#Soap look like he's either internally screaming or holding back a fart

[feliciamaisey]

I Shat Myself In the Forbidden City!

As vacations go, a twelve-day vacation to India and three-day extension to China seemed ideal, especially because my eldest daughter was gifting me the experience simply because I had expressed an interest in joining her on her first journey to India.  She had always had an interest in the music, dance, and artistry of India so when she had mentioned it to me, I found a solid tourist opportunity and before I knew it, we were buying luggage and clothing suitable for such an exotic location.

India was magnificent. There was so much to see, taste, and smell that it was almost sensory overload at times, but it was undoubtedly one of the most amazing things we have ever done together.  For one thing, the country is self-contained –the Indian farmers literally grow and cultivate all of the foods and spices they use in their many dishes, which means that they need not import/export goods.  People can be quite kind and also quite pushy, as the usual stateside boundaries between people means very little in a country that boasts over a billion people, many of whom are simply bartering services or trying to sell tourists something. Colors and scents permeate every single available space like the abandoned cows, meandering water buffalo and elephants, corralled camels and homeless dogs draw one’s eye.

Before we left for our trip, I was consumed with worry that I would not be able to eat in either India or China, having given up meats, never having eaten Indian dishes due to allergies, and having abandoned Chinese food due to a poisoned shrimp roll years beforehand.  I need not have worried though, because the foods on offer were astounding; not only was there an array of fresh fruits and vegetables, but I discovered that grilled veggies and hakka noodles are literally one of the most splendid offerings that any tourist could hope to be discovered! In addition, the desserts and bread easily eclipsed the most notorious of Indian dishes.

I must say that India surprised me at every turn– from the tiger preserve with over 200 native species of birds and tigers in hiding, an outdoor shower and the rich aroma of local fauna, to Jaipur with its pink stone structures, Dehli with its systemic caste norms and its astoundingly intricate traffic patterns, dancing with locals during Holi Festival to a private tourist party where we really cut loose, India amazed. Witnessing the genius of the Taj Mahal, the mini Taj and elephants on parade, marching 30 miles to the top echelon of his majesty’s interior courtyard and visiting the royal chambers, learning about India and Pakistan,  and the most amazing tour guide made leaving India quite difficult–in fact, getting out of India was simplistic whereas getting into the country had taken several hours in the middle of the night.

China awaited, but our quaint group was now in disarray because few people vacationed forward for the three-day excursion.  Chinese officials at the airport made entering the country horrific.  It is one thing to be cautious, but the group found themselves re-writing clearance documents and opening every piece of luggage, and we stood paralyzed by the shock of unopened items being confiscated for no apparent reason, hotel maids removing complimentary boxes of everything from sewing thread to soaps and lotions from the hotel rooms once we had finally arrived, and there existed a very specific sense of being tourists–well at least compared to being in Indian where every single person, no matter their station made tourists feel welcomed and valued for being human beings (and sometimes a meal ticket).

In the three days we spent in China, we ate a “gourmet” meal in a mall, visited the Olympics Park and saw the birds’ nest stadium, still in practical use. As Americans, we were advised to how useful the Chinese people are about using what they create as opposed to the waste of Americanism.  We walked the streets in Beijing and were astounded at the weight of the sooted air and the immaculate streets that one dare not drop a dime upon, lest they find themselves whisked away by the hordes of police officers that stationed themselves on any given walkway.  There was a jade factory and museum trip and dinner insulated between the Olympics Park foray and Tiananmen Square, and the Mao Tse Tung gateways, but the part of the trip that will never let me forget China is our last day.

We awoke in a breathtaking hotel room, high above the Olympic Park–who knows which athletes must have awaited their turn to shine on the international stage, but I am sure that at least one or two enjoyed our room at one time during the Olympics tournament. Breakfast, like all meals in China, is one in which one must be certain of their food choices and portions–it is extremely rude to partake of food and waste it, specifically in Chinese culture, so I was excited when I saw what looked like an Americanized side of the buffet breakfast bar.  There were waffles and eggs, beautifully prepared and I was famished, having been quite sick the day beforehand and my legs were starting to show signs of revolt; I suffer from poor cartilage and damage to my knees as well as bunions that cause my back and legs a lot of pain in addition to my feet–damned flat feet.  Anyway, breakfast looked promising and even though I gulped down my vitamins and allergy pills, and charcoal tabs to curb poisoning should it happen, I made a terrible mistake….

