The Violin

The Violin

The violin
transcends,
soars,
reinvents
the emotional
core,
weaving thoughts
to music,
soothes,
heals,
a balm
that recreates
imagination
with simple
strings and complex motion

classroom with a twist

Monologue from My Chinese ESL Class

Class has started, four students sit in various parts of the class, two eating their Uber-delivered Popeye chicken from down the street, while one of the pair is watching a video, the other texting to stay close, quietly whispering in Mandarin.

On either end of the class two other academics write tests they have missed, on work they have not covered, during days they did not attend, about things they have little interest and less understanding. She plays with her hair then fiddles for endless time with her fingers.  I puzzle what she sees there as it fascinates her long term.

The back story has a vending machine technician repairing the soda machine located right in the classroom.  The computer generated voice from within the machine is about the only English I hear in this Chinese ESL classroom as the students prefer their native Mandarin. As she works, the machine responds to various prompts much better than my own students.

 “Make a selection"

“You have not been charged.”

"Please choose the desired product.

"A product has not been selected."

Stripper names

Speech Impediments

We English speakers can’t get our tongues
around the Chinese names
so they rebrand themselves:
Tizzy,
Kiki and Strawberry.
No one told them those are
stripper names.

Buttered Chicken

Buttered Chicken

He looked at the buttered chicken casserole
with vacant eyes.
I was suppose to go before she did.
What am I going to do now?

Today, out shovelling his drive
we faced
I with few words
he with less
looked at each other
"I'm sorry for your loss"
was all I could muster
"I know it sounds trite,
I don't have the words...
If it were me I have no Idea...
"I know, he said, she was my life.

Waterloo Costco

Don’t Go Flat at WATERLOO COSCO

I currently have a love hate relationship with WATERLOO COSTCO.  I certainly love walking the aisles and sampling food.  I can literally fill up on quarter muffin samples the size of a normal mortal muffin, cheeses, various cold cuts, pastas lemon-aid and just about anything else they sell, and they sell most everything.  They have great deals if you don’t mind buying everything in super sizes which could last the average person months or years rather than weeks.

My problem, the hate part, came on December 2, 2018 at 5:15.  It was pouring rain, one of those cats and dogs evenings, cold  too!  We had just finished shopping and drove our car closer to the entrance, loaded everything in the trunk, when we discovered the front driver’s tire was flat.

Fortunately, I was parked right beside the bay door of their automotive center.  I mean if you are going to get a flat tire why not in front of a garage where they fix that sort of thing...right.

Unfortunately, I had to unpack everything and put it in the back seat so I could get at my donought sized spare tire.

Then I got out into the wet, cold blustery night and walked towards the light and warmth of the bright bay doors of the garage.  There was no way in, so I had to go around to the front of the store and get in line, the long line at the automotive counter.

I read a sign which read they were fully booked for snow tire rotation and it was now on a first come first serve basis...foreshadowing?!

Well, yes.  When my turn came.  I stated, “Hi I’m parked in front of one of your bay doors with a flat tire I got while in your parking lot.  Could you please fix that for me?”

“Why sure, would you like to make an appointment for Thursday?”

“I was thinking now, today, as I mentioned I am actually partially blocking one of your bay doors with my car and it has a flat tire.”

“Okay then, maybe Wednesday at the earliest.”

“Listen, normally I would change it myself but I have a heart condition and I really can’t do that sort of thing any more and like I said...”

“Sorry, can’t do it you have to make an appointment.”

I left.

I then phoned the motor league CAA they arrived in 25 minutes and with orange lights flashing changed my tire right in front of the  WATERLOO COSCO automotive center bay door.

I sat dry in my car as the burly CAA guy jacked up the car.  I thought how ironic is this, right it front of the WATERLOO COSTCO garage CAA comes to the rescue.  Irony, that was lost on the COSCO manager when I lodged my complaint about how oblivious and insensitive large corporations are to the little guy...do like their muffins though.

A Dear John letter...

A Dear John Letter

Dear John,

I regret to inform you that several high schools
bearing your once proud name are considering
removing it and replacing it with a more generic name
like high school 53, or John Doe High School,
sad to tell you that a statue in your likeness
has been removed from a government building
in Victoria, you know that city where you built
that scandalous railroad that cost you an election.

I know, John, historians generally see you as our most
influential Prime Minister of all time, even in the West,
I mean if you couldn’t beat out Trudeau, I know you’ve
never met...just saying.  If only you had gone lighter
on Riel and the Metis and that whole deal with the
residential schools, I mean for I guy who valued books
like you it wasn’t your best move. But all in all you did
help unite this factious, geographical enigma into a quasi
distinct whole and saved us from our crazy southern
neighbours.  God if you could only see what’s happening
there now.  But enough of that...

