My First Encounter With A Squatting Toilet
My first encounter with a squatting toilet was in my grandparents' village in the Bulgarian countryside. The toilet was out in the yard, close to the barn, and just across the sheep pen. It was old, and rickety and bore that VERY specific smell that old and rickety toilets exude.
The smell however wasn't the only thing that taunted the senses there. Upon entrance one feasted their eyes with leftovers of past toilet experiences, stuck about the hole that welcomingly stretched from footpost to footpost. The latter were as smeared with evidence as anything else closely in contact with the floor.
When I finally decided to take my chances the needs that had driven me there were not as strong as they appeared to be a while earlier. So it took me both physical and mental effort to get the matter through. Furniture is what works for me, so I must have been imagining sofas with lots of fluffy pink cushions, and a teddy bear seated on top of them.
Anyway, I did what I had gone there for and duly used the newspaper shreds provisioned for hygienic purposes. One advice I cold give to unaccustomed users would be: do NOT imagine there is a muck monster hiding in the hole beneath, waiting to shoot its greasy hand through and grab your buttocks just as you are taking a dump!
Also, and that's important - DON'T LOSE YOUR BALANCE!!