Perhaps not the most appetizing of topics, but it is certainly worthy of some discussion. If you are easily offended, you may want to skip this post.

Our family, as all other families in these Soviet style apartment blocks must do, shares the use of a central bathroom. It is actually divided into the loo (toilet room, or туалет) and the shower (душ); and they are side by side. The shower room has the washing machine, a sink, and a tub/shower with a portable showerhead. More on this room in another post. This one is dedicated to the loo.

I’m assuming ours is the same (or of very similar) style as most all residences that have not been remodeled. Our unit is fairly large as a 4-bedroom, so I can only guess that smaller units also have only one toilet. Moreover, the block-style buildings have identical floorplans as you go vertically… so it is a logical assumption (I think).

So our toilet room is approximately 1 meter by less than a meter. Yep, kinda claustrophobic for my taste, but hey, it’s a loo — get in, get out is my philosophy. Furthermore, considering all the dastardly bathroom conditions around the world, this is a “palace” of a loo.

The family was thoughtful enough to buy a new toilet before we arrived. I can only imagine what the previous one was like. Nevertheless, as I said before, this was a very thoughtful and considerate gesture. In fact, as far as toilets go, I might even say this one is beautiful! As is common in these parts, is is a dual flusher. The left button is for liquids only, the right for more extended bathroom visits. However, I have a feeling that the toilet was one of those advertised all over town on huge, brightly-colored orange billboards: “new toilet, only 186 grivna,” (like $35 USD) at the local super center for building materials and construction supplies. I say this sarcastically because the toilet, though it does function properly, also has one major flaw: it splashes.

… Yes, splashes.

You, are telling me? No shit it’s disgusting (pun intended). Who the hell designed a toilet that splashes toilet water on the seat and beyond — even for half flushes? Duuuuuude. F’n retards. Thank God for disinfectant. I think I’m gonna drop a brick in the tank to reduce the flush flow and extra-bowl events. What can one do? I suppose we could buy a new one. But damned if I’m gonna look like an American “prince” that needs everything to be perfect in order to live here. So, I’m dealing with it the best I can. I try not to think about it, but it is hard.

Moving on…

After about a week of befriending the new porcelain receptacle, I began noticing some unusual sounds in the room. Although I could subtly hear the neighbors, either upstairs or downstairs (I’m not sure) through the fan-less vent near the ceiling, these are not the sounds I’m referring to. These curious and foreign sounds were infrequent and sporadic, and were “flowing” sounds. I pinpointed these sounds to my left, posterior space quadrant, while sitting. After the 10th time, I realized that this was not simply a novel, unidentifiable, structural building sound. It had a characteristic and repeatable tempo and intensity. ‘What the hell is that sound?’ I asked myself.

Well, it didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure it out. The standpipe on the right (see picture) is the main sewer pipe for all of the apartments in our vertical space. Being that we are on the 5th floor of the building, there are several floors above us that communally utilize this drain.

Upon further investigation, I began noticing when people upstairs were taking a shower, washing dishes, or unfortunately, had flushed the toilet. It’s mostly the volume and constancy of the flow that helps to identify the source. On occasion you hear a distinct “burst” of flow. “This can be only one thing,” I say to my self. Yep, I’m sure you guessed it as well. Sewer trouts. Damn, that is a disgusting deduction. Sure, I know this happens all over the world, every instant of every day. But generally you don’t hear them flow by. Moreover, they don’t swim by your head. Actually, to be more accurate, the disintegrating masses are in a freefall to the gut of the building.

I suppose I should be happy that we (at least) have water and sewers to carry the defecation away. But to think that while you are seated at the throne, someone else (positioned immediately above you in vertical space, mind you!) just stood up and flushed one down is perhaps one of the grossest bathroom visions I’ve ever had. You cannot help but look up at the ceiling and imagine… uggghhhh.

Now, every time I hear one pass by in the pipe, I can’t help but think to myself about the cause and effect of the sound. OK, fine, that’s an exaggeration. I’ve now come to terms with our communal 4″ pipe. In fact, I sometimes praise the pipe that serves all of our building’s daily needs. Without it we would be up shit creek without a drain.

Before I arrived, there was nothing to deal with the odors that routinely emanate from the loo. I was somewhat shocked by this lack of concern. Particularly because some members of the household tend to smell up, no, destroy the bathroom, if you catch my drift. No wonder the wallpaper is peeling. I mandated that there be some sort of air freshener and matches available at all times.

Much better. But getting people to routinely use them is another matter. This was most evident when BIL made use of the facility in a dastardly, dare I say devious, manner. I considered it so because the rest of the family was in the kitchen when the aforementioned destruction took place. Also, it now needs to be noted that the kitchen is immediately adjacent to the loo, which is an unfortunate design if you ask me. I suppose it is convenient from a plumbing standpoint, but… damn! Anyhow, we were eating peacefully, when without warning the loo door opened and BIL quickly walked the other way. BLAMMO! The noxious gas hit us all like a tidal wave. We all lost our appetite instantly. He HAD TO KNOW that this was one of his most toxic episodes, and he failed to launch preventative measures to reduce odor diffusion.
BIL was chastised about it later. Characteristically, he pledged ignorance to his own malodorous, bowel-borne extravasation. Asshole. He knows his shit smells bad. Thankfully I think he has learned, and has recently begun lighting a match to cover up his (which is by far the worst in the family) microbial stench.

A couple of other things that are worth mentioning. Not that it is a big deal, but is seems that Russians are a bit paranoid about having any electrical outlets in/around areas where there is water (or even water vapor). Consequently, there are no power outlets or light switches INSIDE either the toilet or shower rooms. This is quite a pain for shaving, as an extension cord must be used. Same goes for the hair dryer and the washing machine. So much for blocking out the sound. The bigger issues is that the light switches are OUTSIDE the rooms. So, occasionally someone switches the lights off while you are doing your thing — thinking that nobody is in the bathroom. Hopefully they hear you scream to turn it back on. Years ago, when the kids were, kids, they would routinely turn the lights off while their siblings were busy. Yeah. Funny. The first time.

Another, slightly more disturbing aspect of the loo room is the lack of privacy. For whatever reason, the door appears to be made without any insulation. The sounds coming from the loo pass right through the door as if there were no door. In fact, I want to say that the sounds are amplified by the shape of the room. There is no hiding ALL sounds — and when you have company over, this is just embarrassing, bordering on unacceptable. I think I may go buy a seal for the door, and tile the inner surface too. Something has to be done… it is nauseating.

Lastly, because I’ve got to get to work…

Toilet paper deserves a comment. For eons they (Russians / Ukrainians) have not known what consideration has been given to the routine wiping of one’s bum in the developed world. Most people here continue to use the standard cardboard-like material that adorns market shelves everywhere. In fact, it is cheap (25 cents) and comes in 65m rolls. But damn, this stuff is NOT soft. I think one roll out of 30 has been semi-soft. For evidence of its stiffness, have a look at the second picture of the post above; note how the paper defies gravity as it comes out of the holder. Moreover, absorbency remains a foreign word here. On occasion I go to the market and buy some Charmin, just to treat us. Neeless to say, this is viewed as a total luxury here. I’m sure they think I’m a prince. (but then again, I’ve noticed them replenishing the supplies with the soft rolls when the stiff stuff is right there — so I know they like it too — which makes me happy!)

Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Without notice, they (local maintenance people) turned the water off today. Luckily it was only for about an hour. Let’s hope it doesn’t happen just before flushing…