Magic Toilet Ride
Koreans, in typical Asian style have taken the art of the toilet to new levels. I have heard stories about the magic toilets, but until having experienced one first hand, I tended to think of them like Bigfoot sightings. They may believe they saw what they think they saw, but until I see it I can't believe completely.
Well, I'm a believer.
Last night, coming home tired from a long day of walking through Seoul, I had to retire to the water closet for a pause.
Before I continue, I must include a bit of history.
Seventeen years ago when serving an LDS mission here I was confronted with all manner of traditional 'options'. Conditions were so diverse that to not carry a small amount of toilet paper for an emergency was tantamount to taking your very life into your own hand. We saw everything from the random American toilet, to what we affectionatly called a 'squatter'(que mental image here...), and even saw numerous drunken Korean men taking advantage of any available vertical surface to...um...yeah, you probably know where that is going.
Fast foward to the present, and you can see the mental gymnastics I have gone through just to wrap my mind around the change that has gone on in this country during the interim.
As I sit down, my posterior portion is greeted by the most comfortable warm sensation, very similar to sitting on the warm spot on a traditional Korean heated floor. It's just a bit more awkward because subliminally you realize that your pants are down. Just about the time you figure out that you're in no danger of burning anything, you hear the faintest whisper of a fan and feel a slight drop in barometric pressure from beneath you. Recalling what little I know of physics, and remembering a certain episode of 'Mythbusters', I wonder if this is what the bottom of an airplane wing must feel like when the Bernoulli principal kicks in.
Yes indeed-y, the toilet is actually evacuating the air from the bowl so that you aren't bothered with the unpleasantness within. Ironically the sewers are still somewhat smellable out in the streets, but for the moment at least your nasal passages are given a respite.
While you are conducting your business, you might take a moment to survey the electronic control panel that dazzles the eye. Buttons of all shapes, sizes and colors. Some have simple diagrams that tempt you, others are more concrete in their description of what will transpire. You wonder if there is an ejection seat button, hoping that there is not.
Upon completion of your transaction, you are then confronted with the daunting task of making your next choice. Do you cop out and just simply flush? Au contraire! We are adventure seeking international travelers and are looking to immerse ourselves fully and experience the wonder that is the Land of the Morning Calm!
Timidly you extend your index finger and slide it accross the buttons. Is this some sort of bathroom video game? How many lives do I have? Where do I put the coin? Running out of patience, and prompted by the need to do *something* at this point, I find the well-used green button.
I pause for a moment. Poised on the brink of discovery I feel a bit like Neil Armstrong preparing to take his immortal step onto lunar soil. Will the video feed really reach Earth? Will schoolchildren read of me in future textbooks? Do I have a speech prepared? Heart pounding in anticipation of a new sensory experience, I push down.
Wow.
Did what I think just happen really happen? Is this what an enema feels like? I laugh, cringe, smile somewhat embarassingly, then realize that I can see myself in the mirror on the opposing wall. I decide not to continue the awkward gaze.
A gentle stream of water gracefully points upward, cleansing my skin, warmly bathing away any offense. After what seemed like an eternity, but what was really more like a minute or so, I begin to worry. How much longer will I be forced to endure this pleasant unpleasantness? Does the programmer who engineered the software really think that Korean's back ends make that big of a mess? Perhaps. Does the programmer have the foresight to include a 'fat American' sensor and know that they might need a bit more time to 'soak'? Does the programmer realize that they are programming toilets and aspire to something greater? We may never know.
About the time that all of the possible combinations have crossed my mind, I wonder if there is just a plain ol' 'off' button. I lean over to my right and look down...hoping to find an equally worn button as the one I have just pushed. I do and it is colored red. I nervously press and the Korean water torture ceases.
I pat myself dry and am confronted with the awkward realization that it wasn't half bad. Not necessarily looking forward to the next encounter, but not really dreading it either. What other buttons might do...I wonder. But savoring the moment, I decide to wait for the next opportunity to experiment.
No Korean toilets were harmed in the making of this blog.
