Sunni Dawson

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The Bum Gun: an update.

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I’ve been requested to do an update on the bathroom situation here in Thailand.
 
Remember this blog post?

 

Yes, that’s me with the dreaded hose. 
 
My new Aussie friends affectionately call it the ‘Bum Gun’. An apt name I think. Squeezing the hose shoots a blast a water making one stand to attention. Great, alert, attention.
 
But, if the truth be known, I’ve grown to like it. A lot.
 
No, not in that way.
 
But in the refreshing, I’m here, I’m alive kinda way!  Not in the use half a toilet roll type way to make sure I’ve dabbed or scraped every last inch of… AND subsequently causing a dry sandpaper against sensitive skin irritation. But in the soft, super clean, invigorating kinda way.
 
Its a breath of fresh air! Or a blast of water. Or both.
 
And I really don’t need toilet paper anymore. Did I just say

that? Yes, I just did. 

 
Me, sans toilet paper??? Oui.
 
It makes sense in tropical climates. I mean the dribbles do dry relatively quickly. Including ones’ pants (that lovingly absorb the drips). And after all, it is only water. Its not stuff that can actually smell after a few hours. 🙂

My aim

And you will be pleased to know, my aim is much much better. Its now only on very rare occasions that I get my neck sprayed with shots of water.



This is a massive improvement. 

However, in saying this, just yesterday, I was squatting over a toilet, grabbed for the hose, stumbling slightly, and aimed in the general direction… Two seconds later the toilet cistern, walls and my back were covered in water. This happened twice yesterday. Two separate toilets. Two different hoses.

I gingerly hung out near a fan to help my clothes dry out. 

The general wetness

And I’ve kinda got used to the general wetness. Those slippery, smudgy floors that continue to grow in stages of wetness, like the ebb and flow of a 2 year old’s bath.
 
And I’m ignoring more and more the general mouldy growth emanating under the basin tap, rearing its green eyes at the base of the toilet bowl and its furry ears in the bottom corners of these wet rooms. We’re slowly becoming friends. Mr Green and I.
 
But still…
 
Although Mr Green and I are somewhat friendly, if the truth really be known, I have other friends that I whip out on occasion: Mr Anti-Wipe and Ms Gel. I love them both. A lot. They help me navigate new terrain, where Mr Green is not so friendly.

 

Hot tips for your own explorations!
 
So I thought it might be useful to give you some handy hints on navigating bathrooms in Asia, if ever you have the good fortune of coming here:
  1. Be prepared for wetness. A lot of it.
  2. Go in naked.
  3. Walk into the rooms very, very slowly. Think steady snail. Steady, slow snail…
  4. Practise shooting the Bum Gun into the toilet before using it on yourself. Test its strength. Its eagerness.
  5. Go in naked. It really helps. It really does.
  6. Definitely leave your bags outside.
  7. Non slippery thongs are very helpful. Or moon suction boots.
  8. Breathe in deeply BEFORE you enter. Then short shallow breaths throughout the process. Breathe out, a lot.
  9. Bring your friends. Mr Anti-Wipe and Ms Gel. And Captain Tissues (for those not yet ready to embrace Bum Gun’s full force).
  10. Go in naked.

Any other words of wisdom or advice gratefully received.

 

Gallant explorations in Thai bathrooms!

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Let me begin by describing what I am accustomed to. Bathrooms are generally dry places when a person is not having a bath or shower. Sometimes toilets are contained within bathrooms, but often they have their own small separate homes, neatly tucked away in a private space. 

Bathrooms have towel racks and whirring air vents to take away the humid moist filled air. Usually they have cupboard spaces and benches. And bath mats to ensure water is safely absorbed and not spread throughout the rest of the room.

Bathrooms in Thailand, lets just say, are different. At their best, they can be described as wetlands of adventure. At their worst, they can be described as a slaughterhouse of dirt and danger, to be feared by germ- a-phobes the world over!


The first thing you need to know about Thai bathrooms is that they are wet. This may be shocking to hear, but they are.

Usually a  pair of thongs or flipflops wait patiently outside a bathroom. All I can presume from this is that it is so your feet don’t get wet, but this is near impossible, with or without the thongs.

The doors to bathrooms are nearly always closed. This is, I presume, to keep the mould, air, dirt and stench beautifully contained so as to increase the aura and organisms multiplying whilst you are absent, in order to greet you happily and in plenitude at a further time.





