When you hear the words ‘Japanese toilet’, what do you think of?
It’s probably one with all the literal bells and whistles, right? The kind of toilet that’ll greet you, play music and flash coloured lights while you pee, and then clean your bum with a perfectly-angled jet spray.
Using one of these super-loos is an experience in itself.
It knows when you enter the cubicle, lifting the lid and starting the ‘nope, I am definitely not urinating’ water sounds automatically. Yes, a privacy sound so people don’t know you’re peeing. Which only activates when you are definitely peeing. I know…
You’d be forgiven for thinking every toilet in the country came fitted with a disco ball. It’s sadly not quite the case. Away from department stores and train stations, many public toilets in Japan are still the ‘squat’ type. The ‘hole in the ground’ ones.
I’ve had to use many a squat loo since I got here. The key to using them properly is to adopt the right stance. Feet planted wide – not so wide that you look like a sumo wrestler, but enough that you’re not about to pee on your own shoes.
This can, however, become a dangerous position to be in.
The other day, I was making use of a public toilet… and I heard it. The distinct ‘snap’ of half the elastic in my pants breaking. I’d crouched a little wider than usual, and my knickers couldn’t take it.
(More fool me for wearing something snug. In this weather, sometimes I can’t tell if it’s sweat or if I have early onset incontinence.)
For a horrifying few seconds, I thought they’d actually ripped in half. Possibly THE most appropriate time the thought ‘oh shit’ has ever popped into my head.
What could any high-tech lavatory do for me then, huh? Lend me some Huggies? Deploy a sewing kit and some consolatory chocolate? I personally wouldn’t trust any free chocolate dispensed by a toilet.