Anyway thanks for Canada, but really sorry about the statue thing!

a fan

Game of Thrones scenes filmed in Seville, Spain

 Certain scenes from Game of Thrones were filmed in these royal gardens in Seville the former castle of Queen Isabella of spain.  It was from here that she sent Columbus on his journeys of exploration and from here she defeated the Moors.

Eastern European Prostitutes Make good Neighbours...

Some Neighbourly Insights

An aggregate definition of the word neighbour simply states that it is a person or a thing, a like entity, who either lives near by, or is located in close proximity.  To my surprise the definitions that I checked were exclusively geographical and spatial in nature, that is to say there was no emotional or social component even implying that neighbours “get along," neighbours can be friends, even borrow cups of sugar, or hand tools.  In fact nothing of a social nature came up in any definition.

This lack of social content made me curious about the very nature of neighbours and gave me pause to reflect on my own nomadic life style and the many neighbours I have had.

When I was born, almost seven decades ago, my parents brought me to their, and I guess my first house on Vine St in St. Catharines.  There my older seductive female neighbour Candy intoduced me to a little game she liked to call, I’ll let you see mine if you let me see yours.  In my Mennonite innocence I thought at first she was referring to my marble or coin collection.

She got me focussed on the real issues at hand by sitting me on a couch in her basement and showed me the lingerie and bathing suit sections from the Sears and Eaton’s catalogues, systematically and throughly constantly quizzing me on what I thought of this girl or that.  To me at first it all seemed like a totally pointless exercise.

Anyway, Candy eventually revealed many heavenly, bodily secrets to me that I will never find in any catalogue anywhere.  To this day if I see a catalogue I still think with affection of Candy (even if her brother tried to kill me)...now that was a neighbour.

Robert Frost writes that good neighbours build fences and require a degree of separation to keep the peace and good will flowing. This class of neighbour especially follows the geographic definition I first came across. I have had several anal retentive neighbours of this definition type who have laid out the boundary-line defining the properties, theirs and mine, with wooden stakes and yellow ropes.

We were at liberty to wave at each other while cutting grass, shovelling snow, taking out garbage and at many other ceremonial and traditional neighbourly occasions during the year, but it would always be across a visible yellow rope.  Somehow such a demarcation kills the spontaneity of relationship building.

More recently, we have had neighbours who outwardly could be quasi-friendly while covertly plotting our demise in sinister clandestine tones while openly lying to your face. The friendly hypocrites. This couple engaged my wife and I in superficial friendly banter, waved at us on the above mentioned ceremonial and traditional neighbour interaction days such as grass cutting, weed plucking, etc only to, at every opportunity, report us to the city by-law officers for every perceived infraction of any by-law they could possibly manufacture.

They once complained to bylaw about our hot tub use before we even had our hot tub hooked to electrical or  even filled with water.  Mind boggling!  They lodged complaints on a regular basis, nothing ever stuck, but only served to prove what lousy neighbours they were and always would be.

I tried to remain friendly, on the surface, with these neighbours, only because I think it really irritated them. I think this neighbour brought out the best, or worst of all my passive/aggressive tendencies.  I secretly plotted their downfall.  Eventually, we moved across the street.

While in university I lived in an apartment on the third floor next to the elevator, a constant source of irritation, but even worse was the basketball, thumping neighbour who lived just below.  Finally, one night, make that early, early morning I could stand the noise no longer the THUMP, THUMP, thump, thump,THUMP... that never seemed to stop.  It was like Chinese water torture with the slow steady inescapably drip to the forehead...‘till finally, "Yes I’ll tell you all the codes you want just make the dripping stop."

Indignantly I threw on my house coat, got my slippers out from the back of the closet, put on the kettle, brewed some tea,  watched a few minutes of a late night talk show, got up my courage and marched straight downstairs,  boycotting the elevator, to confront my noisy neighbour.  I had had it!!!

I knocked on his door.  I suppose that was only a tap.  I KNOCKED on his door.  It opened slowly inward, as doors do.  There standing and holding his basketball upside down in the palm of one hand was my seven foot something neighbour.  He was intimidating.  In a quiet polite voice I asked him if he could please practice at another time and in return I hope I really wasn’t disturbing him. Good-night. I fled.

