Sharon and Jacques’ Excellent Blog

On my birthday I thought I would do a small brain download on a number of firsts I managed to accomplish in the past year. 

I am thrilled to report that I actually managed a squat toilet on the last day of my 40th year.  Perhaps not a big deal to many of you, but let me tell you, I have a thing about this.  When I first met Jacques, he took me to Wolf Island near Kingston to see some owls.  I was still in that misty eyed part of love, where sharing everything with your beloved was a discovery and joy.  Sharon’s idea of bird watching was reading Cosmo while I tried to show her owls and keep my enthusiasm up. This was the joy killer.  It was about 40 below zero and though we had seen quite a few owls sitting on fence posts, I needed to go to the bathroom.  Wolf Island is not known for its abundance of Tim Horton’s, so Jacques found me an outhouse near the ferry.  With a pride that only a prepared birdwatcher had, he handed me a roll of toilet paper.  You would think he was a boy scout.  Not wanting to show any fear, I stepped into that outhouse determined to do my business.  Let me tell you, at those temperatures, you want to be really fast.  Frostbite on your privies is not something to explain to hospital admin staff.  I swear on the life of my cat, it froze on the way down and I heard the breaking of icicles.  From that day forward, I swore I would always find an adequate facility. That was also the end of Sharon’s interest in bird watching and its actually not factually correct. The 1st time Sharon squatted was when she took me to Manitoulin Island for my birthday and we went fishing. The guide and I managed to consume a large quantity of scotch and when Sharon needed to go, we took her to an island and told her to get off the main area and squat on the rock. What we failed to mention was the fact that this island had an excellent abundance of rattlesnakes. When Sharon came back, we did mention this to her. This could be the reason that Sharon has issues with squatting.

So about a month ago we went camping and portaging in Algonquin Park.  I was a tent virgin.  Never slept in one before.  (We did sleep in one in the living room and Sharon crumpled up balls of orange paper for the fire…) Did not really see the point actually.  But once again, I thought that I should at least try it once.  Off we went and sure enough, once we set up camp, it was necessary to use the bog.  This time, I had lots of company.  I had to figure a way to get my tushie on the hole before the mosquitoes could get a bite.  I tried to create a tent around me with my rain jacket to prevent any bites in odd places.  I succeeded, kind of.  I also made a point of going before bed and not drinking in the evening.  I am a middle of the night visitor and there was no way I was going to climb that hill in the middle of the night and be bear bait. Sharon also told me that I would have to go with her if she needed to go. I feed her sleeping pills and other than the odd freak out, she slept like a baby. I thought about buying a bear bell before the trip, but Jacques said that just made it easier for blind bears to find food.  The other challenge was to not get freaked out by this chattering squirrel who kept me company every time I went.  It was kind of weird being observed, but then how the heck do you get rid of a voyeur squirrel.  Pervert.

Yesterday, as we had our leisurely boat ride up some river to get to some pagoda and some cave (jaded already), I had to go.  No way was I going in the bush, there be snakes!  So I held it until we got to the “restaurant” in the little village.  I am prepared with my toilet paper and a large packet of wet ones.  As I march to the bathroom (making several wrong turns), I think, “I can do this”.  I open the door of the outdoor toilet (didn’t I say I would never do this again), and it is a squat toilet.  Basically a hole in the ground, and yes, you have to squat.  I am wearing pants.  How the hell do I manage this?  I drop my pants and go to squat.  My knees are not built for this!  How the heck am I going to make it back up without toppling over and landing in the drink?  Never mind, I just need to concentrate to keep my balance and not wet myself.  I manage to do my business and use all the accoutrements that I brought with me without toppling in.  I pull up my pants and look around.  Where the hell is the flusher?  What do I do now?  I can’t possibly leave it!

I step out of the bathroom and see two huge barrels of water and a pitcher.  I surmise that I have to dump the water into the hole and “flush” that way.  How many buckets will it take?  Two pitchers later and all is good.  I pull out another “wet one” and give myself a hand washing and march back to the table.  Mission accomplished.

So here I sit grateful for western toilets, good knees and the ability to keep my balance.  I have to remember not to drink to much because all those skills will go out the window. 

I have managed to pass 40, and a whole lot more.