Did you ever notice how much soy, heated in a vat on a breakfast buffet, looks uncharacteristically like syrup?  Well, good for you, but guess who did not notice its rancid stench and erroneously drizzled “lots” of syrup on the waffles??  I was immediately overcome by the realization of my mistake, but there it was, plain as day on the plate. I was not going to be “that” wasteful prick of an American so I tried not to breathe as I gulped down the now-spoiled meal and ran silently to the room where I tried to brush away the lingering taste on my tongue.

I would have purged the breakfast too, but it was time to leave for the Forbidden City, something that I was really excited to do, so I made my way to the group and off we went.  To put it into perspective, the Forbidden City is literally miles upon miles of courtyards and walls, statues and guard posts, long before one gets to the inner workings of the palace.  There are many guards and four checkpoints, but only one bathroom near the first checkpoint promised Americanized toilets in addition to squats, and as I am of an age that requires such checkpoints, I made my way to the bathroom.  However, the line was long and breakfast was swiftly churning inside of me.  We had walked from the hotel to the Forbidden City, taken several photo ops, and bid our time as we made our way inside the first gate, a massive set of ancient doors that could easily scare the bejeezus out of any invading army, and all that movement not only irritated my legs, but I was really starting to feel sick.

There I stood, waiting and making small talk with others from our group, until there was just myself and one other person from our group ahead of me.  When she realized that these were, in fact, all squats and only one precious Americanized toilet, she dug her heels in and began commiserating with another person. By this point, I could feel my insides churning and I was ready to cry because every toilet stall was in use.  I was trying to do something between shimmying n place to standing deathly still for fear that my insides would betray me.  I was worried about an overly loud intestine rumble or a fart to rock the ages, but just then, I felt a panic that I had b never even felt during birth-a task that I took on 4 times– I felt my body mocking me and my stupidity for mistaking soy with syrup.

I pushed past my complaining companion and ran into the first available stall, one 6 doors to my right and across the aisle.  I opened the door and the trashcan was overflowing with sanitary napkins and toilet paper. The squat was in the middle of the floor and like most stupid American jeans, my fkg pants refused to unbutton and the zipper decided that this was the moment to get stuck.  I almost screamed in agony at the pressure of trying to un- wrangle my ass from my clothing and unpack sanitary wet wipes and the realization that I would never leave this stall if the slime from within seeped out before I got my pants down and positioned over the squat. The hole in the ground was far out of my visibility at this point as I was trying, unsuccessfully, to control the lava that exploded from my anus into the squat’s opening. The floor was wet where people had used water bottles to cleanse themselves and because of my bag and jacket, I could barely keep my garments clear of the deluge of what I was sure was poisoned Chinese foods.  

At last, I was able to get the wipes in position to cleanse myself and that is when it happened…when I looked down and realized that I had positioned myself so as not to fall into the hole’s opening, but I completely missed the damned thing and soiled the toilet’s rear perimeter in a manner that even a baby’s soiled diaper would whimper from comparison.  I barely managed to get myself wiped and dressed without falling into the slime, but just then a stranger yanked at the door. I begged her to get help, to save herself and back away, to stop staring at me as the tears welled heavily against my lids and slid down like a dam’s breaking against my crimsonly embarrassed cheek, but her pretty asian face clearly misunderstood and she stood there, staring at the disgusting filth that was inescapable.  

I ran to the sinks and scrubbed my hands, waving away anyone who dared to follow her gaze and I tried to find someone to help me, but I recoiled at my shame and finally ran to my daughter in tears.  She had no choice, but to hold back he natural inclination to burst into laughter as I cried into her ear, “I shat myself in the Forbidden City!” As is her way, she consoled me and made sure that I was not wearing any of the soil on my person before we crossed the immense vastness of the courtyard and lost ourselves in the palace’s secrets.

Even the Great Wall of China, blowing my knee completely on its steep incline, and finding an Americanized bathroom for my daughter on the premises that night paled in the shock and horror of being “that shitty American.”