Over the weekend Lance and I headed into New Delhi to check out some more of the sites. Our Saturday consisted of spending several hours wondering around the National Museum. This building houses one of India's largest collections of artifacts from all over the country. I found it interesting, as I was wondering about looking at pottery that was made 2,000 years before Christ was born, that in all the other museums I have be in around the world you never see artifacts from this particular country yet its history is so very ancient. Sure you see artifacts from the Mayans and Aztecs in the Americas, Natives in the US, Egyptians and of course the Chinese but never anything from India. It occurs to me that this country (fairly new at standing on its own two feet with indepenence occurring in 1947) has either lost many of its antiquities to other countries (England, China, France, Spain, etc) or just chooses to protect them by keeping them in country. Either way the collection at the National Museum is impressive and I wish they would choose to share some of these amazing items with the world as I am certain it would boost tourism here with its intriguing array of paintings, pottery, and statues.
I am in awe at the art. But as usual something FUNNY always has to happen to me in India.
On my way out of the building I decide to use the ladies washroom (don't call it a bathroom or no one will know what you are talking about in India as you don't really use this room to bath). Anyways, I head into the "washroom" and there is an attendant there who shows me to a stall. I thank her for her direction before turning into my designated stall....and there it is folks....my first experience with what I like to call "a hole in the floor."
For those of you who have never traveled much, most of the world does not use a porcelain toilet complete with toilet paper and a comfy seat for resting one's backside. They use a simple porcelain (sometimes metal or earthen) hole in the floor for you to....well you know....use the toilet. A "hole in the floor" friends! Now, I do realize that my ancestors (by the way who were wild Scots and Irish folk), and yours for that matter, used holes in the ground to take a needed break for many centuries but I am still appalled. It's 2012 people! Maybe it just because I am a spoiled American and I know it. (Sigh, I'll return to my story.)
So the hole looks at me. I look at the hole. I sigh and say a silent pray "Dear God, please don't let me spray on myself!" I enter the room and proceed with business. Upon completion I look for the toilet paper. I gasp. No paper! NO PAPER! I am desperate and make a small squeaking sound similar to a distressed mouse. The attendant hears and gently suggests in broken English...."paper mam?" I say "YES" much louder than I had intended and a small hand comes under the door holding my wonderful modern body cleansing parchment. I thank her and complete my transaction. The paper goes down. All is well.
As I am leaving the restroom Lance makes a face at me. I have been married long enough to this man to know what that means. It is code for "Was it gross? You were in there a long time." I nod once and use one simple statemtent to sum it up. "A hole in the floor." He grimaces. We do not mention it again.
I am in awe at the art. But as usual something FUNNY always has to happen to me in India.
On my way out of the building I decide to use the ladies washroom (don't call it a bathroom or no one will know what you are talking about in India as you don't really use this room to bath). Anyways, I head into the "washroom" and there is an attendant there who shows me to a stall. I thank her for her direction before turning into my designated stall....and there it is folks....my first experience with what I like to call "a hole in the floor."
For those of you who have never traveled much, most of the world does not use a porcelain toilet complete with toilet paper and a comfy seat for resting one's backside. They use a simple porcelain (sometimes metal or earthen) hole in the floor for you to....well you know....use the toilet. A "hole in the floor" friends! Now, I do realize that my ancestors (by the way who were wild Scots and Irish folk), and yours for that matter, used holes in the ground to take a needed break for many centuries but I am still appalled. It's 2012 people! Maybe it just because I am a spoiled American and I know it. (Sigh, I'll return to my story.)
So the hole looks at me. I look at the hole. I sigh and say a silent pray "Dear God, please don't let me spray on myself!" I enter the room and proceed with business. Upon completion I look for the toilet paper. I gasp. No paper! NO PAPER! I am desperate and make a small squeaking sound similar to a distressed mouse. The attendant hears and gently suggests in broken English...."paper mam?" I say "YES" much louder than I had intended and a small hand comes under the door holding my wonderful modern body cleansing parchment. I thank her and complete my transaction. The paper goes down. All is well.
As I am leaving the restroom Lance makes a face at me. I have been married long enough to this man to know what that means. It is code for "Was it gross? You were in there a long time." I nod once and use one simple statemtent to sum it up. "A hole in the floor." He grimaces. We do not mention it again.
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