Stupid Things

For this instalment, I will be turning to a truly shitty topic.

If you have never travelled abroad, you probably have not given much consideration to the characteristics of your toilet and its associated accoutrements. Next time you pay a visit to the loo, take note of the quality of your toilet tissue, the water level in the bowl, the temperature of the seat itself, and the general atmosphere of this essential space that we all visit multiple times a day. Really get to know your shunky, because if you venture abroad, a foreign toilet will most likely be your very first cultural experience.

For me, the features of the standard American toilet are now a distant memory that I can barely recall. There have simply been too many water closets along the way. The one thing I do remember is the splash-back caused by excessively high water levels in the bowl.

What a waste.

My very first memorable toilet belonged to my grandmother. It was completely pink, with a hot-pink furry toilet lid cover and pale pink tiles. It smelled permanently of roses from her hand cream. Even now, the fragrance of roses instantly transports me back to that immaculate bathroom with its doll-topped toilet paper roll cover and jars of Oil of Olay.

I also remember the day I learned about electricity by inserting a safety pin into the electrical socket behind the toilet while pretending the outlet was a car ignition, then desperately trying to pull it back out before I could be discovered. Thank heaven I was wearing thick rubber-soled 1970s shoes at the time, or my life might have been much shorter.

If you think about it, you too probably carry a head full of memories made on the dunny, in the bathtub, or while hiding from your family behind a locked bathroom door.

The first time I encountered a Korean squat toilet, I genuinely did not know what I was looking at. I thought I had accidentally walked into the men’s bathroom by mistake. Once I realised I was actually expected to use it, I needed several minutes just to figure out how that was supposed to work.

I failed spectacularly.

I peed all over my shoes.

It took years to master the perfect position required to avoid wet feet and trouser legs. With each passing year, I refined my skills at avoiding contact with cubicle surfaces during the manoeuvre, which eventually included simultaneously deploying the flush one-footed.

By the time I came face to face with what may have been the world’s worst toilet — hidden behind a door marked WC in a back alley behind a restaurant in Bangkok — I had become surprisingly adept at squat toilet usage.

Number two, however, remained an eternal no.

I was never able to understand how that was even supposed to work.

This brings me to perhaps the most embarrassing mishap of my entire Korean experience, one that must first be prefaced with an apology to one unnamed church in Busan.

I am so sorry.

I truly could not help it.

Now, this terrible incident was not my first traumatic run-in with a Korean loo. The first time I used a bidet at a café, I accidentally sprayed the painting on the opposite wall because the digital control panel was entirely in Korean, which I could not yet read. I stood there trying to block the water jets with my face while simultaneously attempting to switch them off.

I was mortified when I had to explain why I returned to the table soaking wet, but even that humiliation pales in comparison to what I am about to confess.

To begin with, it is important to understand that I developed chronic and severe gastroenteritis during my first months in Korea. It lasted for seventeen years and eventually became IBS and later colon cancer. When your digestive system turns against you, knowing the location of every available toilet becomes an essential survival skill in any city.

But this was before Korea and I became quite so intimate.

One day, my lovely husband and I were taking a stroll through the very first neighbourhood where I had lived after arriving in Korea. I was showing him my old apartment building and the restaurants I used to frequent.

After a thoroughly unmemorable Sunday lunch, we wandered through the narrow, hilly residential lanes when I felt the first ominous stirrings deep within my intestinal tract.

We immediately began racing through the streets searching desperately for any open business that might offer relief from the torment that had already begun to make me sweat.

Then, like some heavenly auditory mirage, the sound of a church choir drifted through the air.

At the side of the church stood an open toilet door, mercifully isolated from the congregation, who were still occupied bringing their worship service to a close.

I bolted inside.

To my horror, I discovered a squat toilet.

There was nothing to do except summon every ounce of toilet upskilling I had accumulated over the years and attempt to achieve the perfect position — a position I still have not fully mastered.

But this time, I overshot.

I stood up and surveyed the damage.

It was worse than you can possibly imagine.

And there was absolutely nothing I could do to clean it up.

Then I heard the church bells.

Realising that discovery was imminent, I fled into the street in search of my spouse. Together, we ran away fast.

We ran far.

All I can say in my defence is that, in that moment, I felt absolute terror.

Until now, this story has remained our private joke.

Every so often, one of us will casually ask, “Do you remember the poop and run?” and we both collapse into laughter.

I think it was on that day that he truly became my best friend.

My Top 5 Toilets of the World

My all-time favourite loos are, collectively, every public toilet in Scotland that provides free feminine hygiene products for anyone who needs them. This includes university campuses, train stations, and countless public facilities across the country. There is something deeply civilised about living in a place that quietly acknowledges basic human needs without shame or inconvenience. Scotland set the gold standard for me.

Coming in second, the lobby ladies’ room in The Westin Josun Seoul has long held a sacred place in my personal toilet hall of fame. I have spent a penny in the B1 loos there more times than I can count. The space is all dark polished surfaces, calming music, and hand soap so luxurious you briefly consider smuggling it home in your handbag. The stalls are roomy enough for a full wardrobe change, the seats are permanently warm, and the entire experience feels less like a bathroom break and more like a wellness retreat. Highly recommend a visit, even if you do not actually need to wee.

Mere blocks away sits my third favourite WC: the ladies’ restroom in the basement dining hall of Shinsegae Department Store Main Branch in Seoul. While slightly less luxurious than the Josun Hotel restroom, it delivers the same zen-like atmosphere, only with a bit more hustle and bustle. This particular loo comes with the added bonus of being attached to what I firmly believe is the greatest department store on Earth, with easy access to the subway through the Namdaemun Market underground shopping arcade.

Fourth on the list is a new addition. The ladies’ restroom at The Forum Melbourne is definitely something to experience. It is a luxe, decadent trip into 1920s Melbourne. Its large carpeted lounge, gold-trimmed mirrors, and marble tables provide a welcome respite from crowd overstimulation and concert volume. The entire heritage building is one of my favourite features of the Melbourne skyline.

My fifth favourite public toilet no longer exists. The ladies’ loo in the now-closed Marks & Spencer at the Bon Accord Shopping Centre in Aberdeen reminded me of my grandmother’s bathroom — though I believe her tiles were pink rather than aqua. It was also one of the cleanest and safest toilets in Aberdeen city centre. Every time I stopped there for a wee break, I felt completely at home.