Amazingly the bouncing stopped.  That experience taught me that by addressing conflict situations head-on, regardless of circumstances, there are always solutions.  That was a neighbour with a life lesson.

While living in Kuwait City on the eighth floor apartment, over looking the Arabian (Persian) Gulf, we were frequently bothered by extremely noisy parties from the tenth floor.  Eventually, we identified them as coming from that floor, but originally the sounds were so loud they seemed to emanate from all directions making it almost impossible to isolate the source.

Often in the lobby we witnessed caterers coming in with elaborate food trays.  In addition there were many, what appeared to be Eastern European prostitutes.  I’m not at liberty to say why I could so easily recognize an Eastern European prostitute, but suffice it to say they tend to stand out in a Middle Eastern environment.

On one particular night there was a particularly loud party. Going out on to the balcony we could not at first tell where it was coming from, up or down.  Out in the hall sound seemed to reverberate in crazy echoes and the source was even more difficult to discern.

First, I walked down the stairs and as the party sounds grew quieter I reversed direction until my wife and I reached the tenth floor.  The penthouse.

My palms began to sweat as I had flashbacks to university days fearing that a seven foot something basketball giant could aggressively come to the door, or worse.  We knocked. I suppose that was only a tap.  We knocked louder, then louder still.  The door opened inward as doors do.  I was fearful to look in.

The basketball player had been replaced by an incredible half naked, full-bodied, extremely seductive, Eastern European prostitute. I know don’t ask. I made the universal hand gesture for your music is far too loud, likely exceeding 140 decibels, could you kindly turn it down.

A drink in one hand, laughing, another universal language, and highly flushed and still only partially clothed, as I vaguely recall she was wearing a man's light blue striped shirt with the top four buttons undone, she had a gold necklace with a large pendent buried between her amazing cleavage.  She was moderately tanned, in bare feet about 5 feet 4 inches with straight blond hair, likely dyed...but I only caught a fleeting glance.  She shrugged her shoulders at my feeble attempt at communication and quickly left with the door still wide open.



Next to arrive also half clothed, shirt undone, in boxer shorts, was our Kuwaiti landlord.

I mumbled under my breath or thought it, hoping to God it was not in a speech bubble above my head, “Holly mother of God are we totally fucked”.

The look on my wife’s face seemed to indicate that she concurred making me think I had actually said this out loud or there was in fact a speech bubble above my head.  I looked up.

In a Canadian context you might think no big deal, or even how ironic you are complaining about noise to your landlord.  Put in a cultural context this semi-naked guy in front of us, the owner of his building in which we were but mere foreign tenants, in an Islamic despotic state, who could have us jailed, with our passports taken, and left to rot while being abused nightly by unshaven guards in a cold prison cell...made me think over my limited options.

Fortunately, Kuwait being a shaming culture caused our dear landlord to actually listen to our plea concerning the noise. We quickly departed in fear for our lives thinking perhaps our pleas had fallen on deaf ears. We sought sanctuary in our apartment waiting for the police to take us to prison for an indefinite internment.

That night in Kuwait my landlord neighbour taught me fear....but as time passed, shamed by a westerner and his wife, we felt safer.   We kept a low profile in the future even while watching the caterers and Eastern European Prostitutes heading up to the tenth floor to our landlord/neighbour.

As for the definition of neighbour...I think it has more to do with border definitions, sexual awareness, athletic prowess, dysfunctional hot tubs, random complaints and Eastern European Prostitutes in close proximity.

 

BlackBerry

A BlackBerry advert as it appeared on the back of a bus in Kuwait City in 2008.  Ten short years ago it reigned supreme and then along came the Smartphone and the rest is history...

Learning Styles in a Modern World

Learning Styles in a Modern World

Tom Wayman is a Canadian poet who wrote about what he called the “central experience of everyday life which is what people do for a living, their work.”  His poems are often humorous and ironic.  In his poem entitled Students (1993) he writes about the learning styles of students.  These styles although now some 25 years old are still in vogue.  In my own teaching career spanning 40 years, I have encountered all of these strategies and many more.

The first of these styles he describes as, The Vaccination Theory of Education.  Once you have studied a subject you are immune and never have to consider it again.  these students tend to be oblivious to the world, truth, knowledge, enlightenment and could likely grow up to be Trump supporters as they will only read fake news on social media sources and yet feel fully aware and act as if they know it all.

Other students entertain the Dipstick Theory of Education: as with a car engine, where as long as the oil level is above the add line there is no need to put in more oil, so if you receive a pass or higher, why put in any more learning?  These students are true minimalists and experience actually physical and emotional pain if they are forced to perform outside the narrow parameters of their comfort zone which is the size of a small closed box.



