The Japanese Squatty Toilet
This was originally written in 2003, after I spent over a year in Japan. My apologies if the information is outdated or culturally insensitive. I was in my early 20s at the time and this piece is meant to be light hearted and warm. Japan holds a special place in my heart.
Toilets were not the first thing that came to my mind when I planned
my trip to Japan. But I would soon learn that broadening my horizons
would include re-learning how to pee.
In Tokyo the pressing issue is so complex that how-to posters are
posted at the airport to instruct confused tourists and other
uninitiated.
More than one terrified traveller has attempted avoidance instead of voiding.
But weighed against Western toilets, the Japanese version offers many
advantages. They are sanitary, they are hands free because you kick to
flush, and your tush doesn’t go where untold others have gone before.
They’re also easy to clean and don’t take up a lot of space.
However, these advantages may not be immediately apparent when first
confronted by the gleaming but uninviting porcelain pit.
The “squatty toilet” as it is known to the gaijin, the Japanese word
for foreigner, is nothing like the fly-infested pits occasionally seen
on travel shows, and it’s nothing like going in the woods.
But, learning to use the squatty toilet is not for the feeble minded
or for the feeble legged. There aren’t any splashguards or
balance-rails. The procedure is straddle, squat, balance and aim.
Balance is key.
Balancing may sound easy but it is one of the greatest challenges.
After more than a year in Japan, I felt I was a pro but soon found
myself back in amateur status again.
It was my most disorienting and humbling moment in Japan.
I could blame it on the 26-ounce bottle of gin or the Japanese culture
that makes it the norm to decorate bathrooms like a five-year-old’s
toy shelf.
In many Japanese pubs, or Izakaya, the regulars buy their own bottle
of liquor, decorate it as their own and keep it in the pub. When they
return the next day, they pay only for the Coke, tonic, 7-Up —
whichever is preferred.
Ever the budget traveller, I bought a bottle of Tanqueray gin to save money.
My friend worked as a hostess at the bar and I had planned on keeping
her company. I soon decided that I didn’t want to become a regular at
this particular pub. I certainly didn’t want a good bottle of gin to
go to waste, so I drank it over two nights.
It was at this precarious state that nature called. I was shown to the
bathroom. There was the by now not-so-dreaded, squatty toilet. This
one was slightly elevated, so I had to step up first.
After months in Japan, I was familiar with the routine. But that night
I was distracted by the cutsey Hello Kitty dolls and Disney characters
hanging from the ceiling over the stall.
As anyone who occasionally sipped a gin and tonic can imagine, leaning
back, staring upwards while squatting and peeing is not a combination
likely to promote balance and composure.
I somersaulted backwards off the platform into the door behind me.
Luckily, the door held and I had enough presence of mind to stop
peeing while in motion.
Which brings us to the next skill — aim. Aim is not something we think about in our
carefree, Western-style toilets, at least not those who sit to pee. But it is something that must be
learned in Japan.
For women, it’s all about the angling of the hips. Too much of an
angle and you might miss the bowl. Not enough and you could create
quite a splash.
In public washrooms, there isn’t even toilet paper, so you must plan ahead.
Toilet paper is used as a form of advertising. Little plastic packets
of it are handed to you as you come out of the train station. Quite
often, it is a company peddling pornography that distributes the
paper.
Soon you will learn which distributor gives away the fluffiest,
fullest packets and you can start your collection.
But forget about environmental concerns. This tissue does not
disintegrate in water. It is, therefore, advised that you don’t use it
when you are a guest in someone’s home. You could cause some serious
plumbing problems.
Many gaijin refuse to even use the squatty toilets. This is why you
may see many of them peeing in the streets. Japanese men also pee in
the streets, so this isn’t the faux pax you might expect.
Once a guy-friend excused himself to go to the restroom and came
back about three seconds later. Our conversation went: “Squatty
toilet?” “Yup.”
The confusion arises for men as to whether they should stand or squat
to pee. I guess they missed the how-to posters at the airport.
Some foreigners adapt more willingly to the squatty toilets and others
choose to make it a part of their adventure.
One child I met returned with the back of her overalls soaked. She was
so happy at mastering the squatty toilet that her mother didn’t have
the heart to tell her she had missed.
Once mastered, foreigners often find themselves favouring the squatty
toilets, finding a happy medium between their fear of falling and their fear of germs.
