I was going to write but then somehow staying in bed all day did not inspire me (!!!). I got out of bed at around three and decided to bake a vegan chocolate cake for the potluck tomorrow. I am also going to make coconut rice and vegan curry. It shall be grrrrreat. So after playing with flour, cocoa powder and the sorts for a bit, and producing eight adorable, adorable, puffy chocolate cakes, my creative juices are flowing again and I want to write something. 

I really want to talk about a bathroom. The idea came to me last night before I went to bed. I have this habit of washing my feet before I get into bed. Most days I just lift my leg high up into the sink and wash one foot at a time (yea I know it’s gross. I bet you do gross things, too, so don’t judge), but some days when I feel like my feet are particularly dirty, I’d step into the bathtub, turn on the water, lift up my PJ to my knees and do this stepping motion in the running water. I did that last night and it reminded me of the time when I did that in PoPo’s old house in Taiwan and the horrible small and dark bathroom we shared between twelve people. 

For the first six years of my life, I lived in the city. I don’t remember anything of the city but I remember how horrified I was when I moved to PoPo’s house in the country. Most things were bearable. The one room with four beds and ten people to share, the peeing in a red plastic pot at night because the bedroom door was locked by PoPo (I still don’t know what this accomplishes… maybe PoPo was a bit of a control freak?), the dirty floor,  the overwhelming numbers of cousins running around, and my cursing, garlic chewing grandpa… these things were all bearable. But the bathroom. My heart gets a little weak thinking about it.

First of all, to get to the bathroom, we had to walk out the bedroom into a dark space of cold cement floor where there were a fridge and a sink. There was a fluorescent light bulb but to turn it on, you have to pull on the string by it, which of course was way higher than I could reach. This alone made going to the bathroom a petrifying experience, NOT because I was afraid of the dark but because I knew there were cockroaches scampering around the cement floor. I made my way to the bathroom in sweeping motions so that I’d only be kicking the cockroaches if our paths shall meet and not crushing them under my feet feeling the green gunk of their bodies squeeze out… *shiver*

The bathroom was just as dark if not darker and the possibility of scampering cockroaches in there was just as high if not higher, but at least I could reach the string for the feeble light bulb. When the dim, and almost perverse yellow light was on, I almost wished to turn it off again. The entire bathroom was covered in palm size, brown-reddish tiles with thick black lines separating them. I didn’t know if the lines were black in nature or… I didn’t want to think about it. The toilet was toilet-seat-less, which made it look dwarfish. There were black cracks glowing a yellowish tint around them inside the toilet, making them look like the wrinkles around a witch’s shriveled lips. The rim was unpleasantly cold but my hamstrings were weak, making it impossible for me to hover above the toilet… So the cold lips kissed my little ass, it was just a small peck but it felt like the kiss of death every time.

Two feet beside this demonic toilet was a big, round, metal tub, only it was not really a tub, more like a huge basin. I think it was the cleanest and least threatening object in that bathroom. The pale, washed up inside of the basin gave it an almost reassuring quality and water seemed less dirty in it. This basin was about the size of a very small blow-up kid pool but my entire family had to bath in it. It was easier for me. I could even sit in it with Sabrina and Anthony. Mom would sit by the basin on a small, faded stool, scooping water with a plastic cup and pour it on us.  

But bathing in that washroom did not feel like a cleansing process. It was frightening. My naked body was in full flight or fight mode. My shoulders lifted up almost to my ears and every hair on my bare back stood up. A spider would stare at me from one of the dark tiles and I’d stare back at it, not as a brave staring contest but to make sure I knew where it was. 

When I was done showering, I hesitated to step on the tiles. They looked so dirty, it was like walking bare feet in the public washroom and you know there is piss and spit and possibly shit on the ground. So I tip toed quickly outside the washroom and ran through the cold cement floor, not giving a fuck about the cockroaches anymore. 

I’d have to visit the bathroom once again before the day was over. Remember the washing the feet habit? It was enforced strictly by my PoPo. We were not allowed to get into bed without washing our feet. This was reasonable because we wore slippers all day in Taiwan and the floor was dirty even inside the house. This was also unreasonable because the bathroom scared me shitless… 

When I made it back to the bathroom again, I’d step into the cold basin. There was left over water in there from the last person who showered. I’d do my stepping motion in the water and occasionally take one foot over another and rub them against each other. The round bottom of the basin rocked with my stepping motion.  

Oh, I didn’t tell you about burning wood in a huge silver tube to make hot water before I could take a shower. But I think this is enough for now.

I am very lazy and sometimes (most of the times), I go to bed without washing my makeup off, leaving mascara on to make me a panda the next morning, or brushing my teeth, but I never go to bed without washing my feet first. PoPo has done a great job raising me(?)