Ya me meo...

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My Abuelo Canuto used to refer to the commode as his throne, but I can't remember if he called the bathroom his castle. Whatever you call it--restroom, loo, W.C., john, lavatory, powder room--I would have to say that in my travels the quality and consistency of this necessity have been varied.

In Mexico, during the Day of the Dead Celebrations, I faced the dreaded open pit --at least they had built a make shift building around it. In Morocco, while staying with a friend's family, I was introduced to the roof top squat toilet--a loo with a view. In Spain, I endlessly confronted the seatless flush toilet--no wonder it took our Landlord 6 months to finally replace the broken toilet seat in our flat. In France, I learned to not expect toilet paper. In Costa Rica, we had a doorless dunny. In Germany, I fumbled for change. In Italy, I dreaded the filthy bathrooms. And in the Netherlands, during the Queen's Day Celebrations, I was disappointed by the lack of facilities for women--there were plenty open portable urinals for the gents.

My experiences with this public convenience here in Australia have been very different. I am amazed that no matter where we go--from the rural outback to large cities, and from National Parks to neighborhood parks--there are alway clean public restrooms with plenty of toilet paper. The type of toilet varies--flush, chemical, pit, composting--but they are always free.

Of course, I understand the lack of public services in developing nations, but all developed countries stand to learn a lesson from Australia' s catering to a basic necessity.