We visit public restrooms in the the places we travel, and they tell us something of the culture we are in. I have been in inviting ones, ones I'd rather not use, and those super modern hi-tech featured ones. I sometimes have to watch the other users of the facility in order to pick up necessary information. While in some airports I find that whatever triggers the water or towel dispenser is a mystery. In Frankfurt I had to watch the other passengers before discovering the soap dispenser disguised as a water tap. And, perhaps the most necessary clues I gleaned were from the users of Europe's oldest toilets in Sarajevo, Bosnia. I couldn't read the signs and had to watch into which door men entered, and then followed behind the women.
Ben had his first Kuwait restroom experience in the airport as we were awaiting the arrival of our luggage. He followed the clearly marked TOILETS sign, but didn't make it in because of an attendant who might be charging an entrance fee at the door. Since we didn't have any local currency I encouraged Ben just to walk on in. Later he came back with the report that they seemed to be under construction because there were no actual toilets. I laughed at the idea that Ben had never before experienced the hole in the floor type of facility.
Jon was the next to experience the mystery of the men's room while shopping in IKEA. He followed signs to the toilets and wondered why everyone was taking their shoes off to go inside. It turned out that the men's room was actually a prayer room. Fortunately the restroom attendant directed him to the right door and allowed him to enter with his shoes on.
My first Kuwait restroom experience was in the huge Avenues mall which draws quite a crowd on the weekend. I followed the international sign depicting a woman, and found myself in some back hallways leading away from the main shopping area. An attendant jumped up to usher me into a mirrored room where some other ladies were waiting. After several minutes I was curious to see what I was waiting for, and ventured through the room into another area with doors. In a space that could have fit 10 to 15 stalls, there were four glass doors. Although the glass was smoked, I could clearly see what seemed to be four women and lots of black material being flapped about. This went on for quite a while until finally one burka clad woman came out. Another lady who was waiting, instead of taking her turn, called another attendant to come and clean out the room before she entered. This took a while, and we all waited for the cleaner to finish her job. I was getting tired of waiting, so when another room became vacant, I darted in, not caring if it was cleaned before I entered. The room was large, with high-end fixtures and a very wet floor. A shower hose coming from the wall had been used for washing, which is probably quite difficult to manage in a burka. I washed my hands in the polished bowl set into a granite counter, but couldn't find any towels. Leaving, I found a blow drier in the first waiting room. The awkward placement of it was just one of the unanswered questioned I had about that facility. I still don't know why there is an attendant sitting outside. Not much can be revealed in the toilets of a Kuwait woman's restroom.
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