The Kung Fu Theory of Education has to do with learning as self-defense. the more you understand about what’s occurring around you the better prepared you are to deal with difficulties.  This theory is the only one that seems to have a morsel of potential, yet it is one that does not engage the world.  It is the opposite of life long learning as it is isolationist by nature.  These students remain with the status quo and do not grow intellectually, emotionally or morally.


The fourth theory called the Easy Listening Theory of Learning has been almost universally adopted by students today, in which time spent in class is far more enjoyable with ear phones or ear buds implanted in their ears allowing for silent enjoyment in a pleasurable world of music.

When Wayman wrote he referred to:  “her tape recorder earphones on”...my how the technology has changed.  This approach has been so alarmingly and overwhelmingly embraced that the tsunami of its advance is virtually unstoppable in the classroom.  Teachers are nearly paralyzed as many administrators and parents enable and promote the continued use of cell phones in a learning environment.

When it comes to the use of cell phones in class I have been physically attacked when separating a highly anxious student from his most valuable possession in life.  He went at me with fists flying like an Argentinian cowboy swinging bolo balls.  If viewed only from a slapstick perspective, from an out of body experience, the whole thing would probably appear quite comical even surreal.

I guess what I learned out of the attack experience , as an educator, is that the smart phone is not a simile.  It is not like life.  It is a metaphor. It is in fact life itself in all its multi media forms.


I have witnessed a student sit and listen, text, email and engage in social media activities during an hour of class time. As I watched this phenomena unfold I bit my lip, said nothing, as oblivious to her surroundings she remained absolutely off task for the entire class.  After class, as she slowly re-entered orbit and gained consciousness she began gathering her effects I then quickly asked if her Smart phone was a distraction.  She picked up her things, left in a huff, “I don’t want to talk about it.” Clearly I had crossed a line. Understandably many addicts can not face their addictions.


Memo:  To all Staff

From:  Education Committee

Re:  Proposed Five-Tier Credit Recovery System

November, 2007

_____________________________________________________

In keeping with school policy, student achievement and accountability directives, the Education Committee recognizes the pedagogical necessity of our current two tier system involving credit recovery and credit rescue.  However, our concerted efforts are now needed to systematically reduce the drop out rate by facilitating student achievement using a five-tier system.

Level 1 and 2

Recovery and Rescue programs will remain intact thereby allowing marginal achievers to regain credits through minimal intrinsic motivation or self help initiatives.

Level 3

Credit Resuscitation pairs a student with a mentor/tutor in a home instruction program making it possible for students to gain potentially lost credits from the comfort of their own homes while staying in contact with peers via cell phone.

Level 4

Credit Transplant is an exciting and innovative concept through which students may actually receive credit transfers from family members who have previously received the same credit and are no longer using it. This approach serves to minimize costs as no teachers or resources are actually required.

Level 5

Credit Reincarnation, much like credit transplant, allows students to resurrect, as it were, unused and otherwise wasted credits from deceased family members.

In the unlikely event a student “slips through the cracks” of this impermeable five tier credit system they may find it necessary to take a reality check and be held accountable for their actions within a school system which at least attempts to parallel the multiple challenges of the real world. In which case they may then be required to open a book, study, show up for class (on time and in uniform) and work.

Or,
… catch the credit in summer school.

a return to sepia

a return to sepia

in his studio
grandfather made single pictures
on thick glass plates
of serious faces, in formal dresses,
using sepia tones, once I saw one
of grandmother smiling
her hair was down

1950’s with a hand-held kodak
the world appeared
in black and white
12 images on a roll
“smile for the camera,
say cheese”
my parents, out of character,
caught hugging.




today everyone
a photographer
posting on social media
in techni-colour
life on instagram:
this is what I ate for dinner,
my dessert,
my boyfriend sexting,
to infinity

on edit mode
I can set them all back
to sepia tones.

m.r.

dirty little secrets

dirty little secrets

she died at 94
new owners
an older house under renovation
held old secrets
of past lives

the rafters above the party room
60’s porn, lace panties,
delicate lingerie, in many sizes,
inventive toys, decades old cigarettes
dried and cured

neighbourhood lore has it those
neighbours, once close
so close
stopped talking
closed their doors
on their dirty little secrets

Deep and Timely Questions on the Nature of Things

Deep and Timely Questions on the Nature of Things


Squirrels are indecisive street crossers.  They are worse, far worse than a deer in headlights.  In such cases a deer will just freeze, stand its ground and mindlessly get hit, or worse, watch as a driver swerves to avoid collision then drives into a ditch and kills himself while totally writing off his car, which would be, after death, a moot point any way.

