Today, I reunited with a friend from another world. I knew Amie back in China, and a wonderful aspect of living here in the Great White North is that so many of the Americans I knew in Shanghai are auto employees and hail from Detroit. So, I have the special privilege of meeting up with folks I knew “on the other side.”
Amie has just moved home to begin a new job in the States and we took in a Thai luncheon. She brought me gifts from special people whose lives crossed both our paths. Amie’s beloved household helper, Mary also worked in our home and I enjoyed her so much. She sent me the gift of green tea that emanates steam from my cup as I write. Roger loved Mary’s cooking and she made the year he spent over there with me in Tennessee so much easier. Amie also brought Chinese candy from Bing whose talent at the wheel took me everywhere and whom we truly consider family.
Seeing the gifts and a friend whom I have never before seen in a “normal” world where we drive cars, read menus with ease, and order Asian food while really understanding the ingredient list gave me pause for nostalgia of another time. We did not talk much of our time in China today, but seeing her reminded me of some of the fun. And that “fun” sometimes took us way out of our comfort zone. Now and here, when I get together with friends in a restaurant, the restrooms are so easy, so familiar, and so convenient, but that was not always the case.
Moving to China back in spring 2007, we encountered so many wonders, concerns, anxieties and fears with uprooting our lives and blowing holes in our paradigms, but one little detail over which I failed to consider was public restrooms.
On my first full day living in China, my first official duty was to go through immigration’s required health check. I was to meet “Cherry,” a young woman whose job was to help new expatriates navigate the labyrinth of settling into this ancient, yet new-to-me world. First up on the morning’s agenda, Bing drove Roger to work with me in tow. He then drove me to Hong Qiou. We arrived a little early and Cherry, whom I had not yet met, was still on her way. I still remember how Bing, so kind, waited with me, until Cherry arrived. Amidst what was so normal to him, he sensed – and rightly so – that I was nervous as a cat.
Cherry met with me and started the process of the health care check. It was very simple to her, and I do not know how I could have accomplished the 30-minute task without her. But, the aforementioned restroom issue is what caused me to smile, roll my eyes, and sigh to myself.
“When in Rome…” The ladies’ room consisted of two stalls, each elevated by a step before getting to the door. I waited my turn, and to my surprise, I saw the shape of a toilet seat “flush” with the floor. This, I came to know oh so well, as a “squatty potty.” Later, in public with foreigners as myself, whenever anyone took a restroom break, I would ask, “Is it a squatty?” The answer to that question had a direct determination on how many Diet Cokes I would drink in the course of the outing.
The concept and usage of a squatty is pretty self-explanatory, and I don’t think any gentle readers want me to go into too much description, let me just say that rolling up pants legs and hanging the strap of one’s purse around the neck was involved. Believe it or not, we actually got used to the drill – to a point. Point being the toilet tissue in the trash can issue.
I miss those days… OK, some things more than others, but when I have a chance to reconnect with friends “from the other side,” the memories are always good. There were times when I had to face things so foreign and strange to me when I just could not handle the stress. I wanted to be home in America with familiarity and comfort surrounding me. But, I was not home – far from it. I had to, as they say, “wear my big girl panties,” and deal with whatever my new environment threw at me.
On those days that culture stress took over, I told myself that at some point I would get used to things, and the easier I rolled with the program, the sooner that would be. It was true, and now that I am back in the familiarity of the US and learning to live in a new part of the country and a new family lifestyle; I have to take my same medicine and tell myself to wear those big girl panties and the sooner I do, the sooner I roll with the program.
I am just glad I can hang my purse from a hook in the bathroom and take care of business the way I was taught.
I remember those squatty potties! I also remember toilets that were simply trenches with water running through them....I think that was at the zoo! Most of all, the squatties on the train - trying to squat and wrangle clothes and hold on while the train was jostling was truly a memorable experience!!! Thanks for sharing this great post Di!
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