At the Risk of Being Crude: There Must Be Fifty Ways to Flush a Toilet: Trip Report from Rome, Florence and Pompeii.
Apr 22nd, 2008, 10:53 AM
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At the Risk of Being Crude: There Must Be Fifty Ways to Flush a Toilet: Trip Report from Rome, Florence and Pompeii.
Before anyone gets worried that this is the trial and tribulations of someone traveling through Italy who is �bladder challenged,� it�s really about the epiphany I had on our recent trip to Italy about their bathrooms � lots more on that later.
Having made our first trip to Italy in 2006 and fallen in love like the rest of you on this board, around my house, I�ve become the �counter.� There might be 272 days and 18 hours of Bush in the White House but there are 387 days and 5 hours until I get back to Italy.
I started counting for this trip last December when we decided to abandon our usual National Park spring break adventure and go to Europe just as the café tables and chairs were once again taken out of winter storage and set outside for people watching and a quick espresso. I added weather in Rome, Florence and Naples to my iPhone and in meetings would find myself surreptitiously checking it. I bought cool scarves I imagined myself wearing as I shopped for Zucchini Blossoms in Campo Di Fiori. I did my research using Fodor�s Rome 25 Best, Frommer�s Guide to Italy, Eyewitness Rome and Florence, watched a terrific but slightly overwrought documentary on Pompeii (Pompeii: The Last Day � you can buy it at www.discovery.com) and used the In Rome Now website: http://www.inromenow.com/ which has a lot of great information about the shops and events in Rome. Most importantly, I revved up my exercise regime and took 2 and 3 mile hikes every morning knowing I would have to walk off the Bolognese and Chianti Classico from the night before. Thank God for that.
Oh, and I started packing three weeks before our trip much to the amusement of my �throw it in the suitcase, sit on it and zip it� husband and son.
And my husband, bless his heart, since our last trip, did 90 minutes of Pimsleur�s Italian EVERY DAY for the last year and a half while he rode his recumbent bike. Sometimes it sounded like he was being tortured by the Mussolini regime, as I would hear a strained and panting �Dove il bagno� emanating from the other room. But it paid off.
Now to our trip � 9 days in Rome at The Inn at the Spanish Steps, two days in Florence at Hotel Santa Maria Novella and a day trip to Pompeii. The last time we were in Rome for only 4 days and just scratched the surface, no Scavi tour pun intended� Our dream is to eventually spend a month in a city and not feel quite so much like a tourist though happily a tourist I am for now.
My husband, daughter, son and I left LAX in late March on Air France. I had enough miles to bump us up to business class and although, as an Army brat and frequent traveler, I'm used to long lines and rubbing thighs with chatty dude next to me with peanut breath, there�s nothing like an international lounge, champagne, crackers from Fauchon and a mini-massage to kick off your trip. On board, we nestled into our L�Espace Premiere Barcaloungers, went into a Xanax haze and 11 hours, two movies and three meals later, we were in Paris on our way to Rome!
CDG AIR FRANCE INTERNATIONAL LOUNGE bathroom: Electric eye automatic flush and mouthwash at the sink�
NEXT: JUST WHERE IS THE SEAT, PETE? � Restaurant bathroom #1
And our first glorious day in Rome�.
Having made our first trip to Italy in 2006 and fallen in love like the rest of you on this board, around my house, I�ve become the �counter.� There might be 272 days and 18 hours of Bush in the White House but there are 387 days and 5 hours until I get back to Italy.
I started counting for this trip last December when we decided to abandon our usual National Park spring break adventure and go to Europe just as the café tables and chairs were once again taken out of winter storage and set outside for people watching and a quick espresso. I added weather in Rome, Florence and Naples to my iPhone and in meetings would find myself surreptitiously checking it. I bought cool scarves I imagined myself wearing as I shopped for Zucchini Blossoms in Campo Di Fiori. I did my research using Fodor�s Rome 25 Best, Frommer�s Guide to Italy, Eyewitness Rome and Florence, watched a terrific but slightly overwrought documentary on Pompeii (Pompeii: The Last Day � you can buy it at www.discovery.com) and used the In Rome Now website: http://www.inromenow.com/ which has a lot of great information about the shops and events in Rome. Most importantly, I revved up my exercise regime and took 2 and 3 mile hikes every morning knowing I would have to walk off the Bolognese and Chianti Classico from the night before. Thank God for that.