Squirrels do that little dance while crossing a street.  They charge across at full speed only to stop half way across.  They could go either way, but choose to go neither. They sit and stare with myopic vision, maybe instead feeling the vibrations in the road with some sixth sense waiting for insight as to where to go, and for once they can’t go up, maybe therein lies the dilemma.

They are out of their depth on a two dimensional playing field.  Its like this: is the chestnut behind door #1, door #2 or door #3.  The squirrel is in a tizzy trying to decide which way to go. Does both, first forth and then back, repeats the pattern in reverse, stands still, deer-like, then at the last moment kamikaze style lunges for the curb.


Lately, I have been more tempted to run squirrels down when they cross my sleepy little tree-lined street.  I know that may sound subversive and I wouldn’t want my grandkids to read this until long after I’m gone and then only if I can place this in proper context.  I know I should feel relief when I miss the damn things as they, at adrenaline speed make the curb...but in fact I don’t want to kill them because they are indecisive. I simply want to kill them because they are annoying.

My neighbours on all sides have mature Maple trees as we do, they unlike us, wrap the tree trunks with bands of thick aluminum to prevent the squirrels from climbing the trees and chewing off the tasty new bark and buds in the spring time. When I first moved into the neighbourhood, like all my guests since, ask what the bands are for on the trees.  I explain that they are to keep the squirrels off the trees and are about as effective as restraining Houdini with hand cuffs and a straight jacket.

Squirrels mock us at every turn and jump as they leap from fence to roof top to low hanging branches to virtually any Maple Tree they desire banded or not.  Squirrels mock and shame us.

Bird feeders.  See that’s not even a sentence and you know where I’m going with that thought. Bird feeders are built to challenge, but never exceed the spatial and gymnastic abilities of squirrels.  The feed may be intended for birds but rarely do they get their share unless they are very fast, large and belligerent.  Squirrels belittle mankind’s ability to design predator proof feeders, just another form of shaming and mockery.

Squirrels dig up gardens, rummage and spread garbage over my driveway and yard.  They routinely and systematically open up the locks on my composting containers so they can feast in abundance.  There is no stopping these creatures.  They mock and shame us at every corner.  They are a threat to our dignity and existence.  They must be stopped.

I’ve been told that every dead squirrel at the road side is a victory for mankind, or I often wonder is it just a pathetic cry for help from our furry misunderstood forest friends?   Is it a simple function of the twin evils of anxiety and depression from a fast paced life style.  Sadly, we may never know all the answers to such deep and timely emotional and nature based lines of inquiry.

Squirrel!!!!!!


Acrobatic Romance

In the Maple grove across the street,
I watched a black squirrel chase a grey
across the creek.
Then, ascending in spirals along the trunk,
An acrobatic romance,

That would not last.

Corrections

Corrections

to my student...

“I made a few minor corrections,
for example when you place
your introduction it should really go
at the beginning instead of the
end of the sentence like you’ve
been doing, and when you give
a quote to prove an important
point you would
like to make you should explain
it and not make it stand alone and
do all the work, the red marks
you see are
a few corrections where I indicated
you should change the verb tense,
check spelling, use an article,
preposition, or pronoun maybe
add an adjective,
or adverb here and there for interest
sake and imagery, even alter the sentence
structure for variety, remember that a
sentence does need a verb, a subject
is helpful, then if you would double
space so I can read your whatever
this is and perhaps add a title, your name
and date at the top, or anywhere
I might find it it would help me place
this work in time and space where it
belongs.”

marty rempel
retired teacher

Tim Hortons with no apostrophe

How A Grammatical Point Leads to Social Injustice

Sometimes little things bother me and they really shouldn’t because generally I am anything but a perfectionist.  I was in Tim Hortons about fifteen years ago, so this is a very timely tale, and when asked by the cashier, “ How can I serve you?”

I replied, “I would like an apostrophe”.

“Is that like a Tim-Bit?”

“No, not at all.  I simply want to know why on your signs, your cups and logo there is no apostrophe on the name Horton?

The conversation pretty well went dead from there; so I ordered my coffee and quietly left that establishment, but the question and this issue has never left me.  Why is there no apostrophe on the name Tim Hortons?  Is this not the store of Horton to which ownership is bestowed even though legally that may be held by a hedge fund in Brazil?

