Taking care of business in Asia

I'm going to touch on a touchy subject, and mention some unmentionables. There, I warned you.

Nobody tells you about the toilets before you go to Asia. I mean, you hear rumours and stories as you catch up with friends who have been there and, well, done it, so to speak. But surely there should be some sort of government warning issued with your passport.

You know the brochure you get telling you how you can be imprisoned for drug trafficking and that some places aren't safe to travel? Well when you turn over to the next page there should be a diagram of what you'll find in a typical Thai or Malaysian toilet, and what you're meant to do with all the things that are in there.

I mean, most people have been going to the toilet by themselves since they were about two or three, so you know the business you're involved in and how to get the job done. But when you walk into the workshop and all the tools have changed, you can hardly be expected to perform to the same standards, can you? Even if the tools are just as effective, or even better, without the proper training, you're bound to at least fail, if not hurt yourself in the attempt.

Now, as a public service to readers of this blog, I provide for you what the Australian Government has failed to provide all these years. Here are three different toilet types you'll find in Asia, and how to negotiate their use.

While this looks like a normal toilet, and is in fact called a "Western toilet" in parts of Asia, looks can be deceiving. "Thank God!" you think (or even say out loud) as you sit on the familiar comfort of a porcelain throne with plastic seat. "I'd heard so many stories about toilets in this country..." But then, probably as your shift is drawing to a close, you notice one of two things: either a total lack of toilet paper, or a sign instructing you not to put toilet paper into the toilet.

I'll deal with the second scenario first. Naturally, your first thought is, "Then where am I supposed to put it?" The answer lies (or at least will if your aim is good) in what you thought was simply a run-of-the-mill waste paper basket. Hm! What an appropriate name. This bin is not for your toenail clippings or Mars bar wrappers, it is for your used toilet paper.

Koalas - the perfect mascot for toilet paper bins.

Like many parts of Europe, sewage systems in Asia are not up to the task of flushing away every item you think you can shove down the toilet — toilet paper, your flat-mate's stash, or the pet python you bought at Chutachuck markets. Therefore, while it may be true that "the job is not over until the paperwork is done", in this case, the paperwork is filed separately.

Now let's go back to scenario one on the Western toilet — no toilet paper at all. As you look around your tiny prison in a rising state of panic, you spot what looks like a tiny hose hanging on the wall behind you. No, this is not a handy mini-shower for those times when you've worked up a sweat, it's a case of wash, not wipe.

There are two things I will say here about the hose — watch your aim (slow and steady with the tap is the best approach as water pressure can vary), and remember that this is cold water (guys, be ready and try not to squeal like a girl).

Next is a hybrid toilet/bidet, with high-tech washing devices for front and back bottoms.

Note that while the instructional icon for the first control can be taken literally, the second cannot.

There's little explanation involved here, but again, don't be too hasty to spin the dial all the way to full until you've tested the pressure it's going to deliver, and see the above note on water temperature.

Now we come to the one that I, personally, dread the most — let's call it "the squatting hole".

The first time I saw one of these was in Korea about 11 years ago, and I thought someone, in a fit of rage, had torn a urinal off the wall and thrown it against the floor so hard that it was embedded there for eternity. You know, someone like Korean Hulk, or Su Per Man. It looked like a sideways, wrong way up toilet on the floor. I thought I had walked into the wee-wees only stall, so I went to the one next door. Same-same.

I don't recall how I reconnoitered my first squatting hole, but I probably held on until I got back to the airport.

Being a lot older and ... older, I now know that you crouch or squat over this hole. This is difficult enough when you don't have old basketball knee injuries and the poise of a hippo on yaa-baa to deal with — add to this the fact that in public toilets, the floor will invariably be "damp", if not soaking wet, with liquids of various colours, consistencies, and cough-inducement-factors. If you are wearing a dress or kilt, I imagine that this poses less of a problem; however in denim shorts, it beats the hell out of me how you're supposed to drop your dacks, balance over the hole while you're at your business, clean up when the task is done, and then leave the cubicle, without walking out looking like the kid from Slumdog Millionaire (you know the part I'm talking about).

To make matters even more challenging, the new piece of toilet hardware that you'd already become used to using in example one (a hose) has now been traded for a 40 litre drum of water, with a small bucket inside. Resist the urge to take the small bucket out, and dangle yourself in the drum of water.

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Apart from these toilet types, it's also common to have toilets that aren't all that private. Stop on the side of the road at a rest stop with a make-shift eatery, and you're likely to be squatting in a toilet with little or no door, and perhaps a screen between you and the main dining area. I've been to more than one restaurant in rural Thailand where I could wave to restaurant patrons (if I so desired) from the comfort of the men's room. Speaking of which, you may also encounter women cleaning the men's room while you are making use of the facilities.

