Toilet paper - don't leave home without it

Toilet paper. In the Western world we take it for granted; we look at the fine points such as whether it's three ply or four ply or two ply; whether it's scented or unscented; new or recycled. But I can assure you, all of these are moot points when you are faced with a bathroom in an Indian civil service building and a desperate need for Imodium.

Let's just say that I was doing pretty well for the first week or so since arriving in Delhi. But last weekend I became a little more adventurous: I went out to a popular and well reputed restaurant in the Defense Colony market; and, I also started drinking water not out of a bottle but processed through a reverse osmosis machine. Whether it was the restaurant, the machine, or just that I ran out of luck, the infamous "Delhi belly" came on in full form.

That would not have been so bad, in principle, had it not been for the fact that I had a meeting in a ministry office and no more than 15 minutes into the meeting I had to excuse myself. While being escorted to the bathroom I received a somewhat apologetical somewhat informational brief to newcomers -- that the standards of the facilities were indeed subpar.

Now, I don't know about you, but subpar means one ply toilet paper. Subpar means it smells bad. Subpar means means it's dirty. Subpar means it has the dreaded North African/French toilets (i.e. the white porcelain whole in the ground with no seat -- I still not sure how you use one of these especially when you have a business suit on). Subpar is like the outhouse I used during a camping trip in New Mexico. But subpar has nothing to do with what I discovered this morning.

To my surprise, the bathroom was clean, there were sinks with soap. There were urinals on one side and stalls on the other. I went to one of the stalls and open the door and found the toilet, a brush, and a smallish bucket sitting on the floor with a small spigot just above it. What I didn't find was toilet paper. I exited from the stall and went into the one adjacent. Same arrangement, North African toilet though; no TP. So, I went back into the original stall. I need not elaborate further.

I now know why certain cultures only eat with their left hands.