Turkish Toilets

NOTE: Excuse the rather base subject, but one must occasinoally discuss such things. They should, however, be approached in a respectful and dignified manner. Or something like that.

Having had a bit of intestinal difficulty recently, I visited the doctor at the local clinic, as I mentioned earlier. He prescribed a certain medicine with laxative properties, which I immediately procured in the pharmacy. The pharmacist, a young woman who was not in the least unattractive, repaired to the rear of the establishment in search of the product.

"Vous-etes constipe?" she asked me upon her return.

I responded in the affirmative, trying to figure out why else someone would buy a laxative. Perhaps she thought me the perpetrator of a some sort of locker room prank? Well, I would never know, since I preferred to change the subject as quickly as possible.

Arriving back at Abdou's home; I took slightly less than the recommended dosage of said medicine. It had a disgusting, slimy consistency and a horrible taste, and I choked in down sadly and bitterly. It was not long, however, before I had the opportunity to verify the efficacy of Moroccan medicine.

While doing so, I had the chance and the free time to let my mind wander and to consider somewhat base subjects and strange themes consistent with my environment.

I thought back again to the television program I saw about the Koran, on which a man recommended not dallying in the bathroom. I thought of Abdou telling me how he enters with the left foot and leaves with the right (my mistake in last post), and how upon entering, every time, he says something like "I spit on the devil". I also thought of how Abdou told me that once or twice he forgot his bathroom etiquette and starting humming, and how his mother rapped heavily on the door, yelling at him to stop all the music and take care of business. I thought too of my friend Taoufik, and how he giggled and said "ewww" when I told him that, yes, indeed, in my country people do read while using the sanitary facilities.

I daydreamed, thinking of all the bathrooms I had ever visited, and of the mockumentary entitled "Bathrooms of the World" that I made years ago with a dear friend.

And it occurred to me--on many fronts I have problems with American culture and politics and all the rest. I mourn the dissolution of the American family, the consumerism of the general public, the xenophobia and ignorance of many of my fellow citizens. BUT, it also occurred to me that in America, we sure do make a fine bathroom.

I do not presume to know the true history of the Western toilet or the typical American bathroom. I would like to believe that Mr. Crapper really is somehow responsible, but that story seems doubtful to me. I don't know who truly deserves the credit for the bathrooms of the United States of America, but someone surely does and I salute that person proudly and hail their achievement.

We have taken, in America, a wholly disgusting, albeit natural affair, and turned it into a luxurious and comfortable, even pleasant experience. We have built a throne and introduced the literary arts into the experience of human waste removal. We have placed the shower, toilet, mirror and sink in the same cloistered environment, allowing us to truly enjoy a "pitstop" type experience. In some cases, people even enjoy a sound system in the same room.

George Castanza is, of course, the ultimate fictitious standard bearer for this tradition, having turned a handicapped facility into an airy, well decorated room, complete with a wet-bar and a wealth of reading material.

And the Japanese, as we all know, have taken this a step further, a crucial step, with their technologically advanced toilets doing all sorts of crazy stuff.

Paradise.

And so, I say, Moroccans have better food, and I find their country filled with cultural wealth and myriad treasures in all the arts. But, for me, whether I am in Morocco or India or Italy or France, a hole in the floor just does not quite cut it. I can handle it, but I don't have to like it.

I don't wish to in any way assume an air of condescension or superiority. Things are just different, not necessarily better. Still, for me, the day that Mr. Western built his throne and raised the walls of a tiled palace around it, he not only made something new and different, but he took a step forward for all of humanity.

And that's all I have to say about that. Enough for today. Have a good day.