? I agreed, although I had never thought about it until that moment.

So after my stock of toilet paper ran out I was determined to "go native." They had installed a hand sprayer with a head on it that is similar to what you find next to the kitchen sink in some houses. I learned the hard way to press down gently unless I wanted my entire backside blasted with a ricochet of water all over the tank and wall. I also learned the hard way to avoid using the toilet sprayer after early morning. You see, their house has a shallow well dug under it which they fill with water trucked in from the mountain. The local tap water is not supposed to be real clean. The pump on top of the well sends the water to pipes on the roof of the two-story house and then gravity pulls it down into the house and creates a siphon effect. Well, the metal water pipes sit there and bake in the Indian sun and if no one has used the water for awhile it flows straight into the little toilet sprayer and I get the full near-boiling hot water treatment. The alternate method is to keep a bucket full of water next to the toilet and use what looks like a large liquid measuring cup with a spout and handle to clean yourself. (I also preferred the bucket method of bathing-- same concept-- because of the hot pipes, if I bathed after early morning or learned to mix a little hot water in a bucket of cold. Yes it is possible to have a complete shower with just 2.5 gallons of water.)

On my tour of India I came across many bathrooms. Here are the ones I remember the most:

-- The paid bathroom outside a temple. It had a row of stalls with concrete floors that were sprinkled with bleach powder. Problem was, there was no actual toilet. Just a slanted floor with a small drain in one corner. We had to pee on the actual floor. I guess they didn't want people pooping in their bathrooms! There was no bucket and cup to wash with. Just a waist-high faucet sticking out of the wall. When one positioned one's posterior under the faucet hoping for a dribble to wash with, instead one was blasted with a shower-like spray at high water pressure. The intention was to wash the stall completely. It was with some amusement that I watched person after person emerge from the bathroom completely drenched. But it was so hot I think after we got over the embarrassment we were grateful for it.

-- The bathroom in someone's house in the village. It was a communal home with several large family areas and a central courtyard. It was put together hodge-podge with concrete, corrugated plastic and steel roofs, and a central bathroom for everyone. It had the traditional squat toilet but what it did not have was a flush or any running water. One was expected to pour the bucket down the toilet after doing one's business and then refilling the bucket for the next person.

-- The dirty hostel in Tirupati. There was some mix-up with our hotel so we were forced to stay at the hostel. The sheets were very much used, the floors were filthy and we laid newspaper down. There was this huge stainless steel drum of water sitting under a dripping tap. I could never get the tap to turn on past a drip so I was forced to use the water in the drum for toilet purposes. Who knows who else had used that water or what for? Even though we had hiked about 10 km up a mountain path and were sweaty, I chose not to take a bath. I know I sound prudish when so many in India don't have fresh water. But at the time I was just thinking that a Motel 6 sounded great.

-- The bathroom at my mother-in-law's sister's house. It was a standard family bathroom, but the thing was that my cousin-in-law had just taken a shower so the bathroom was all steamy. The pressboard door didn't shut very well so I pulled it shut tighter. I discovered that it was stuck tight and I was trapped in there and no amount of pushing could open the door. Finally someone noticed I was missing and they pulled then handle and got me out.

-- Saving the best for last. We were travelling through the countryside and I just had to use the bathroom. We stopped by a roadside tea stand and found a mud brick bathroom. The concrete floor was filthy with human waste. The toilet drained just to outside and down a shallow grade to a grassy field. The thing that really got me though, was that I was told by the tea stand owner to dip my own water before I went in, as there was no bucket. He pointed to a algea-green goat trough. Yeah, I survived that one too.

That being said, I'm sure that all but the last toilet were still a heck of a lot cleaner than a toilet at any Wal-Mart in the U.S.

I have been told that this time we are going to five star hotels because of Nitara's health needs, her need for clean water and an outlet to recharge her pump battery. In a way I think I will miss the adventure of roughing it. Almost.

Links:

http://www.pbase.com/jtodhunter/indian_toilet

http://www.everything2.com/index.pl?node_id=1314998

http://www.scottcarneyonline.com/blog/2007/02/ode-to-indian-half-toilet.html

http://www.talesofasia.com/toilets-rs.htm

http://www.cromwell-intl.com/toilet/

Around the world in 30 hours

We got the tickets!! As planned, we will be spending the month of June in India! Total time spent in air: 24 hours (not counting the Phoenix to LA trip). Total time from LA to India: 30 hours. Air miles from here to there: 10,429

We have to get ourselves to LA by our own means. We will leave in the middle of the night from LA, fly along the coast up past Alaska, over and down to Taipei, Taiwan. That leg of the trip isn't bad because we sleep for awhile. In Taipei we are all herded into a holding area that is cut off from the rest of the airport, contains hard plastic chairs, a drinking fountain, and a bathroom. No diversions like TV, music, or even watching people pass by, and it's pitch black so we can't even look out the windows. Then back on the plane to Kuala Lumpur. That leg of the trip, from LA to KL lasts 19.5 hours total, not including the Taipei stop.