This toilet is for men and ballet dancers
with short arms and one leg.

Be further warned, gentle reader, that in some shopping centres you may also need to pay a nominal fee to use the facilities — THB2-5, or in Malaysia about RM2. The upside of this is that it usually means you won't have to use a squatting hole, and toilet paper will be provided.

If not, demand a refund and take your business elsewhere!

D.

Taking only memories

Remember the post about Bangkok milk?
The honey featured in the making breakfast post?
What about the toilet paper one?
And who could forget Mr Hill in the shower?

Well here's your chance to grab your very own piece of My Mekong Trip history...



Place your bid now!

... or not.

Spit, don't swallow!

Thailand, I know that when you put something in your mouth over here, it is all about including all the tastebuds - sweet, sour, spicy, and savoury (or salty).

But surely that doesn't have to extend to toothpaste!!

Apparently, that big white word written in Thai is "Salt"! Yes, salt flavoured toothpaste. I put it in my mouth expecting spearmint, peppermint, even beef mince would have been OK - but no, it was salt flavoured.

I used to think bubblegum flavoured toothpaste was weird.

D.

Finding India in Malaysia

Tonight, in an unassuming Indian diner behind Sentral Stassen (Central Railway Station), I had one of the tastiest Indian meals I have ever had.

The menu was mostly North Indian, and I chose the Tandoori Platter — fish, chicken kofta and mutton (aka "goat") — served on a sizzling plate with a spicy salad, mint yoghurt and naan bread.

I've had most of these dishes before in Australia, so I'm familiar with the flavours and spices. But here they were, somehow tastier, more alive in the mouth, more voluminous. It was actually like someone had turned the flavour dial on these spices and aromas, all the way up to 11.

I couldn't finish the whole platter by myself. I had to leave a couple of pieces of the fish, free to swim again another day. And all of this for the equivalent of about AU$10.

A platter like this at any decent Indian Restaurant in Australia would be three times the price. Admittedly, it was served with all the hospitality of an ill-fitting nappy, but I could not fault the food, which was the purpose of my trade.

I don't think for a moment that this little non-descript diner and sweet shop was some hidden gem that I stumbled across — the best kept secret since the Queen of England's lingerie supplier. I think it was simply an example of good Indian cooking, which no doubt abounds in this city.

The streets of "Little India"

As a plus, they also sold handmade sweets and confectionery at the front of the store. I picked up a bag of mixed lollies on my way out — something I haven't done since I was about 7. Thanks Little India!

D.

In KL's palm

As you fly into KL you see what all the fuss is about. Palm oil plantations, next to freshly bulldozed fields waiting for more palm oil, almost as far as you can see.

Palm plantations on the way from the airport

KL seems a lot more structured than my short-term home in Bangkok. The streets and highways are wide and well-serviced, traffic flows, even when congested, and they have a new "smart tunnel" — helping to relieve traffic congestion into the city, but when the heavy rains come, they stop the traffic and the tunnel doubles as a way to drain water out of the city so it doesn't flood. Smart tunnel indeed!

An almost empty street?

There seems to be more money here — I could be wrong, but the impression I get here is that people are a little better off than their neighbours north of the border. Things cost a little more — or if you go to the mall at the KLCC towers, they cost a *lot* more.

KLCC Towers

But I guess that slice of wealth, or piece of prosperity has to come from somewhere. For Malaysia, some of it has come from saying no to rainforest, and yes to pulp mills, and paper and palm oil plantations.

I fully support the work of groups like the Australian Orangutan Project, who are fighting to stop the loss of native habitat for orangutans in Malaysia and Indonesia. However I am also aware of the hypocrisy of people from Western, developed countries, who live lives of relative ease and luxury, telling these nations what to do with their natural resources.

They just want what we've got, and what we've been selling them for the past hundred years or so. Work hard for us, and you can have a house and a fancy car too. Build our transistors and electronics and one day you could have an iPhone.

After all, we sold off all our natural resources to get what we wanted didn't we? In Australia, we still are. Why shouldn't they be able to do the same?

Of course, there are very good arguments as to why they shouldn't, but until we come up with an alternative — a better answer than simply do as I say, not as I do — then I'm certain that Malaysia and other countries will continue to sell off what they can't replace to buy what we tell them they haven't got.

D.

On a roll

The first thing you notice about dining with Thai people is not the delicious aromas of ... OK, so the second thing you notice about dining at a street food venue or even an office function, is not the unknown hygiene factors of the food's preparation, or even the abundance of sticks (more on this in another post), but the fact that all these people are using toilet paper as serviettes.