Well, I'm a believer.
Last night, coming home tired from a long day of walking through Seoul, I had to retire to the water closet for a pause.
Before I continue, I must include a bit of history.
Seventeen years ago when serving an LDS mission here I was confronted with all manner of traditional 'options'. Conditions were so diverse that to not carry a small amount of toilet paper for an emergency was tantamount to taking your very life into your own hand. We saw everything from the random American toilet, to what we affectionatly called a 'squatter'(que mental image here...), and even saw numerous drunken Korean men taking advantage of any available vertical surface to...um...yeah, you probably know where that is going.
Fast foward to the present, and you can see the mental gymnastics I have gone through just to wrap my mind around the change that has gone on in this country during the interim.
As I sit down, my posterior portion is greeted by the most comfortable warm sensation, very similar to sitting on the warm spot on a traditional Korean heated floor. It's just a bit more awkward because subliminally you realize that your pants are down. Just about the time you figure out that you're in no danger of burning anything, you hear the faintest whisper of a fan and feel a slight drop in barometric pressure from beneath you. Recalling what little I know of physics, and remembering a certain episode of 'Mythbusters', I wonder if this is what the bottom of an airplane wing must feel like when the Bernoulli principal kicks in.
Yes indeed-y, the toilet is actually evacuating the air from the bowl so that you aren't bothered with the unpleasantness within. Ironically the sewers are still somewhat smellable out in the streets, but for the moment at least your nasal passages are given a respite.
While you are conducting your business, you might take a moment to survey the electronic control panel that dazzles the eye. Buttons of all shapes, sizes and colors. Some have simple diagrams that tempt you, others are more concrete in their description of what will transpire. You wonder if there is an ejection seat button, hoping that there is not.
Upon completion of your transaction, you are then confronted with the daunting task of making your next choice. Do you cop out and just simply flush? Au contraire! We are adventure seeking international travelers and are looking to immerse ourselves fully and experience the wonder that is the Land of the Morning Calm!
Timidly you extend your index finger and slide it accross the buttons. Is this some sort of bathroom video game? How many lives do I have? Where do I put the coin? Running out of patience, and prompted by the need to do *something* at this point, I find the well-used green button.
I pause for a moment. Poised on the brink of discovery I feel a bit like Neil Armstrong preparing to take his immortal step onto lunar soil. Will the video feed really reach Earth? Will schoolchildren read of me in future textbooks? Do I have a speech prepared? Heart pounding in anticipation of a new sensory experience, I push down.
Wow.
Did what I think just happen really happen? Is this what an enema feels like? I laugh, cringe, smile somewhat embarassingly, then realize that I can see myself in the mirror on the opposing wall. I decide not to continue the awkward gaze.
A gentle stream of water gracefully points upward, cleansing my skin, warmly bathing away any offense. After what seemed like an eternity, but what was really more like a minute or so, I begin to worry. How much longer will I be forced to endure this pleasant unpleasantness? Does the programmer who engineered the software really think that Korean's back ends make that big of a mess? Perhaps. Does the programmer have the foresight to include a 'fat American' sensor and know that they might need a bit more time to 'soak'? Does the programmer realize that they are programming toilets and aspire to something greater? We may never know.
About the time that all of the possible combinations have crossed my mind, I wonder if there is just a plain ol' 'off' button. I lean over to my right and look down...hoping to find an equally worn button as the one I have just pushed. I do and it is colored red. I nervously press and the Korean water torture ceases.
I pat myself dry and am confronted with the awkward realization that it wasn't half bad. Not necessarily looking forward to the next encounter, but not really dreading it either. What other buttons might do...I wonder. But savoring the moment, I decide to wait for the next opportunity to experiment.
No Korean toilets were harmed in the making of this blog.
posted by Michael Slade at
6:07 PM
2 Comments:
Wow, that was a good laugh. I love the writing. What do you mean no toilets were harmed in the making of . . . oh . . . making of this blog.
You crack me up. I wish I were as descriptive as you. I am glad to find another toilet enthusiast.
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