Reflections on World Travel

The Luxury of Flushing Toilet Paper

— and other random thoughts about the inherent cost of creature comforts

A massive effort of catering to decades of tourists has irrevocably changed the way half the world lives their lives.

We got home from Thailand at about midnight last night.

There were certainly things to love about that.

Our automatic garage door opener, for instance. We take those for granted, but when you live in the Northeast, it seems like sort of a staple.

We also have a wood stove and a huge stack of wood behind our house. It was pretty chilly when we got home, but by this morning, coffee by the fire was in full operation. Another “basic need” is met in our daily existence.

Apparently, the power went out while we were away. That means all the digital clocks and devices were flashing at us. What a nuisance to reset those guys when you’re jet-lagged and cranky.

But there was still plenty of hot water in the tank downstairs — that made for a joyful shower after flying halfway around the planet

And we replaced our mattress about a year ago to provide much-needed support for our ever-aging bodies. That was also a joyful experience after some of the bed-like surfaces we’d experienced over the past two weeks.

But those are all small details when it comes to the more serious stuff — like personal hygiene. Or more specifically, wiping your ass!

Anne Bonfert published a story a few weeks back about traveling in Thailand. One of the things she mentioned was something that resonates very deeply with me…

“You can’t (shouldn’t) throw toilet paper in the toilet.”

Oh yeah. That.

It’s sort of hard to fathom the persuasive persistence of those Charmin commercials that literally capitalize on the virtues of wiping one’s ass. But indeed, that is something of an obsession for almost everyone I know.

At least, everyone I know… around home.

If you’re in Thailand or Indonesia, or on a Greek island, you’re supposed to take that soiled single-ply sandpaper — we’re not in American suburbia now! — and wrap it in another layer of tissue, then deposit it all into the bin provided next to the toilet.

The logic is that the plumbing infrastructure in most places outside of North America and Europe is simply not able to process your bodily excrement along with all the [hopefully biodegradable] materials intended to help you clean up after yourself.

Think about all that for a moment.

There are so many little things in our daily lives that we absolutely take for granted.

· Grocery stores well stocked with dairy and produce.

· Dependably potable water coming out of the tap.

· Wifi connectivity that’s not dependent on a dodgy satellite signal or an overburdened landline.

Anne also mentions the ubiquitous 7-Eleven store, or the equivalent thereof, in nearly every little town. At least in Thailand, these little stores with one or two of everything, but nary a broad selection of anything, are the backbone of the food supply chain.

I imagine a Thailand of sixty or seventy years ago where their little stores were not burgeoning with literally everything wrapped in plastic — from apples to bananas to junk food. But instead, perhaps these were meager little shops where only local products were sold. Fresh eggs. Local fruits. Chicken and fish from village farmers and fishermen.

This was our first time back to Asia since the pandemic shut down the world. It occurs to me that even in three years time, at least people where I live are becoming increasingly concerned about the realities of sustainability and climate change. Many are taking baby steps in an effort to be more conscientious about recycling, composting, and utilizing reusable bags.

Small gestures to acknowledge that Houston, we have a problem!

But as tourists from the West have inundated previously unspoiled regions of the East, it seems our demands for fast food and convenience stores have not only created an entirely new economy based on keeping tourists happy but have also fundamentally changed their own cultural norms as well.

Even in China, the quintessential photograph of 500 bicycles flooding an intersection has been replaced by a traffic jam of exhaust-emitting scooters and automobiles.

Want to witness that bicycle mayhem? You have to go to Amsterdam to see that!

Ironic on so many levels.

Nearly every villager anywhere in Asia now has access to refrigerated goods and other foods loaded with preservatives for “health and sustainability.” If you don’t happen to notice that while shopping in the 7-Eleven, you’ll surely experience the evidence later that day amidst the trash that lines the road and so much plastic washing up on the beach.

What must that all have been like when it was only banana leaves and lemon grass and the water was devoid of murky refuse material?

We hope to return to Southeast Asia this year to do a deep dive into the other side of the continent — namely Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos.

This recent trip of chilling out on a nude beach in a remote village was an excellent reminder of all the things we’ll need to think about for our return. Thanks to the 7-Eleven supply chain we know that we won’t need to pack much to adequately address our Western needs and desires.

But at the end of the day, it all gives me pause.

A massive effort of catering to decades of tourists has irrevocably changed the way half the world lives their lives.

For better or worse — sometimes better and worse — people like myself who can jump on an airplane to better understand how the rest of the world lives are actually changing the way the rest of the world lives.

They even use toilet paper on a consistent basis.

I suppose I need to adjust my attitude to be appreciative of that simple commodity and get over the fact that I don’t get to flush it when I’m done.

I’m still working on that.

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