When you first walk through the office and spot rolls of toilet paper on people's desks, your first thought (as an Australian) is that they've had a big night out on the lagers and curries the night before.

Or maybe those unknown hygiene factors have caught up with their seemingly indestructible Thai stomach after all! If I'd known the language better when I first arrived, people would have become fed up with me asking them every morning if they were feeling all right.

As I say, it jars a little at first, but when you think about it, it makes sense. Toilet paper is a lot cheaper than tissue paper or serviettes, so why not use it for all your wiping needs?

Of course, in a lot of Asian countries, toilet paper often isn't used in the toilet - more on this in another blog too - so it's more correctly a roll of tissue paper.

I think that when the first farangs turned up with their fancy sit down toilets and rolls of "toilet" paper, Thais thought: "Hey, what a cool idea! Tissues that come in a roll! That's so convenient, and easy to use. I wonder why they keep them next to the dunny though? No wonder they're all so fat if they're hoeing down on fried chicken even when they're on the can!"

I'm pretty sure that's how it happened. In fact, I'm going to go and setup an article for it on Wikipedia now.

D.

PS. If you Westerners are still grossed out by this, just remember, the rolls of toilet paper didn't come out of the toilet, they came from a factory where they make all the other types of tissue paper too.

Seeing the sea life

Last weekend I learnt how to scuba dive. In Pattaya.

For those who have never been, Pattaya is not a beach resort. There are beaches, and lovely islands here, but it is not Phuket, or Phi Phi. Leonardo di Caprio was never there with his shirt off, running from Asian drug lords or wrestling sharks.

There is some reef around the islands near Pattaya, but when you've grown up with the Great Barrier Reef in your backyard, it's hard to call it reef at all.

In fact, before I left on the first morning, I was chatting to one of the hotel staff about learning to dive. He asked me where I was from, and when I told him Australia, he was dumbfounded that I had come to Pattaya to scuba dive. It would have been like him turning up to the food court at the Logan Hyperdome to learn how to cook Thai food.

But even so, the experience of scuba was spectacular. As someone who has only ever snorkelled before, being free to breathe underwater and explore so much more was exhilarating.

The visibility and range of sea life on the second day was worse than the first - you could only see about 4 metres in front of you. The reef was damaged and half-eaten by urchins, where it hadn't been used for target practice by the Thai and US navies.

Even so, there was a story to be read at the sea floor about what had caused the destruction, the refuse it left behind, and the resilience of the sea creatures who survived regardless. Broken bottles and pieces of rubbish, now home to barnacles and small critters. The skeletons of coral. Unexploded shells, half-buried in sand. A discarded shirt (which I resisted the urge to pick up and bring home) nibbled at by fish. And overhead, the sound of a dozen speedboats and dive boats coming and going at once.

Like the people living in this beautiful land, the sea creatures of Thailand are survivors.

D.

Bangkok wildlife

Please note that this post is not about Soi Cowboy, Nana Plaza or Patpong Road. I didn't want anyone jumping in with false expectations.

Growing up in Australia, you forget how surprising it is to see native animals and wildlife in the city. When you're so used to watching the kangaroos hop down George Street (Brisbane or Sydney) and tossing the koalas a eucalyptus lolly on the way to work, you forget that there's something special about seeing the country's fauna where you expect only people.

I've been surprised, and sometimes gob-smacked, at the variety of animals I've seen in Bangkok.

It was hard to tell whether this guy was friendly or not, with teeth poking out like Agrajag
(go read Hitchhiker's Guide)

The most noticeable are the soi dogs, or what Aussies would call strays. There are a lot more of them per square metre than you would see in Australia. And some are well looked after, even though they're homeless. They sleep out the front of disused buildings with their own food dishes and water bowls that people fill up for them.

There are also plenty of stray cats around, but as with cats anywhere, it's hard to tell which ones are actually strays and which ones are just out for a wander and would happily come home with you for a free feed and a bit of lap time.

I've also encountered the soi bats as I walk home some nights - they swoop down in a pale, translucent blur over your head, like an ugly magpie in nesting season. Or maybe their radar just aren't used to farang shapes yet.

I encountered one Bangkok local long before I ever saw it. I heard a noise that I assumed was the noise the traffic lights make before it's safe for pedestrians to cross, only it seemed to be coming from odd places (trees, bushes, drains). I have discovered that it's a frog call, and not a traffic aid for the visually impaired (I actually have no idea how a blind person would cross the road safely in Bangkok - my guess is by taxi).

