Travel Essays
Middle East

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Jordan “bathroom”
  Wadi Rum was home to T.E. Lawrence and his merry band of marauding Bedouin during W.W.I, when they raged guerilla warfare against their  colonial Turkish overlords.  For a while, this scenic valley in southern Jordan became the most spectacular toilet in the world for me.
  The night before, my travelling companion and myself had finished our  visit to Petra, and, heading out to the desert to camp, grabbed a six pack, some bread, and a rotisserie chicken.  The next morning, the storm that was building outside was nothing compared to the storm that was building in my sensitive stomach.
  I rose around 6:00 am, and, feeling odd, ventured outside. The new sun was warming the faces of the monoliths that rise like huge stone dumplings from the sandy valley floor. I felt like I had a few of  these dumplings in my gut. I grabbed the TP and headed up a dune, behind some scrub, for a little privacy.
  It didn't take long for the floodgates to open. And open they did, as I repeatedly loosed myself on the sandy floor. I wouldn't finish wiping before the onslaught started yet again. I'd go, wipe, zip up, walk a pace, and start again. In addition to being painful, it was ridiculous.
  But, what a setting to be stricken in.
  DC in Pittsburgh  

Egypt
  In 1985, I was visiting the Pyramids in Giza with a group of about 20.  Mid-day, in the sweltering sun, I knew a call from nature was imminent...I had just climbed out of  Cheops and was "doing the dance" (if you know what I mean).  I was beyond desperate and asked our Egyptian leader where the facilities were.  He pointed to a shack next to some sort of broken down building right in the desert.  I went in and will NEVER forget what I saw:  the only toilet there was a standard toilet, complete with seat.  However, there was a 6-inch layer of black oozing slime around the base, and the seat literally had greenish brown algae growing on it.  The inside of the bowl was black from stagnant organic matter, and  some sort of rusty pipe was sticking out of the bowl.  The stench reminded me of an elephant stall, and the dirt floors were filthier than just dirt.  I had my camera with me, took a photo of the toilet (which later won a small photography contest - I have the photo in my picture album today)and knew I would die of bowel obstruction before I would use this toilet.  I left, in tears, and eventually made it to a slightly better facility.

On The Train From Cairo To Aswan...
  Just before the 14 hour train ride from Cairo to Aswan I indulged in some of the local ice cream as we were killing time before the train departed.  My travel mate ate some as well...and finished what I didn't eat.
  We boarded the train around 11 PM and began the long journey south.  After a few hours I fell asleep only to be jolted back to consciousness by a horrible cramping in my stomach.  I sat there for a moment contemplating my options (we had nearly 10 hours left on the trip and everyone else on the train seemed to be sleeping) when I realized a trip to the bathroom was eminent.  I got up and raced to the restroom.
  The bathrooms on the train are unisex.  They are also filthy beyond belief.  The smell as I entered was enough to send me in to a fit of dry-heaves.  So, I did my best not to breathe through my nose but since I already had I could practically taste the ammonia stench that filled the 3X3 cubicle.
  My stomach was in fits now!  Looking at the toilet I knew there was no way, even with the most skilled "ass-gasket" made of toilet paper, that I could sit on the seat.  Fortunately there was a handle of sorts on the wall in front of the toilet.  I grasped on to that and proceeded to hang myself over the toilet as best I could.  In my condition I was quite weak so holding my entire body weight with one arm and trying to aim was quite a task.  At the same time I'm trying my best not to touch anything else in the putrid room!
  After relieving myself (not to say that I was at all relieved) I took one look at the sink, thought about the water that must be pumped through the train, and opted to no even wash my hands in there.  Needless to say, I felt like every inch of me from my shoes to the top of my head was some how infested with filth!
  I went back to my seat, curled up for the rest of the 10 hour trip, and endured the most painful stomach cramps until our arrival in the hotel in Aswan rather than returning to the bathroom on the train for fear that I would start throwing up, too, and make my situation twice as bad!  Needless to say this was the longest train ride of my life!

