Toilet Trauma

Some of my most awkward moments in China have been spent in the bathroom.  I wish I could say that these moments had been spent solitarily, but alas, they have not.  They have been spent with maintenance men.

The reality of human waste carries much less social stigmatism in a country where, until recently, entire neighborhoods shared a common toilet facility.  That's not to say that the situation no longer exists, it absolutely does in many neighborhoods including the one below my apartment, but the majority of people in cities and even smaller towns live in high-rise apartments.  I have used these communal bathrooms many times, and they are anything but discreet.  They are most easily found by following one's sense of smell.  Upon entering, you normally find four or five holes in the floor.  That's all.  No walls, rarely plumbing.  So, needless to say, people are less squirmy about bathroom privacy or the thought/sight of human waste.

I could share a myriad of stories about embarrassing bathroom situations involving Chinese maintenance men including (but not limited to): falling through the plastic toilet seat cover and into the toilet and then being caught by a maintenance hero before tumbling to the floor all while trying to point out the desired height of a new shower head, having a maintenance man take apart my plumbing lines and a radiator in an effort to find the ring I later found in the powdered laundry detergent bag (while he was still there), and many involving galoshes, toilet snakes, plungers, and lakes of poo - one of the most scarring included the entire hotel staff crammed inside my hotel room watching the whole affair.

Today I had a less embarrassing experience, but very typical one, in which I spent an hour sitting on the floor of the bathroom drinking my coffee while a maintenance man took apart my entire toilet at least twice.  Each time he emptied the entire toilet tank's contents of water all over the floor.  Wonderful.

The problem: recently my toilet has been taking a really long time to recover after being flushed and it doesn't have very good water pressure to start with.  So, it takes multiple flushes to take care of business (often with a smelly waiting period in between). This gets embarrassing when a guest has to use the toilet and ends up panicking in the bathroom for ten minutes. 

Any experience with a maintenance man first starts with a phone call to the operator either of the apartment office or hotel front desk.  This can be the most trying part of the whole saga.  Explaining plumbing problems over the phone is no easy task for someone who doesn't understand plumbing in any language, but trying to explain them in Chinese brings an awkward conversation to a whole new level.  Luckily today's problem wasn't an emergency, because that is even less fun.  

Today's conversation (translated from the original Chinese):

April: Hello?

Operator: Hello?

April: Hi, I have a problem with my toilet.  (I would like to note here that I am 100% confident that I know the Chinese word for "toilet" and used it properly throughout this conversation.)

Operator: With what part of your bathroom?

April: The toilet.

Operator: Where in the bathroom?

April: Where?  In my toilet!

Operator: What's the problem?  

April: There's a problem with the water, when you use it there's not enough and it is really slow.

Operator: Is the faucet broken?

April: No, it's a toilet.

Operator: Is there a problem with the hot water or the cold water?

April: There is no hot or cold water, it's a toilet, it's just regular water but it's really slow.

Operator: Well, what's the problem?

April: I don't know, I just told you the problem, I'm not exactly sure what's wrong or how to say it.

-----long pause-----

Operator: Are you home now?

April: Yes.  Can you send someone to look at it?

Operator: Okay, I'll send someone now.

April: Thank you.

The final verdict in today's chapter was that I need a new part.  One thing's for sure, dealing with operators and maintenance men is trying, but tracking down plumbing parts on your bicycle in a city void of The Real Yellow Pages and then trying to bargain for the real price when you don't even know the name of the thing in English, much less Chinese, is enough to make anyone crazy. Happy hunting to me!