The first weekend in February is a time when Chiang Mai, the "rose of the north," showcases its wide variety of flora during the annual Flower Festival. We missed the parade (it was being held at the ungodly hour of 7:30 AM), but we made it down to the southwest corner of the moat later in the day to see the amazing displays. Each float contains hundreds of thousands of flowers, from orchids and chrysanthemums to Damask roses.
After viewing as many floats as we could in the huge crowd, we veered off into a gorgeous public park, where we enjoyed iced coffee and spring rolls, as well as a disastrous trip to the bathroom. For some reason, they are just not into regular toilets here; they’re all about the squat toilet. I really can’t understand the appeal at all, especially since I regularly have to assist two very small people in using them. This doesn’t tend to go well, and on this particular occasion, it was really not fun.
The cost was three baht each to use the bathroom, plus an extra baht if we wanted toilet paper. People too stingy to spring for the paper (a small package of tiny pink napkins) either drip dry or splash themselves down using a bucket full of water drawn from a mildewy trough of water next to the toilet. After waiting in line for a much longer time than was necessary, due to the Thais’ complete lack of a “first-come, first-served” mentality (i.e. they just butt right in front of you without giving it a second thought), we finally got up there and crammed all four of us (Liv, Bella, and me with William in the sling) into the tiny stall. While I was messing with the door lock, trying to get it to stay closed, Olivia dropped her dress right to the floor, soaking it in inch-deep, dirty water. After that I was ready to go home and boil both ourselves and all of our clothing, but the deed had not yet been accomplished, so we had to soldier on.
The toilet was raised on a platform about six inches off the ground. Liv climbed right up and let ‘er rip, spraying both me and Bella in the process. I myself was merely grossed out, but Bella went into hysterics, howling, “there’s pee on my shoes! There’s PEE on my SHOES!” The pee kept flying for what seemed like an eternity, more than long enough for me to calculate the odds that I would be able to get Bella to go (slim to nil). I decided I would go next, to show her that it was indeed possible to use a squat toilet without baptizing everyone within a five-foot radius. I had to get Liv to hold the door closed, since the lock was out of commission and it kept popping open. She didn’t perform this task with as much zeal as I would have liked. I had to balance as best I could with the baby in the sling on my front while still managing to shoot my arm out and pull the door closed each time it opened, lest some overzealous, line-jumping Thai decided we were finished and busted in on us.
Next up was a wrestle-mania-style struggle to get Isabella to pee. She was very against this proposition from the get-go. My arms were shaking and sweat was pouring down my face as I held her over the toilet, still also carrying the baby in the sling and monitoring Olivia’s door holding. There was much howling and gnashing of teeth. Finally, FINALLY she gave in and went. We emerged from that bathroom looking like we were coming out of a war zone and were greeted by a huge line-up of people staring at us curiously. The upside is that the squat toilet has now become an effective means of coercion, i.e., “Isabella, do [insert hated task here], or else I’ll make you pee on a squat toilet!”
In case you needed a visual
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