I Love a Bidet
When I first traveled to France when I was seventeen and saw a bidet, I was frightened.
"How does it work? What is it for? Wait, you're supposed to sit on that and spray water at your butt? Is it optional? Wait, you want to watch me while I do it?"
Those were my initial questions to Mike from Toronto, my bunkmate at the hostel near La Bastille where we were staying.
Now I don't know why I waited so long.
And I realized it's not a French custom for your Canadian bunkmate to watch you use it. You are allowed to just use it by yourself, if you feel like it.
Now I think the bidet is fantastic.
It now seems barbaric to use toilet paper.
I mean, please. You want to just use rough, dried pieces of wood pulp on your bottom?
No, thank you. I'd rather powerwash down there.
Water is so much better. And Mike from Toronto agrees. He still sends me postcards some times.
Ah Mike, good times.