I had a bad feeling as my eight-year-old and I stood in line for the toilets one day in Thailand. We were on the remote Khai Island, a 45-minute speedboat ride from Phuket in the Andaman Sea. Surrounded by emerald-green water, this sandy little strip of land boasted of fantastic snorkelling thanks to the abundant marine life and coral along the shallow coast. Little did we know this little slice of paradise would also include a cultural lesson when nature called.
 My uneasiness started as soon as I realised that everyone standing ahead of me in line already held wads of toilet paper. I turned back to the entrance where a sweet little old Asian lady, anticipating my return, pulled a bundle off and handed it to me.
The second clue was the huge commotion taking place on the other side of the stall door. The scene was chaotic, not the typical controlled setting of a Western bathroom where a simple flush preceded the click of the door lock releasing. Instead, water sloshed and slapped against hard surfaces. It lapped across the floor like little waves rushing onto a beach then flowed into a trough that ran right under the door, eventually disappearing into a hole cut out of the side wall.
Just how does a grown woman who relishes the conveniences of the modern world end up with an open sewer swirling near her ankles? Well, it involves four very different personalities, including a little boy who thinks it would be cool to ride an elephant, a daughter saving her money for a big shopping spree, and an overworked husband in desperate need of a poolside lounge and ice cold beer. Throw into the mix a mum looking for a safe travel destination, a beautiful beach for sunset walks, and an introduction into the exotic Asian continent, and you've got a family dusting off the passports and cashing in the frequent flyer miles. Even the recent political turmoil - which affected only the northern part of Thailand around Bangkok and not the southern area near Phuket where we stayed - couldn't prevent us from taking advantage of all Thailand had to offer, including a great exchange rate of AU $1 for 30 baht.
"Samantha," I warned, trying not to sound too panicky as a river of cloudy water ran a few inches from our toes. "These toilets might be a little different." Inside I cringed. Oh, please, please, let me be mistaken, I prayed as the door opened. But I was on my own, without any help from the heavens above. I let out a groan as the occupant left and I stood facing a porcelain hole in the ground. Next to it, a ladle floated on top of a barrel of water. Ah, the primitive flushing mechanism. Lovely, just lovely, I thought, my feet smacking on the wet floor as I entered.
"What is that?" Samantha asked, hesitating in the doorway as if she'd just stumbled upon a two-headed alien.
"That is how some people use the toilet in Thailand," I casually explained, pulling her reluctant body into the stall. "It’s called an Asian toilet. You put your feet on these two parts, squat over it, and do your business. No big deal." It is a mild understatement to say that Samantha was not impressed and that what followed next will probably result in thousands of dollars of therapy sessions down the road to straighten that kid back out.
"Where do I throw my toilet paper and where's the flusher?" She asked with a baffled look, searching the toilet's edges for a secret rubbish door. Does it flush on its own?
Not quite,ť I replied. "After you're finished, the toilet paper goes in this bucket." I pointed to a small rubbish bin in the corner. 
"And this is how we flush." I said, scooping up water with the ladle. She looked on horrified, mouth gapping open, as I tossed the water into the basin and it poured over the sides, my do-it-yourself wastewater treatment system suddenly on its own course. The water fanned across the floor and we scurried to the back corner of the stall as little ripples threatened to reach our feet. Corralled by gravity, it finally trickled into the trough and vanished, leaving only a glossy, wet streak across the cream-coloured floor tiles.
"Yuck! Yuck ! Yuck!" Samantha exclaimed, darting past me and racing out the door. "That's disgusting!" She shouted over her shoulder as she ran down the sandy path to the beach. Four months later, Samantha's opinion of the Asian toilet has softened. While she still talks about the silly toilet in Thailandť, it's taught her a great lesson in accepting the differences between her homeland and one she happens to be visiting. Both of us learned a lot that day on Khai Island thanks to that eye-opening introduction to a very basic element of Thailand life. But most of all, we discovered the importance of keeping an open mind (and closed-toed shoes) when experiencing everything another culture has to offer. Because of that I now have two little travellers asking, “When can we go back to Thailand?ť And I tell them, Just as soon as Dad builds up the frequent flyer miles.ť |