Oh, and I started packing three weeks before our trip much to the amusement of my �throw it in the suitcase, sit on it and zip it� husband and son.
And my husband, bless his heart, since our last trip, did 90 minutes of Pimsleur�s Italian EVERY DAY for the last year and a half while he rode his recumbent bike. Sometimes it sounded like he was being tortured by the Mussolini regime, as I would hear a strained and panting �Dove il bagno� emanating from the other room. But it paid off.
Now to our trip � 9 days in Rome at The Inn at the Spanish Steps, two days in Florence at Hotel Santa Maria Novella and a day trip to Pompeii. The last time we were in Rome for only 4 days and just scratched the surface, no Scavi tour pun intended� Our dream is to eventually spend a month in a city and not feel quite so much like a tourist though happily a tourist I am for now.
My husband, daughter, son and I left LAX in late March on Air France. I had enough miles to bump us up to business class and although, as an Army brat and frequent traveler, I'm used to long lines and rubbing thighs with chatty dude next to me with peanut breath, there�s nothing like an international lounge, champagne, crackers from Fauchon and a mini-massage to kick off your trip. On board, we nestled into our L�Espace Premiere Barcaloungers, went into a Xanax haze and 11 hours, two movies and three meals later, we were in Paris on our way to Rome!
CDG AIR FRANCE INTERNATIONAL LOUNGE bathroom: Electric eye automatic flush and mouthwash at the sink�
NEXT: JUST WHERE IS THE SEAT, PETE? � Restaurant bathroom #1
And our first glorious day in Rome�.
Apr 22nd, 2008, 12:10 PM
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Can't wait for more. When we took our daughter on her first trip to Europe --probably about 10 or so--the journal she kept included drawings of the flushing mechanisms of every different toilet she encountered.
Apr 22nd, 2008, 12:14 PM
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<<There Must Be Fifty Ways to Flush Toilet>>
Travel Rule 3: At a restaurant, the first person scouts the flusher location and reports back to the rest of the table.
Waiting of more . . .
Travel Rule 3: At a restaurant, the first person scouts the flusher location and reports back to the rest of the table.
Waiting of more . . .
Apr 22nd, 2008, 03:20 PM
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Loving your report already! We were also in Rome in March (my trip report is just finishing up here). I seriously considered calling my report the "bathrooms of the world" tour, so I think I get your meaning. ;-)
Apr 22nd, 2008, 04:14 PM
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Ah, to have a toilet that even thinks of flushing. On a trip by bus across Greece several years ago there were several rest stops with just holes in the floor. Looked like they had been there since Plato and Aristotle. The Roman Empire had a "heads up" on the glory that was Greece.
Apr 22nd, 2008, 05:03 PM
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Thanks for the feedback! FLJudi – we had that experience at a Paris flea market but surprisingly of the toilet variations in Rome, that was one we missed…
We landed in Rome late afternoon after flying over the amazing Italian Alps. As a really nice courtesy, the Inn at the Spanish Steps picks you up, gratis, from the airport. Though dopey and a little weary, our excitement built as we headed into Rome. It hits you that you’re in a foreign city, first from the road signs and then slowly, pieces of old aqueducts began emerging in the landscape and before you know it, BAM!l like you’re Paris Hilton on the way to a club pursued by paparazzi, your car is swarmed by every scooter imaginable – men in business suits, women in high heels, students, all occupying every nook and cranny around your car and going in directions that defy traffic patterns and laws for that matter.
Our hotel was located on Via Condotti just yards from the Spanish Steps – it’s not too big and all in all, we loved staying there. The staff couldn’t have been more terrific. Apparently there is some unwritten Spanish Step rule that everyone who worked there must have a name that begins with the letter “F”. There was Francesca, Franco, Flavio and Fabio. They endured my frequent e-mails: Do you have irons? No, fire hazard rules – I did bring one and never used it even once… Can you help us with bookings, restaurant and otherwise? Yes, and all of their recommendations were wonderful and we never felt like they sent us to a tourist trap. And more than that, they went out of their way for us. Since we were there for 10 days, they felt comfortable enough to tell my husband that when he thought he was saying “Can you show me that on the map?” in Italian, he was actually saying “Can you show me that on the plant?” When we went to a friend’s house for dinner and asked them for the closest wine shop, they gave us champagne to take to them.
