The real cost of travel: Poo bins

Here lies the first in a potentially long line of the “true cost of travel” series posts.

Before you break out in a sighing fit and indulge in thoughts of “Not another one…”. This post is not about the financial cost which is delightfully available in approximately 10 billion locations around the internet, it is about the mental anguish and physical yuck which comes from a number of things you more than likely wouldn’t think about until you are on the road and they present themselves to you.

Like poo bins…

We in the West, North, South and East, or at least the more developed parts of these locations, take for granted the fact that once we have cleaned our recently soiled derrieres, we have the option to dispose of the now soiled once crisp, white perfume scented paper parcels in a manner which truly leaves our baser human requirements hidden behind that one door no one ever talks about, except in a slightly whispered request for “the restroom please?” (and although I don’t deny the post ablution phase’s calming effects, I do call into question the restfulness of what actually occurs behind those closed doors).

In a number of less developed parts of the world, in those “exotic” locations travelers pride themselves on seeking out and exploiting for their serenity. Plumbing is still stuck in the dark ages, and the poo bin is as ubiquitous as the rough surfaced sand paper which passes for toilet paper in the dark, dingy, mosquito infested public poop areas.

Even in most upmarket places in these countries, poo bins sit quietly and unassuming alongside the bum shaped receptacles they are always partnered with, waiting to either be opened with a shaky and hesitant touch, or fully exposed to the elements in all their colored grandeur.

Poo bins

Hey there little fella…

Often these bins are overflowing with bounty as no one wants to be responsible for their disposal, or because no one can be bothered to dispose of them, and never do they have an agreeable method of opening or closing, when it seems such a simple solution to have a fully functioning foot lever system as the method of operation, around 53% of poo bins require touching of some form, with another 41% having the aforementioned open air system which although effective, is less than sightly disagreeable to the oculation required when emptying ones bladder.

So if you are soon to venture out into the world, if you are shortly to strap on a backpack and explore mystical lands with bristling cultures, prepare yourself for the ubiquitous presence of the unassuming waste receptacle, and the real cost of travel that is, the poo bin.

Disclaimer: Although I claim this to be an ongoing series, I have done so before and then become less than enthralled by the prospect of following through, so this may well and truly be the only entry in what might be an ongoing series. Time will tell.


For more stuff, and probably less strange stuff, you should subscribe here for updates…

0 thoughts on “The real cost of travel: Poo bins”

  1. Omgzzzzzzz…. The poo bins. Turd trash. Soooo traumatic and shocking.
    Hahahaha I remember my stupid comments in MX when I first learned about them… I think i said “gross” or something equally profound.

  2. As I read this I had an avalanche of poo bin flashbacks, which then turned into a collage of long drop dunny visuals. Hmmm might skip breakfast today. Kellie, the word “ladies” should be removed from all restrooms with poo bins. It is definitely false advertising. Can’t wait for the next one Ty!

  3. I love that you used the term ‘following through’ in your disclaimer.

    Poo smearing. There I said the dirty words. In many cases poo bins and poo smearing seem to go hand in hand. Who decides it’s a good idea to smear their brown stuff on the walls. Is it a dirty protest against using poo bins? ANSWER ME DAMN YOU!!

  4. At first, I thought this was going to be a really disgusting post. BUT, I agree with Sarah, the comments are hilarious. It’s funny that everyone says EWWWW but always feels the need to comment. I thought I was traumatised when I walked into a washroom in Europe and had to place my feet in a certain position, then squat and aim at the hole in the ground. But, if I had to walk into the ladies bathroom and find a poo bucket, I think I would hold it in and then run and find the nearest bush. THERE, I SAID IT!

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *