Sometimes I feel as though living in Beijing is a huge test to see just how far out of my comfort zone I can be pushed. The hardest adjustment that many foreigners have to make when coming to China is learning how to use a squatting toilet. The squatting itself is not the most difficult part, rather it’s the filth and foul smell of many of the bathrooms. The rancid odors that permeate from the latrines are an all out assault on your senses. I thought I had seen and smelled it all, but of course Beijing could still push my limits a bit further. I was in a hutong having coffee and cheesecake when nature called. I grabbed some toilet paper out of my bag because bathrooms here generally do not provide you with any. I also took some hand sanitizer because there’s no soap (surprise, surprise). I enter the public bathroom, and my eyes have to do a double take. Am I really seeing this? There were no doors in the bathroom, no separate stalls. It was just one big open room with squatting toilets. Personal space is a concept that does not exist here, and I’ve accepted that. I can tolerate being squished like a sardine on the public bus. I can take a shower at the gym at school where there are no curtains. Using the bathroom in front of other people is really taking this lack of privacy to an extreme level – a level I’d rather not be on. I weigh out the options in my head. Do I leave or stay? China has tested my character, abilities and adaptability in unimaginable ways. Today is not the day when it finally gives me something I can’t handle. I take a deep breath and squat down with the few women who are there. I try not to look at them, but there’s no way to avoid the scene before my eyes. When I was living in a rural village in Africa, I refused to use the squatting toilet. For two months, I managed to wait until I returned to our living quarters to use the restroom. 18-year-old me would never have imagined that one day I’d not only be squatting, but squatting in front of other people. I stand up to exit, but first throw the toilet paper away in the trashcan. You can’t flush toilet paper here, which probably contributes to the funky odors. I wash my hands with my soap and dry my hands on my pants because of course there’s no paper for that either. I let out a big sigh of relief that the experience is over. I’m no fool though. I know Beijing has another test in store for me. Bring it on Beijing. Bring it on.
有时我觉得在北京生活是一个巨大的考验，考验我能在多大程度上突破我的舒适圈。对很多外国人来说，在中国最难适应的是要学会如何使用蹲便。蹲便本身不是最难的部分，更难的是很多厕所里面的污物和臭气。公共厕所里散发的腐臭气味攻击着你的感官。我以为我已经见多了、闻够了，但北京依然会不停突破我的极限。我在一个胡同里喝咖啡吃芝士蛋糕，这是有了自然的生理现象。我从我的包里拿了一些厕纸，因为这里的厕所是不提供这些的。我又拿了一些手部消毒液，因为厕所里没有香皂（惊讶吧，惊讶）。我进入了公共厕所，我的眼睛睁大了两倍。眼前的一切是真的吗？厕所里面没有门，没有分开的小间。这是一个大的公开的房间，里面有一些蹲便。个人空间这个概念在这里是不存在的，我已经接受了这些。我能忍受在公交车上被挤得像沙丁鱼一样。我能在学校的健身房里洗澡，里面没有帘子。在其他人面前上厕所实在是把这种对隐私的缺乏推向了一个极端的程度，我宁愿敬而远之。我在脑中衡量了一下我现有的选择。我走还是留？中国已经通过不能想象的方式考验了我的人格、能力和适应力。今天不应该是它最终带给我不可能完成之任务的一天。我深呼吸，在那里的另外几个女士前蹲了下来。我试着不去看她们，但是实在没有办法来避开眼前的情景。当我在非洲的乡村居住时，我拒绝使用那里的蹲便。两个月里，我每次都能忍着等回到我的居住点才用厕所。18岁的我永远不会想到有一天我不仅仅会使用蹲便，还蹲在别人眼前。我站起来离开，首先把厕纸扔进垃圾桶。在这里，你不能冲走厕纸，可能这也是气味如此浓重的原因之一。我用我的香皂洗了手，然后在我的裤子上把手擦干，因为，当然，这里没有擦手纸。我叹了一口气，很庆幸这场体验结束了。我不笨。我知道北京一定会有另一个考验在等待着我。来吧，北京。来吧。