Those 19 hours are going to be so incredibly long. Not only my fear of flying which I try to hide as best I can for the sake of the kids, but the boredom. No matter how well I pack the kids' bags, there is no way we can pack enough stuff to keep them entertained that long. We will just have to cope. I remember last time that I was very grateful for on board entertainment. Except that, even though the airplane has several channels, they all run on a loop of about 6 hours. So by 18 hours you have watched everything that's interesting, played all the games until you are sick of them, and you actually care a lot about the next bit of food they bring around because that's the one thing left that you haven't seen or done yet. The flight attendants, bless their hearts, try to keep everyone happy with food. They bring the regular meals and then they bring little snacks in between. You look forward and learn to savor as long as possible even if it's a little wedge of soft cheese and some crackers. You learn to spread it on there artfully because there's nothing else to do. There is constant food, and most of it is pretty decent. The only bad food was when I ordered Indian vegetarian meals our second trip. Ugh! The Western vegetarian meal is pretty good. Don't ever order the regular meals unless you like things like broiled eel. My poor husband got that on our first trip over. It's not surprise that he declared himself a vegetarian a week or so after that meal.

The bathrooms. Where shall I start. There is a big area in the middle of the plane and again at the end where there are about 6 bathrooms. There is a constant line to the bathrooms, especially right after movies end or after meals. A lot of people just don't care about cleaning up after themselves and as a result the floors are covered with wet papertowels, there are no clean papertowels anywhere, all the little amenities like mouthwash and toothbrushes and even cheap maxi pads are gone in 15 minutes. The sinks have to be depressed to be emptied and no one bothers. The trash bins are overflowing. Oh, and how could I forget the socks? They give everyone a pair of polyester disposable socks to wear. A lot of people coming from warm climates wear sandals and that high up, your feet get pretty cold. But it's a good idea to remember to remove the socks before you go into the bathrooms. Yep, I learned that the hard way.

We will land in Kuala Lumpur at around noon their time. The airport is very modern and shiny, lots of glass and metalwork (see photo above). There's an underground train which the girls will probably enjoy. Last time our layover was more than 12 hours so we were shuttled to a hotel and allowed to take a shower and rest. This time our layover will be 7 hours and so we will be stuck to pass the time in whatever way we can inside the airport. We may be able to take a bus tour or something if we can get a temporary visa. Maybe I should look into that. They might even have showers like the Singapore airport does and if so we will be doing that for sure. I always pack fresh underwear. Which works out great unless you have to dump your bag on a table for random inspection. Yep, learned about that one the hard way, too. About 1.5 hours before our flight we will be checked into another holding area. It's glass enclosed and once in, you can't go out again. Last time there were no bathrooms and 15 month old Abi chose that moment to produce a poopy diaper. Note to self: have Nitara wear Pull-Ups for the trip. We will travel 3.5 more hours to Chennai, India on a smaller plane. This leg of the trip has mostly Indians. They play Bollywood movies instead of American and Chinese movies. The trip is short but seems like forever because we are so ready to get off planes for awhile.

But wait! We are not done yet! Because after we get off the plane in India at around 10 or so at night their time (exactly 12.5 hours different from the time we came from in the States), we have to wait in a long, long, long line. (See black and white photo above). Get our luggage, hope it hasn't been tampered with, go through customs. Then outside is where we will see our family waiting for us. They always have to hire a taxi for our luggage because their own cars are too small to fit it all in, plus all the people who come to meet us. Writing this, I can almost hear the sounds of the cars beeping and the put-put of the autorickshaws, and feel the warm humid air on my skin. And I can also almost feel the sandpapery feeling on my eyeballs from the jet lag, the feeling of not quite being there, the joy at seeing my family and wanting to talk to them all night but knowing that they are tired and want to go to bed.

My dad has offered to house-sit. He and Diana might even move into our house if they decide to remodel their kitchen. Our cat and fish will be taken care of. We need to wait for Abi's passport to come (her old one expired), get Visas for Vignesh and Nitara, shop for gifts, write and rewrite lists of what to bring and what to do before we leave. Ten weeks until we leave!

I found this travel page by Sue Knight and was finding myself nodding in agreement at what she said. She writes,

The air was damp and heavy and there was a pervasive pungent smell in the airport lounge but ‘lounge’ did not really seem apt. No one seems to lounge much at this airport. We stood waiting and scanning the belt for our bags for an hour before we realised that most of the luggage from our flight had been taken off the conveyor belt almost immediately and was piled in a heap at the back of this arrivals hall. The clues about quality assurance or the lack of it were everywhere. Arriving in India was different from anywhere else that I had experienced. . . . The air in Chennai is toxic. The fumes from the two stroke mopeds seep through the open windows and even what might seem to be the tightly sealed air-conditioned vehicles. It gets in your clothes, your nose, your eyes, your ears, the pores of your skin. It is virtually impossible not to associate in Chennai. It is an assault of the senses. And I fell in love with it.