Phobia

Before leaving the US for Korea, some people were very vocal in reminding us "that's not the good ol' USA over there.  Watch each other's back.  Keep your money in your underwear."  Apparently it is common international knowledge that anyone who is not white will rob anyone who is white.  Although I know we need to be careful and not flash our overly stuffed American wallets at the locals, I also know that I feel much safer in Yeongju, South Korea than I do in Greenville, South Carolina.  How's that for culture shock?  Jessica and I have felt quite at ease here.  Rarely do I worry if she walks by herself somewhere after dark, even if it involves some of the lesser lit city streets.  Even though many people stare, they don't often speak.  Nor have we ever been bothered.  People just go about their business.

However, I have developed one very legitimate fear.  Not of people.  Not of octopus.  Not even of the old ladies who brazenly cut in line at the grocery store.  (Note to future travelers in Korea: DO NOT question their line cutting practices unless you want to die.)  I'm afraid of the toilets.  Yes, the toilets.  Well not so much the toilet itself, but the act of using the toilets.  Why?  Again, we're not in the 'good ol' USA' anymore.  The majority of toilets here are of the squat version, meaning there's a hole in the ground.  Nothing to sit on.

For 3 months this paralyzing fear has kept me from using the facilities at school.  I have refused to do anything that involves more than a urinal.  That all changed for me last week.  I decided that I needed to overcome this fear.  I'm a grown man.  I'm taller than everyone else here.  Apparently my beard means I've got more testosterone than all the other men at school.  If they can do it, so can I.

Upon entering the stall with truck loads of determination, I stare at the hole for a few minutes, not exactly sure what to do.  My first though was that I can't afford for my pants to touch anything, or rather anything touch my pants.  I don't keep a spare in my desk.  So the pants come off.  As I hang them on the stall door, I begin to imagine everything that could go wrong in this situation.  The principal's office is right outside the bathroom. What if the toilet overflows?  What if I fall and can't reach my pants?  What if I'm so excited for overcoming my fear that I forget to put my pants back on after I'm done.  On top of all this, there's no heat in the bathroom.  No heat + no pants = cold.

I'll save you the details and simply say that I was successful.  I'm a brand new man.  The old ladies still scare me though.