Squatting

The squat toilet and I have met on exactly four occasions: once in old, downtown Istanbul, twice at bus stations on the way to Ankara and yesterday on the ferry to the beach. Generally speaking, I do not "squat"; I sit, I recline, I occasionally kneel. Squatting is position I reserve for yoga class and peeing in the woods. No longer.

Thanks to my habit of wearing skirts, none of these encounters have been (especially) traumatizing. I say especially because one of the bus stop toilet floors was coated in a slimy grime so slick that I was more afraid of slipping it it than I was of peeing on my foot. That experience could have gone very bad very quickly. Still, I have so many questions! How do old people with bad hips go like this? How far back should one lean? How is it possible that a person manage to pee without completely removing her jeans? The Internet has unfortunately failed to provide me with all the answers.

Squat toilet in the Sultan's harem at Topkapi Palace. Straddle the long cavity facing parallel to the gold faucets. And try not to pee on your shoes.

Most newer buildings have both Western and Eastern toilets. In the Bosporus University women's bathroom that I use several times a day, there are three "normal" toilets and one dangerous one. What intrigues me is how comfortable Turkish women are with squatting. Every day I see someone opt for the squat toilet, even though the other toilets are available. I understand it's all about what you're used to. Naturally, someone who grew up squatting and peeing into a hole in the floor is more comfortable with the idea than I am. Even the facilities at girl scout camp (not including the bushes) were slightly more elaborate than your typical Turkish toilet.

Today, I saw the same thing: a young Turkish woman walked past the three empty Western toilet stalls and went about her business (full business, if you know what I mean) in the Turkish stall. I should note that when I go about even the smallest business with a squat toilet, I am focused -- all items are hung on the door, everything below the waist is removed. Complete concentration is devoted to "hitting my target" so to speak. But when this woman's cell phone rang, she answered it. While squatting.

The whole incident reminded me of a dodge ball program I put on at UT two years ago -- despite my best efforts, I am no good at either dodging things thrown at high speeds or hitting people with anything other than my fists. At one point, this huge black guy joined the game. How he managed as the team ringer with a cigarette in one hand and cell phone held to his ear in the other I have never understood. But there he was, untouched by the objects flying past his head while lobbing balls hard enough to leave a bruise on my thigh.

Dodge ball man, meet your multi-tasking match.