T.P.

I'm not embarassed to admit that toilet paper has long been a bit of a personal obsession. It's not about the softness, or thickness, and I have no firm opinion for any debates about the merit of 2 ply versus 1 ply. I just have a bit of a phobia about, well, being caught unprepared and unsupplied.

So knowing about this little quirk, (I consider it oddly charming, myself) you'd probably be surprised to learn that on our 3-day hike in the hill country above Chiang Mai (northeast part of Thailand), I actually skimped on toilet paper supplies. Faced with having to carry my own pack, a pack which need to hold enough warm clothes for 2 nights of freezing temperatures sleeping in bamboo shacks, I opted for thermal underwear and went light on the t.p. supplies. I did some calculations and projections in my head based on the number of days I'd be in the bush, and packed a modest amount of t.p. for the hike.

If you've never travelled to Asia you may be wondering why I'd be packing toilet paper. I'm not going to be so stupid as to say that Asian-style toilets are inferior to Western, they're just different. But to our sensitive Canadian bottoms, its a bit of a shock at first - though an excellent way to strengthen your quad muscles and improve your balance. Asian-style toilets are squatters, so regardless of the business you're there to conduct, you'd don't sit down, you just strategically hover over a hole, a couple inches from the ground. Fancy ones are porcelain, flush and there's a spray hose to clean up, which makes t.p. redundant, if you can get the hang of things.

We've developed a rating system for the toilets since we've been here, and sometimes, even if you don't need to use the facilities, if a toilet has been given a good rating, you make a visit just to sort of take advantage of the situation.

Elements of the Rating System
1) Is it Western? Being in mostly touristy spots, we do sometimes go days between needing to squat. Western doesn't always mean better though, as cleanliness and disrepair can sometimes bring down the rating. As a result, sometimes a pristine squat toilet is a real treat.
2) Is the toilet paper supplied? The fancier spots supply paper, no extra charge. But you perpetually wander around with a wad of t.p. in your pocket, just to be safe.
3) Locking System? It's actually shocking how this now seems like a complete luxury, and I could really care less if someone walks in on me.
4) Light supply? Scary things lurk in the dark corners of outhouses - this is not unique to Asia. A flashlight has been critical at times to take stock of the surroundings, pre-squat, or simply just to find the facilities in the middle of the night.
5) Proximity of livestock? In one village on a trek I had to dodge a large hog, who was loitering in the yard near the toilet. Talk about performance anxiety, when you can hear a 300-pound pig snuffling near the doorway. (In a outhouse that clearly doesn't lock.)
6) Hose or bucket? As I said, fancy toilets have the hose, or as Jen phrased it, the butt spray. Most toilets have a bucket of standing water and a small bowl to 'wash' and flush. It's surprisingly refreshing, but actually not that traumatic at all.
7) Sink and soap? Hardly guaranteed, so Purell becomes your best friend.
8) Garbage Pail? Only really super-swank places actually let you flush the toilet paper. So a garbage pail is usually nearby for disposal. When the garbage pail is missing in action, you are left facing a moral dilemma.

Ah, but back to the 3 day trek and my scrimping on t.p. Let's just say my projections were a touch off. And all careful calculations and rationing can be blown to smithereens by a bit of homemade chili sauce consumed in the bush. By the third morning I was completely without t.p. and had to resort to the bucket or begging supplies from Jen. Kathy was similarly unsupplied - a small comfort that I wasn't the only idiot. About 2 hours away from civilization we stopped at a waterfall in a national park. Unforseen circumstances 'wiped' out all of Jen's t.p. but a solitary square and a half. I don't think I've ever seen her quite so disappointed with me when I broke the tragic news. A sign of a true friend though, willing to part with her last few squares of toilet paper - a friend for life, I would say.