NOTICE: The entry below delves in the nether regions of our *er* bodily functions. Those easily offended, and those in squeamish environments may not want to read the post below.
Those of us who have traveled to Europe and other parts of this World, may have run into one of these while in search of relief from their bodily functions.
Back when I lived in Italy in 1988 they were all over Europe. For those of us who can find relief for *er* (let's call it Number One), in a full standing position, it's no problem. Just stand on the porcelain foot pads and point towards the hole in the ground. However, when one has to seek redress for *er* (let's call it Number Two), things can get "dicey".
First place your feet in the porcelain pads, turn around and face away from the hole in the floor.
Second, un-do the brooch festooning your breeches, and carefully - VERY CAREFULLY - bring them down to your ankles. If you do not pay attention to this manoeouvre, you breeches will come in contact with the bespoilt porcelain surface, which will hinder the enjoyment of the rest of your day.
Then, while keeping your breeches from touching the porcelain, gingerly assume *er* a "Ski-Jump" position. Make certain that your *er* "fiddy bits" fall behind your ankle-rumpled pantaloons, and that said "fiddy bits" point towards the rear. For if per chance, your "fiddy bits'"font doth spatters forth, your pantaloons will be equally soiled.
Once the above steps are judiciously taken, you are ready to let it rip.
This may sound too complicated, but with the practice that necessity does requires, anyone can master this complex "Ski Jump" manoeouvre. But once you think you have mastered it, life always throws you a curve ball.
Back in 1992, after a week long indulgence of all the tasty treats that Turkey had to offer, I developed an acute case of "The Istanbul Intestines". It hit me the morning of us taking the train from Istanbul to Ankara. This Turkish train, unlike every other train I've ridden, had what else: Turkish Toilets. Imagine yourself having to assume "The Ski Jump" position; having to take care of all the complex steps detailed in the above admonitions, all while the whole WC is shimming and shaking, as it races down the tracks at 70 mph. Those stuffed mussels I had the night prior were heavenly, but talk about Collateral Damage!!! That WC was never the same after I was done with it.
But moving on; to my pleasant surprise I hardly found one of these toilets in my subsequent visit to Europe in 2002, and even less in '06. It seems that the Europeans, are upgrading all of their public toilets to our standard American Commodes. You might say: A great leap forward for civilization!
But not so fast. After much progress, the city of Manchester England, has re-installed these obsolescent monstrosities in an effort to be cultural sensitive to its burgeoning Muslim Asian community.
The Daily Mail reports:
Ah - the joys of multiculturalism. Thomas Crapper, the English inventor of the modern commode would be turning over in his grave.
Read the article: HERE
Boq
For a different kind of squatting...
Those of us who have traveled to Europe and other parts of this World, may have run into one of these while in search of relief from their bodily functions.
Back when I lived in Italy in 1988 they were all over Europe. For those of us who can find relief for *er* (let's call it Number One), in a full standing position, it's no problem. Just stand on the porcelain foot pads and point towards the hole in the ground. However, when one has to seek redress for *er* (let's call it Number Two), things can get "dicey".
First place your feet in the porcelain pads, turn around and face away from the hole in the floor.
Second, un-do the brooch festooning your breeches, and carefully - VERY CAREFULLY - bring them down to your ankles. If you do not pay attention to this manoeouvre, you breeches will come in contact with the bespoilt porcelain surface, which will hinder the enjoyment of the rest of your day.
Then, while keeping your breeches from touching the porcelain, gingerly assume *er* a "Ski-Jump" position. Make certain that your *er* "fiddy bits" fall behind your ankle-rumpled pantaloons, and that said "fiddy bits" point towards the rear. For if per chance, your "fiddy bits'"font doth spatters forth, your pantaloons will be equally soiled.
Once the above steps are judiciously taken, you are ready to let it rip.
This may sound too complicated, but with the practice that necessity does requires, anyone can master this complex "Ski Jump" manoeouvre. But once you think you have mastered it, life always throws you a curve ball.
Back in 1992, after a week long indulgence of all the tasty treats that Turkey had to offer, I developed an acute case of "The Istanbul Intestines". It hit me the morning of us taking the train from Istanbul to Ankara. This Turkish train, unlike every other train I've ridden, had what else: Turkish Toilets. Imagine yourself having to assume "The Ski Jump" position; having to take care of all the complex steps detailed in the above admonitions, all while the whole WC is shimming and shaking, as it races down the tracks at 70 mph. Those stuffed mussels I had the night prior were heavenly, but talk about Collateral Damage!!! That WC was never the same after I was done with it.
But moving on; to my pleasant surprise I hardly found one of these toilets in my subsequent visit to Europe in 2002, and even less in '06. It seems that the Europeans, are upgrading all of their public toilets to our standard American Commodes. You might say: A great leap forward for civilization!
But not so fast. After much progress, the city of Manchester England, has re-installed these obsolescent monstrosities in an effort to be cultural sensitive to its burgeoning Muslim Asian community.
