I’ve twice mentioned here my favorite public restroom in Minsk, which I called the Piss Palace. Unfortunately, it was so grand that the authorities have decided to convert it to a souvenir store. That restroom was at one end of a continuum, and not all are so nice.
I thought to write a little story about restrooms at the other end of the spectrum, but I’m not sure anybody wants to read about it. What’s interesting, however, is that I’ve gotten so used to the whole spectrum that I found myself walking into a particularly “charming” stall at my dance school and thinking “I love this place (Belarus.)” I do, but not necessarily because I find those stalls cute. I guess I find it cute that nobody freaks out over them. There’s soap and a somewhat-effective warm-air hand dryer. We wash our hands and return to each other. No big deal.
==> Click here if you really must see a picture of it.
I thought to write a little story about restrooms at the other end of the spectrum, but I’m not sure anybody wants to read about it. What’s interesting, however, is that I’ve gotten so used to the whole spectrum that I found myself walking into a particularly “charming” stall at my dance school and thinking “I love this place (Belarus.)” I do, but not necessarily because I find those stalls cute. I guess I find it cute that nobody freaks out over them. There’s soap and a somewhat-effective warm-air hand dryer. We wash our hands and return to each other. No big deal.
==> Click here if you really must see a picture of it.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.