There are squirrels a-plenty in Bangkok - you see them in much the same places as you'd spot possums in Australia - walking down the powerlines to get to another tree, or jumping on roofs. I'm not sure if they also live in your roof and wake you up at 2am when they come home and find another bloke with their girlfriend.

One animal that I didn't expect to find here was a sugar glider, but apparently they are also native to New Guinea and Indonesia. I spotted one in it's native habitat here in Krung Thep - sitting in the hand of a street vendor near Khao San Road. Here's my friend Holly modelling the beasty for us:

Holly was so impressed that she did a web search and found a site claiming the sugar glider as the number one pet to have in an apartment. It seems the glider likes nothing better than hanging out with people. In their apartments. The people's that is, not the sugar glider's.

Alphonse, who lives at the end of my Soi

Another animal I didn't expect to find strutting around the end of my street was a rooster - I have at least two. This one - let's call him Alphonse, or Fonzie for short - has his own little wicker basket that he sits in sometimes, but most of the time he's just scratching around the footpath as I walk by on my way home. I've tried saying hello, but so far we haven't really connected. Some nights I walk past, Fonzie isn't there, and the people who hang around on the street near Fonzie are enjoying a hearty meal with the local moto-taxi drivers, and I get worried for the Fonze's well-being. But the next day he's back, cock of the walk again.

I've also heard that, just like Australia, there are snakes to be found in backyards and bushes, though only the spitting cobra - nothing really dangerous like the taipan, yellow belly black, or king brown.

Bath time at elephant world

Thailand is of course well-known for monkeys and elephants, and while I have seen these in the "wild" during my time here in Thailand, I have yet to see either monkeys or elephants wandering the streets of Bangkok sniffing around for stray peanuts. Although, I have read that there is a famous elephant who often frequents Soi Cowboy.

Ha! Tricked you! I did talk about Soi Cowboy after all.

D.

My dairy diary

Here's two ways to buy milk in Bangkok. You choose.



D.

Bye, bye Miss American Thai

I went to a 1950s-style American Diner tonight. It had juke boxes, padded booths to sit in, and Elvis playing in the background.

If I were to use deductive logic, I should not have ordered from the Thai section of the menu. If you're at a Thai-themed restaurant in Bangkok and you order a cheeseburger with chilli fries, chances are it may not be the best you've eaten.

So by deduction, I could say that ordering Thai food at an American-themed restaurant touting large burgers and thick shakes would be a mistake.

Except that all the kitchen staff were Thai. I had a very nice chicken massaman curry.

I do need to learn some more essential Thai phrases though. For the second time in a week, I asked to look at the dessert menu and was brought the bill instead.

Or maybe I should stop wearing such tight-fitting shirts.

D.

PS. If I was running a 50s American joint, I probably wouldn't have the Asian Soccer League playing on the big screen. Just saying.

Shower Power 2

I don't want you to get the impression that I'm a shower snob, but once again, a hotel — actually, a five-star resort — in Phuket has got my dander up with it's lack of shower prowess.

This time, the Evason (a beautiful place with lovely staff) has left the great unwashed just that little bit more unwashed.

My expectations were so high too — I walked into the room to find not one, but two showers in a bathroom big enough to host an Amway party. All my hopes and dreams were dashed the first time I tried to step beneath their cleansing waters.

Not a bathroom for tall people

The first thing you'll notice is the the ceiling is very low — I could place my hand flat on the ceiling. This didn't particularly bother me, but I immediately thought of some taller colleagues who would run into trouble here. I mean, I'd hate to see Craig Dawson trying to shower in here. Well, there are many reasons why I'd hate to see Craig showering in my hotel room (no offense Craig), but that's for a different blog.

The next problem was the lack of pressure produced by the shower head. Instead of the "shower-like spray" you would expect from a shower, five trickling streams fell directly to the floor, like some toothless old man dribbling out of the side of his mouth.

The dribbler setting

I did my best to rinse and lather, but it was like punching some holes in the bottom of a styrofoam cup and using that as a shower. Hopeless.

Luckily for me (or so I thought) there was also a bathtub with a hand-held shower attached to the tap. I'll use it instead. However, I was now back with my former shower problem of shower heads mounted to the wall by people who obviously don't know what showers are for.

This one was mounted directly beside the bath taps, about level with my kneecaps, and pointing out across the bathtub — not down the bathtub lengthwise — and out the bathroom door. This meant that I could either have very clean thighs, or an Atlantis themed room.

I checked out a friend's shower who was also staying at the time (not Craig) and discovered the same design challenges.

While most people come back from a holiday looking forward to their own bed, I slept fitfully on the flight home dreaming of my shower.

Home sweet home!

D.