 

 

 

Surans Restaurant.  (Iran, 1947)
  Now, Suran's restaurant was located in the Abadan, Iran, bazaar near to a creek which ran into the Shaft-el -arab river.  On the map it was called Abadan Creek. But to the expats,in view of its smell and color it was known as Sh*t Creek. At weekends,to break the monotonythe, expats would go to Suran's armenian restaurant to chomp on cahwu (a large frond of lettuce) and Juje (a small, barbequed chicken) All washed down with Majedieh beer or Ettehadieh vodka. The vodka burned well in a cigarette lighter. I was taken there in 1947 and while there needed to use the restroom.  A shed outside the restaurant was indicated as the place.  Opening the door I reeled back but taking some very deep breaths re-entered. There being no light I struck a match.  As the match flared I observed the usual footprints on the floor close to a hole down which a horde of black beetles rushed while on the walls, lizards and dragonflies engaged in violent combat. On returning to Suran's I told my friend what I had seen.  He looked at me and said "lucky you didn’t throw the match down the hole, we would have all been blown up for sure!

Morocco
  My husband and I set off for a journey to Morocco, where the bidet is common, and a toilet (from the western world) is just decor.  While in Tangier, I had straddled and done the deed for over a week.  I had pretty good aim and was used to every toilet being covered in sewage.  I always kept extra tissue on me so going to the toilet was a major experience and usually a struggle.  But one day, we were eating in McDalen's (trying to find McDonalds's) a nice restaurant, with toilets.  But I realised something very important that day.  Some things we just can't teach people how to use.  Though I was pleased to have found a nice porcelain western toilet, with toilet paper as well, it was still covered in sewage.  I learned that you can never really re-potty train someone.  It is what we are comfortable with and many Moroccans who probably came into contact with this toilet, just didn't know what to do or even where to begin as many of us westerners whose aim has not yet perfected itself when we squat.
  The next toilet was a squat toilet/shower, needless to say I didn't bathe for three days as I don;t think I would have come out cleaner than when I would have gone in.
  If you don't know how to use something, you should ask or leave it alone.

Riyadh, Saudi Arabia
  In 1990, prior to the Gulf War, our military advisory team was on a temporary duty assignment to Riyadh, Saudi Arabia.  Being guests of the Saudi government, they provided lodging at a 5-star hotel.  The hotel room was equipped with all the comforts of home, and then some - magnificent!  Being a European built hotel, the bathroom was equipped with a French bidet.  On our first night, one of the senior colonels on the team had an early morning nature call and in the darkness did not realize he was sitting on the bidet instead of the toilet.  Imagine his surprise when he flushed the "toilet" while still sitting on it! Nothing else went well for him the entire trip (Montezuma’s revenge, misplaced passport, failure to pack underwear...)  His  entire visit got started off on a bidet! (bad day)

Saudi Arabia
 
Though you probably won't get a tourist visa for that place, you might work and live there. Most places have the American style sit down type, especially in your own encampment. In other places you'll find plenty of toilets BUT the broken seat syndrome rears its ugly head. I don't know exactly what they do but whatever it is it ends up breaking the seats.
  Funny thing happens...at the mosque there is a place where people must wash their feet prior to entering the mosque. We are not allowed in so we don't usually see these. It is a bunch of faucets and a drain against a wall. In downtown Daharan a mosque is on the roof of a dept store, next to the restrooms. As you walk in you pass the place they wash off. So...to a lot of Americans it looks a lot like a public urinal.... ergo you will see signs cautioning you not to use the ablation place for a urinal. In cases where they do have toilets I think they come from other countries that don't really understand the complexities of the modern toilet. The problem we experienced in our encampment was that they flush with a blast of water, no holding tank, and the design is such that the upper part of the bowel is like a small ledge. The result is that if you don't drop a piece of TP in before you sit down you'll end up with your toilet bowel coated with your own waste.

Cairo, Egypt
  Several years ago I was assigned as an Aide-de-Camp for a 4-star general. The general and his entourage of lesser ranking generals and a couple of colonels were intent on visiting an obscure, austere Air Base a few miles outside of Cairo.  The Air Base was under construction and although the host general had indoor plumbing, there was still no running water.  We had been on the road for almost three hours, drinking bottled water to prevent dehydration,  and we were anxious for some relief.  The Egyptian general had the only indoor bathroom on the Base...and it accommodated only one person at a time.  Being the lowest ranking individual (Captain) in the entourage, I of course was the last one to go.  Suffice to say that the aroma in that small room was somewhat less than pleasant.  Since there was no running water, it was impossible to wash your hands.  Standing  outside the room was an Egyptian
orderly who sprayed your hands with some sort of lemon water concoction, but had no towels to hand out.  One had to rub his hands together to dry off.  And wouldn't you know it, we got to the host general's office just in time for lunch!

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