The thing about inns and as a lot of you might know by staying in apartments, there is really no uniformity in the rooms. I would stay there again in a heartbeat but I would scout out the rooms and find the ones that more suited our needs – we changed from two rooms to one midway through because my daughter left and the second room was more spacious.
We unpacked, freshened up, I put on my first scarf, tied Parisian style and we were ready to roll. Our first meal in Rome was a recommendation from a friend who lives there. Santo Padre (Via Collina 18 tel.: 06-475-5405.)
A little off the beaten path, but well worth it. We were the only non-Italians in there - it was casual but really warm and friendly and one of the owners must own race horses; there were jockey colors and racetrack pictures everywhere. Just before we arrived, our table was set with fresh proscuitto, olives, sun-dried tomatoes, some sort of sliced spicy turkey, and grilled zucchini. And as soon as we sat down, they brought out hot meatballs with Parmesan, ricotta cheese, mozzarella di Bufala and salami. All before we ordered!
We each had a great pasta and some tasty house wine and soon, I needed to excuse myself to the “Piccola signora’s” room. For as many artifacts that are dug up in Rome every minute, it seems like most of the bathrooms are in the basement. God knows what ancient storefront or bedroom was sacrificed for our convenience. And here was the beginning of my observations of the varieties of Italian toilets and surroundings. At the hotel, it was the two-panel on the back on the wall flush – not sure was the difference was – maybe water pressure. Here at Santo Padre, it was a wall flush but just where, oh where was the toilet seat? Hmmmm. Modesty dictates that I spare you the details as we all choose to deal with the no-toilet seat bathrooms in our own fashion, but this was now the second and wildly different commode that I had encountered. And my toilet travels had just begun. This is when I started to take notes. Finally we let the jet lag hit us as we headed back to our hotel at 11 PM to tuck ourselves in for the sleep of the dead.
4 AM – wide awake. So as not to wake my husband, I sat on our Inn bathrobes wedged between the sink and bidet, reading. It was hard to believe I was so tired just a few hours ago. Oh well – I read until 6 AM, showered, got dressed and went downstairs in search of the breakfast buffet ready to start my day. Let my family sleep away the first morning; I was up and alert. I asked a nice gentleman behind the desk where the food was in my best bad Italian and he told me breakfast wasn’t being served until 6 AM. Thinking it was a language thing, I asked again in English. Again – 6 AM. And then I said, “but it IS 6 AM. He politely said, “Madam, it is 3AM.” Argh! Somehow when I set our alarm, I changed the time by three hours and had only been asleep for an hour. Feeling like Scarlett Johansson in “Lost in Translation,” I wearily trudged back upstairs and read some more. Got redressed at 6, and wandered outside. It was a brisk dawn in Rome and I walked to the top of the Spanish Steps with not one single other soul in sight (a rarity at the Steps) and watched as the sun came up over the city. All was right with the world.
And then I went back to bed and slept until 11…
NEXT: PULL ON THE STRING, BING – Restaurant bathroom #2
And Pizza breakfast, our late night tour of the Sistine Chapel and our first limoncello of many…
We landed in Rome late afternoon after flying over the amazing Italian Alps. As a really nice courtesy, the Inn at the Spanish Steps picks you up, gratis, from the airport. Though dopey and a little weary, our excitement built as we headed into Rome. It hits you that you’re in a foreign city, first from the road signs and then slowly, pieces of old aqueducts began emerging in the landscape and before you know it, BAM!l like you’re Paris Hilton on the way to a club pursued by paparazzi, your car is swarmed by every scooter imaginable – men in business suits, women in high heels, students, all occupying every nook and cranny around your car and going in directions that defy traffic patterns and laws for that matter.
Our hotel was located on Via Condotti just yards from the Spanish Steps – it’s not too big and all in all, we loved staying there. The staff couldn’t have been more terrific. Apparently there is some unwritten Spanish Step rule that everyone who worked there must have a name that begins with the letter “F”. There was Francesca, Franco, Flavio and Fabio. They endured my frequent e-mails: Do you have irons? No, fire hazard rules – I did bring one and never used it even once… Can you help us with bookings, restaurant and otherwise? Yes, and all of their recommendations were wonderful and we never felt like they sent us to a tourist trap. And more than that, they went out of their way for us. Since we were there for 10 days, they felt comfortable enough to tell my husband that when he thought he was saying “Can you show me that on the map?” in Italian, he was actually saying “Can you show me that on the plant?” When we went to a friend’s house for dinner and asked them for the closest wine shop, they gave us champagne to take to them.