The world seemed, or was, totally indifferent to my line of inquiry, or perhaps people had never really thought of the missing punctuation mark from one of the greatest of Canadian icons.  I get it.

What do inquiring minds do when they need answers in a time sensitive manner?  They either go to Google, Wikipedia, some form of social media or Youtube for all of the real answers in life.

I found my answer on a eight minute Youtube video concerning labour issues with Tim Hortons.  To my horror I discovered that recently when Ontario was putting through its minimum wage laws bringing them up to about $15.00, it was Tim Hortons (no apostrophe) that fought this initiative. In fact relatives of the original hockey playing donut loving founder, and also mega rich themselves, pushed back on the wage law by having their employees sign waivers in which they would forgo paid breaks and other benefits in order to pay for their new found wage increases. Bottom line the employees in fact helped pay for their own raise.

You know when I discovered how an iconic multi- billion dollar business could be so cheap, entitled, low-handed and greedy I thought in my quest for  grammatical answers they did not deserve an apostrophe beside the name Horton!  It should stand alone forever naked and shamed.

But, I found the answer and it had to do with the nefarious French.  I could go two ways on this.  Either the French helped simplify things, or they are petty bastards like the owners who would take away wages from their own employees.  I’ll let you decide.

The ‘s is an English grammatical convention used to show ownership.  Apparently, the French use some other methodology to accomplish the same thing, possibly using twice the number of words with du, and des and the like.  I’m not exactly clear on the details.

Bottom line due to the Quebec French language sign laws there can be no English signage in La Belle Province. Therefore, the ‘s being an English convention has no place in Quebec on any commercial signs and certainly will not be seen gracing a Tim Hortons Franchise.  To make things cheap and efficient, because through research we now know Hortons will do anything to save a buck has dropped the ‘s on all signs in North America.

Next time you wonder where the apostrophe went at your local Tim Hortons also wonder if the people serving you had to sign away their benefits in order to get minimum wage and keep their jobs. What is an apostrophe actually worth these days?



Marty Rempel

Rhetorical questions concerning a murder mystery

Rhetorical Questions

I puzzled the baby blue Mercedes sedan
parked clandestinely in the garage on the alley side,
the severed corpse lying like trash on the dusty road side
caught my attention, as I strolled the lane.
Part of larger conspiracy
or, just paranoia?

The Dry Season (China)

Dry Season (China)

A calming walk along the river bank
exposed after weeks of no rain,
a long continuous row of willow trees
lines the length of the park,
roots seeking moisture from deep below,
scooters, bikes, walkers, old, young, families,
all walk the inlaid stones and view
the sluggish brown river below.
The constant fisherman, some on
flat bottomed bamboo rafts,
others stand motionless
along the receding shore,
it is the dry season now
and they spend the day in futile design.
Young couples hand in hand oblivious
to the world while
men in tense groups thrust worn bent
cards to a dirty wooden table,
two brown poodles play on the grass,
an old man crippled and bent walks
tightly with his wife every night,
small boys play with their bubble machines,
they eagerly run past my bench and stare
at my strange western face,
soon distracted they run along the path.
The evening cools, after a long hot day.
The gardener brings out his ancient turn table,
opera clear and pure transcends the willows.
The dancers will soon arrive.



m.r.

Public washrooms in China...

A Cautionary Tale

One of the funny things, or highly bizarre and unusual in a very disquieting sense, about China of course has to be the state of public washrooms, in the women's’ washrooms, at least those in which there might be western style toilets, one might see a little warning sign above the toilet that looks something like a no smoking sign, the difference is the warning sign shows a picture of a toilet with an image of a woman squatting on it, and over all of that exquisite imagery is a red circle with a thick red line through it indicating-do not squat on a western toilet.

Never the less women of the non-squatting persuasion will still find footprints on the toilet seat where Chinese women have ignored the warning and gone about their habitual squatting ways.  They find that having contact with a toilet seat is not hygienic. Leaving footprints on the seat for the next woman does show some sort of disdain for the greater good, womanhood in general and hygiene in particular.

Meanwhile in the mens’ washrooms, where few men wash, as there is rarely any soap, there are often pools of pee on the floor beneath the urinals.  Here the warning signs often ask men to step forward one more step (one small step for mankind...) with the supposed objective of increasing aim and accuracy for low pressure users and thereby avoiding spillage and the formation of urinary pools on public washroom floors.  In both cases, male or female, the washrooms come with a cautionary tale.

Picture tour of Chicago