The Simple Things

There is one thing that really aggravates me about this country. No, it's not even the alien registration card or lack of a cell phone -- I at least know there's bureaucracy behind the delays. It's the lack of damn toilet paper in the bathrooms.

This is a country where the ladies will throw cold water on you if you forget to do so yourself after sitting in the sauna, but there's rarely toilet paper to wipe yourself dry/clean. Mind you, it is ridiculously expensive to buy toilet paper here. I've seen an 8-pack for about $4, but I've also seen several varieties around $16. I have HomePlus value brand for my own use; I forgot how much I spent.

You also, if lucky enough to score toilet paper, should discard your used wads in the wastebasket beside you. Apparently the plumbing is so bad here that the toilet paper will clog the pipes. I've seen mixed reports from foreigners online. This, however, isn't really a talk I'd like to have with my new friends.

"Nice to meet you. How do you dispose of your toilet paper?"

Step one to making friends.

Also, I find it incredibly personal to have your soiled, wadded toilet paper on display. Look what I've done! is how I imagine it advertised.

I digress.

Even at school, there is no toilet paper. I usually run to the second floor before class and during breaks. It has already made for some possibly awkward conversation. I also have my American Kleenex packs, but if I don't need the soft touch, then there's no real use for it. I know that this is the case at the main branch as well, usually no toilet paper. However! I know that a giant roll exists with the receptionist, and I'm sure there's a good reason. I just don't know what it is, nor do I know how to ask about it.

My first day, I asked the head instructor, shyly about the lack of TP in the women's facilities. He offered to get me some from the men's, but my guess is, there's none.

Some facilities have a communal roll when you walk in; I was familiar with this concept back in Prague's 5kc metro bathrooms. This makes sense: simple upkeep and clean booties.

I'm even okay with the communal, ubiquitous bathroom bar soap. Even when it's attached to the wall by pole. There is soap, and if you scrub hard enough, you'll be clean.

There must be some historical reason for the lack and expense of toilet paper. Possibly to do with the bidet, but honestly, while I understand the appeal of rinsing clean, the issue is still with the dry off. I just don't understand.

Will, I am American.

I am such an American. I’m not sure if I have felt my American roots so much in the past two years since I saw my president speak in the center of Europe. (Of course, then his visit the natives of a time before the Velvet Revolution.)

Yes, I am talking about my current (re-)obsession with the British family. House of Windsor on my DVR, The Tudors and The Young Victoria both recently devoured through my Netflix queue, and just saw The King’s Speech.

As an American, I can’t help but have a fascination for the British Royal Family. I’ve come about long after our innate hatred of their imperial hold on us and the world, so I can fondly look across the pond to respect the historic lineage. Our presidents are great and all, but you can rig elections, and they’re always changing. Isn’t there comfort in knowing the monarch(y) is always there? Of course, like I said, I’m American; therefore, I love my democracy.

And I love knowing your princes’ love lives. I put them over Hollywood happenings.

I can’t help love the complete impracticality of the monarchy. I mean, really, Parliament does most everything, doesn’t it? While I know that there is strong opposition to the institution, I can’t help but insist that the British should embrace what they have and what the world, or just America, admires. What would happen to your church without its leader? I’ve read that my tourist dollars actually more than balance what their taxes provide. While I never fantasized of becoming a princess or dating a real prince (especially after attending an English university devoid of aristocracy), I can’t deny the fantastical desire to stand in the presence of someone with Divine Right.

As an American, I have been part of a culture that has fought against the notion for over two hundred years. And now I watch every period drama I possibly can.