A fair warning before you read further: Please exit right now if you are averse to reading about global bathrooms and my nostalgia.
For the rest of you, welcome to the chronicles of the commode. It is a subject we rarely discuss in polite company, yet it dictates the rhythm of our lives—especially when we travel.
The Early Days: Fear in the Fields
My relationship with this daily ritual began with a mix of affection and terror. From early childhood in India, I loved visiting our ancestral village in Telangana. The days were filled with simple joys, but I was terrified about going to the fields to complete the daily rituals.
In the 60s and 70s, village homes didn't have bathrooms. You took a "kol chambu"—a metal vessel used exclusively for this purpose—filled it with water, and headed to the fields. By the late 70s, bathrooms began to appear, though often constructed at a distance from the main house.
God forbid you had to do your thing at night. You had to take a torchlight or flashlight and keep waving it to spot any snakes or other nocturnal creatures. As a kid, that experience was terrifying, yet it felt like a genuine victory when the job was completed safely.
Then came the inconveniences of travel. Trains were tolerable because they had toilets, but an overnight bus journey caused high anxiety. You had to hack your body by eating dry biscuits or finding other ways to ensure you didn't have the need to go mid-way. Survival required strategy.
These days, in Indian cities, malls and restaurants have reasonably clean bathrooms. Just remember: water is the standard, and you may not find toilet paper.
The International Learning Curve
As my travels expanded beyond India, so did my checklist. I vividly remember my journey from Delhi to Moscow on Aeroflot in the late 80s with a stopover in Tashkent. There were no toilet rolls in the toilets at the Tashkent airport—and no water either. I immediately added this to the checklist for my colleagues who subsequently traveled this route: Bring your own toilet paper.
Sometimes, frugality led to unnecessary adventure. While traveling with my wife from Helsinki to Moscow by train in 1991, I encountered a pay toilet. From my recollection, I found that I had to pay 7 Finnish Markka. I decided that wasn't worth it and went out of the station to a department store to use the free toilets there.
The result? I made my wife incredibly anxious. I was gone a long time, and worse, our passports were in my pocket. There were no cell phones then to reassure her. I saved 7 Markka, but the stress cost was significantly higher.
The Modern Road Trip
I was reminded of these adventures recently during a road trip in Slovenia. Unlike the US, where restrooms are generally open, here you had to pay to use the gas station facilities. You received a coupon for the amount you paid, but you could only use it for one purchase in one single transaction.
To complicate matters, you couldn't use credit cards at the turnstile. We had to first use the ATM to draw money, pay the ATM fee, and then pay to use the restroom.
It is easy to complain about infrastructure, but sometimes looking back at the "kol chambu" days or the Aeroflot layovers gives you a healthy appreciation for the simple, tiled convenience of a modern restroom.
Your Turn: Do you have a travel "hack" or a specific memory where a simple amenity became a major hurdle? I’d love to hear your stories in the comments.
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