The Daily Mail reports:
...this basic form of plumbing, also known as a Turkish toilet or Nile pan, could be coming to a shopping centre near you - and all in the name of cultural sensitivity.
From next week, shoppers in Rochdale who push open the cubicle door expecting the reassuring sight of a modern, clean lavatory could instead be faced with little more than a hole in the ground.
Bosses of the Greater Manchester town's Exchange mall have installed two as part of an upgrade costing several thousand pounds after attending a cultural awareness course run by a local Muslim community activist.
Ah - the joys of multiculturalism. Thomas Crapper, the English inventor of the modern commode would be turning over in his grave.
Read the article: HERE
Boq
They'll be faced with more than that. There's no water barrier in a Turkish Toilet to prevent sewer gas from backing up and into the "cubicle"...
I do hope the PC dolts at the Exchange Mall followed the ME design of the WC -- windows opening to the *outdoors* and oriented so the prevailing winds ventilate the place. If they didn't, their customers will disappear during the summer. If they did, their customers will disappear during the winter. There's a *reason* that type of facility is no longer popular where the temps drop below freezing.
The porcelain pan would be an upgrade to the hole-in-the-floor facility I encountered at a regional wildlife park in India. There was a nice wooden door to keep out critters, though - which seemed an extravagance, comparitively. For those of us who are not used to standing for either style of ejection, it was an experience.
Having spent a part of my young adulthood in some of the Earth’s more interesting jungles, I, too, have a deep appreciation for the miracle of modern indoor plumbing. But, folks, we’ve got trouble right here in Plumbing City. In addition to the desert barbarians attacking our societal gates, we have the insidious subversion of those who hold our consumptive debt. Yes, the ChiComs have opened their offensive to undermine America’s sanitariness, and, in conjunction with their enviro-nitwit allies, have introduced and, perhaps, monopolized what are euphemistically referred to as “low-flow” (no-flow??) toilets. Well, guys, it ain’t “low-flow” if you have to flush it three times.
Apparently, the ChiComs, in their rush to drive Americans out of another industry, failed to begin their research with the good Mr. Crapper and also failed to adequately survey the weight and volume of excrement deposited once daily (Thank God) by an American male of, say, 6-feet+ height and 200 pounds+ weight. While they certainly reached their “low” goals by reducing the size of the hole and the amount of water used, they grossly underestimated the “flow” capability when dealing with the discharges of a FULLY GROWN human being. I mean how can they totally disregard their twenty years of experience using indoor plumbing. And I don’t think they have. I see nothing but intentionally here, slowly but surely raising the stress levels of Americans by disturbing and complicating one of life’s most basic and intimate functions. Even my sweetheart, a woman of near infinite patience, as I’m sure you have already guessed, and who coined the expression, “Don’t involve me in anything that doesn’t include a tile bathroom” is beginning to complain and looking into forming a Pee Party. Myself, I’m, slowly but surely, slipping into bathroom-phobia.
We had a Mandatory Cultural Awareness meeting here in 2008 because the folks at corporate decided we might inadvertently offend the kaydets or the IqAF senior staff we deal with. The speaker -- an Iraqi Army interpreter -- welcomed us and started off with:
"Welcome to Iraq. The hatred you hear about between Sunni and Shi'a around here? It's bullsh*t. The "kill the infidel" stuff you hear about us? It's bullsh*t. The prohibition against alcohol you have because it's offensive to us? It's bullsh*t. Be polite and expect politeness in return. Arguing is fine with Iraqis -- we *love* to argue -- and then we'll have chai together after. One word of warning -- don't expect to get anything on time, and don't expect anyone to be somewhere at a certain time unless you stress that you will be offended if he isn't there -- we're still getting used to the idea that a wristwatch isn't just a piece of jewelry. Any questions?"
I grew up in rural area and outhouses weren't just kitchy garden decorations but even they are better than Turkish toilets. Except of course when wasps build nests *under* the seats.
BTW I could live with the hole of hell far more easily than the *reusable* sponge. TP is sacred do not ever take that away from me. Yes in desparate times out bush i've used alternatives. Stick to TP. Really.
This reminds me of a sad story. A childhood acquaintance of the ex-Sweety was the offspring of a right burnt-out acidhead hippy and one of her R&R-musician boyfriends. Needless to say, he was not gently reared. Among the many misfortunes of his upbringing, he was sent off to Hari Krishna summer camp one time. The kids were encouraged to sh!t in the woods and wipe up with leaves.
The kids were not taught how to identify poison ivy.
I think the idiots from the Mall should be locked in one for at least an hour - that would make for an excellent cultural awareness lesson
And, BOQ, you ROLL UP your pants BEFORE you step on these footpads...
There was no toilet paper in any of the public/office restrooms in the USSR/Russia and when one traveled outside St. Pete and Moscow, one ALWAYS brought one's own roll even if one was staying at the hotel/resort/cruise ship. I believe it is the same even now because a couple of years ago I read the "what you need to know" for the American exchange students attending summer classes in St. Pete State University, and one of the things on the "must bring" list was toilet paper...