Friendly warning: This blog is slightly disturbing and may be offensive to some readers. Please read on at your own risk. 🙂
I had no clue how to work it. I mean, they never taught me about this kind of stuff in writing class. Or in speech. Or even in geography. I think they should have covered it somewhere, only because the whole thing was so downright traumatizing.
Unfortunately, it just never came up, and so I was ill-prepared.
When I went to Africa, using the restroom was the same as in America, only less water. The Netherlands and New Zealand – no big deal either. I could use the potty with ease.
Then I got to Japan. While I was on the military base, everything was fine – and quite familiar to me. Sit, do your business, flush.
Then we went for a hike in a rural area of Okinawa, and that’s when I encountered it at one of the local parks. It’s called a squatter.
I stood back and watched ladies go in and out of the stall. They didn’t seem to take long. They didn’t seem unduly stressed.
They were obviously gifted. That, and rather short. Which according to my calculations would make a significant difference in their targeting success.
I ventured close and peaked in. Had images of… well, I won’t take you to that part of my brain. Suffice it to say, I didn’t take a change of clothes and I thought after using that thing, I might need a new set.
The ladies with me laughed at my fears. And graciously pointed me to another restroom for us taller girls, with a place to sit and everything.
I thanked my lucky stars.
That was three months ago. I was actually going to keep the whole adventure to myself until I went to Oregon this last weekend and came across another unique potty place.
So yes. I did. I took a picture because I knew you would get a kick out of it (make sure you read the sign):
So there you have it. I had to write a blog and share two potty pictures. I just hope you weren’t looking for anything deep and profound today. And if so, I’ll leave you with this: If you ever go to Japan, bring an extra set of clothes, and if you go to Oregon, be prepared to pee-pee in a guitar.