So entering a Thai bathroom, with or without the thongs, you are always greeted to wet floors. The wetness could come from any of the following:

  1. The shower hose attached to the wall, which is usually positioned in the middle of the room and pointed over the toilet.
  2. The basin which greets the entry way.
  3. The bucket of water (large or small) and the smaller container which you use to scoop the water up either to wash yourself or flush the toilet.
  4. The toilet (which may or may not leak).
  5. The complimentary toilet hose. The hose is attached to the wall and has a helpful lever that can be pushed easily with a thumb to squirt strong spouts of water in the required areas.



















Lets first turn to number 4. The toilet. 


In most tourist hotels and destinations, there are ‘western’ style toilets. This means they have your standard toilet bowl and lid. Often they include a cistern with a press flush on the side. But not always. I am lucky enough to have a western toilet in my bungalow, but there is no flush.


So I get to use a bucket to flush my unmentionables down. 

But the truth is, I am just happy to be able to sit down. What a luxury! In many places all over Asia, they use drop toilets. This means one has to squat over a hole in the floor (and despite humans having squatted for centuries, I quite frankly like cushioning my behind on a seat). Squatting becomes extremely tricky when you are by travelling  by yourself and you carry your backpack with you into the toilet. 

I have tenderly balanced myself and my backpack over an incredibly slippery, dirty, smelly surface either side of a dark hole the size of my foot and with a stench that could knock a hippopotamus over.

My worst nightmare would be to slip. I practiced squats at every opportunity whilst travelling in Asia to gain the muscular stability necessary to hold me and a whole lotta luggage whilst precariously perching in mid air above a stinking hole.

Once the worst happened. I landed bare bum first in a slippery yellowy dirty wet mess. I was horrified. No amount of cleaning, bacterial gel or washing helped me feel clean for over a week. 

Let me be clear however, I am ok with the concept of drop toilets. I grew up with one in my home until I was about 6 years old. In Australia we call them ‘dunnies’ or ‘thunderboxes’. 

Dunnies rested out the back of houses, their wooden thrones cocooned in their own little light wooden rooms. I quite liked sitting on the wooden bench, legs dangling over the side and then depositing a handful of saw dust shavings after. Now this is the key I believe to drop toilets. Having a nice sprinkling of shavings and complementing it with other materials. Makes things a little more bearable in the stench department.

But in a lot of places in Asia, this does not exist. So we have a whole lot of odour to enjoy. A dogs paradise, but unfortunately not mine.

Now let us consider number 5. The toilet hose.












The toilet hose is both a revolution and a disaster for me… In Thailand, and most of Asia, the hose is  used instead of toilet paper. People hard water spray themselves, pull up their pants and go about their day.

The outcome of using this implement is what is important here. Having a good focused flush of cold water down there after relieving oneself, is quite frankly, very refreshing. And as long as the hose has a good pressure happening, it cleans really well. I like that.

There are however two major problems. The first is learning how to use the hose. In the first months of travelling in Asia a few years ago I tried to negotiate with the hose. The hose won every. single. time. The damage: water stains up my back, sides and very often everything from the waist down. If I was lucky, I also sprayed my backpack.


The second problem occurs once you have mastered the art of the hose (and I am pleased to report my now confident usage of the hose). It is the inevitable and most uncomfortable drips that happen after one uses the hose. They shiver and slide gleefully down ones leg, sometimes both, proud and free. 

I grew up having a relatively dry crotch and legs after going to the toilet. After 30 years of dryness, its a little hard to get used to wetness. Especially when it gets EVERYWHERE. 

And that inevitable wet patch that spreads from your crotch afterwards.

I saw a woman come out of a bathroom last week with a massive wet patch emanating from her jeans. She mustn’t have been completely comfortable with it because she was pulling at her jeans as she walked past me. I wouldn’t be comfortable with that either.

It is, of course, just water. Just the run off. Yes?

I asked one of my Indian friends how she finds it after she exits a toilet, she says you simply get used to it and it drys pretty quickly. Easy. Just. Like. That.

Now I have dangled over the toilet, trying to encourage the final drops of water out, but after a few minutes, I get bored and I just want to get on with my day.

But I’ve found an even better compromise. I now use the hose and use just a little tissue to dab it dry afterwards. Subsequently my crotch feels substantially better and more refreshed. And dry.

Now I’ve spent a decent amount of time in Asia and already being here now for a month, if the truth is to be known, I am actually starting to get used to the dribble, but, only in the privacy of my own bungalow thus far. 🙂

Here’s me, checking out the hose.