Welcome to Argentina
When I arrived at our base in Argentina, Kelsey came running up to me and said “you’re gonna hate the toilets, they don’t have seats.” The first thought that went through my head was “I can do this… I can do this… I can just hover – and hey, maybe I’ll get an extra leg workout all month!” BUT… then I found out Kelsey and me would stay in our own cabin, with our own bathroom! There was a glimmer of hope.
I walked down the dirt path to our cabin. It was sufficient – exactly what you’d expect from a cabin. As I opened the door to the bathroom, glory be to God, there was a toilet seat on the bowl! How could I be so blessed? There it was, inviting me to give it a whirl (see what I did there). As I observed the scene a little closer I noticed a trash bin accompanying the toilet for… you guessed it, used toilet paper. We were adamantly told NOT to flush the toilet paper. Argentina has zero tolerance for that kind of Tom Foolery. And, If you accidentally drop some into the bowl, guess what, you’re going fishing.
Also on the bathroom floor was a peculiar bowl. I quickly found out its pertinence to the room after my first use of the toilet. After every flush, it was your job to fill the aluminum bowl with water and dump it into the tank so that the toilet has enough water to refill. It took about 8 bowls of water to refill the tank, unless you wanted to wait 30 minutes for the trickle to fill it up for you. After all was said and done, I was still thankful. Things could be a lot worse, but this was possible for me to adapt to.
Pray for Argentina’s Septic System
By the time I made my way into the city of Mendoza, I was pretty comfortable with the no flushing ‘TP’ rule. The city wasn’t large, but it was enjoyable. Decently clean and lots of places to eat. Kelsey and I sat down at a café called Bonafide to have a drink. Nearing the end of our time there, I had to use the bathroom. Up the stairs I went, and when I opened the door, staring me in the face was the epitome of disobedience. Someone had went against strict orders and dropped TP into the toilet and was too good to do anything about it. Not only did this rebel leave it there, but he left a bonafide skid mark face up in defiance of the zero tolerance policy. Disgusting.
We made our way to Starbucks for some WiFi. Surely, this establishment had it’s act together. This is a global company that makes extreme amounts of money. When it was time to use their bathroom, I expected no issues. As I walked into the stall, there was a finless brown trout wading in the water for God knows how long. At the very least, it wasn’t TP, but c’mon, we’re adults here, flush the toilet. Feeling like a babysitter, I flushed the toilet for the last person that was in there. Wouldn’t you know, that turd would not go down. No matter how many times I flushed, it made no difference.
My conclusion to my month in Argentina is that this country needs serious prayer for their septic system. Be thankful, you Americans, that enjoy the luxuries of plumbing that can flush the likes of a dead goldfish or even a wad of hair, because every country isn’t so blessed. My journey continues ever so rapidly, so please join me for more tales of the toilets as I enter Bolivia.
Bonus Content:
Remember how I said we aren’t allowed to flush toilet paper? Yup, that’s right, someone at the base decided they were too good to be a fisherman and flushed anyway. Thanks to them, the septic system got messed up and caused a lot of problems for those of us living there. There was however one fisherman, who will remain nameless, that clogged a toilet, but not with toilet paper. To remedy this dilemma, they reached in and scooped out the culprit and flung it outside of their living quarters WHERE PEOPLE WALK! I applaud this person’s determination, but my friends, that’s just pure toxic waste exposed to everyone. I guess that’s community living.
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