The thing about inns and as a lot of you might know by staying in apartments, there is really no uniformity in the rooms. I would stay there again in a heartbeat but I would scout out the rooms and find the ones that more suited our needs – we changed from two rooms to one midway through because my daughter left and the second room was more spacious.
We unpacked, freshened up, I put on my first scarf, tied Parisian style and we were ready to roll. Our first meal in Rome was a recommendation from a friend who lives there. Santo Padre (Via Collina 18 tel.: 06-475-5405.)
A little off the beaten path, but well worth it. We were the only non-Italians in there - it was casual but really warm and friendly and one of the owners must own race horses; there were jockey colors and racetrack pictures everywhere. Just before we arrived, our table was set with fresh proscuitto, olives, sun-dried tomatoes, some sort of sliced spicy turkey, and grilled zucchini. And as soon as we sat down, they brought out hot meatballs with Parmesan, ricotta cheese, mozzarella di Bufala and salami. All before we ordered!
We each had a great pasta and some tasty house wine and soon, I needed to excuse myself to the “Piccola signora’s” room. For as many artifacts that are dug up in Rome every minute, it seems like most of the bathrooms are in the basement. God knows what ancient storefront or bedroom was sacrificed for our convenience. And here was the beginning of my observations of the varieties of Italian toilets and surroundings. At the hotel, it was the two-panel on the back on the wall flush – not sure was the difference was – maybe water pressure. Here at Santo Padre, it was a wall flush but just where, oh where was the toilet seat? Hmmmm. Modesty dictates that I spare you the details as we all choose to deal with the no-toilet seat bathrooms in our own fashion, but this was now the second and wildly different commode that I had encountered. And my toilet travels had just begun. This is when I started to take notes. Finally we let the jet lag hit us as we headed back to our hotel at 11 PM to tuck ourselves in for the sleep of the dead.
4 AM – wide awake. So as not to wake my husband, I sat on our Inn bathrobes wedged between the sink and bidet, reading. It was hard to believe I was so tired just a few hours ago. Oh well – I read until 6 AM, showered, got dressed and went downstairs in search of the breakfast buffet ready to start my day. Let my family sleep away the first morning; I was up and alert. I asked a nice gentleman behind the desk where the food was in my best bad Italian and he told me breakfast wasn’t being served until 6 AM. Thinking it was a language thing, I asked again in English. Again – 6 AM. And then I said, “but it IS 6 AM. He politely said, “Madam, it is 3AM.” Argh! Somehow when I set our alarm, I changed the time by three hours and had only been asleep for an hour. Feeling like Scarlett Johansson in “Lost in Translation,” I wearily trudged back upstairs and read some more. Got redressed at 6, and wandered outside. It was a brisk dawn in Rome and I walked to the top of the Spanish Steps with not one single other soul in sight (a rarity at the Steps) and watched as the sun came up over the city. All was right with the world.
And then I went back to bed and slept until 11…
NEXT: PULL ON THE STRING, BING – Restaurant bathroom #2
And Pizza breakfast, our late night tour of the Sistine Chapel and our first limoncello of many…
Apr 22nd, 2008, 05:40 PM
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italy06,
Thanks so much for putting up your report - it was only when put mine up last year that I realized how much work goes into it!
Love you title - it seems that every country in Europe has a different way to flush a toilet...I too was a bit shocked with the lack of toilet seats, but really, it just sort of adds to the fun of the trip doesn't it?
Awaiting more soon!
Thanks so much for putting up your report - it was only when put mine up last year that I realized how much work goes into it!
Love you title - it seems that every country in Europe has a different way to flush a toilet...I too was a bit shocked with the lack of toilet seats, but really, it just sort of adds to the fun of the trip doesn't it?
Awaiting more soon!
Deborah
Apr 22nd, 2008, 06:31 PM
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i have read on the bathroom floor myself when jetlagged! It amazes me that my son, daughter, and husband have no problem sleeping -- anywhere or any time!
I love your report so far!
How old are your kids? (sorry if I missed that!)
I love your report so far!
How old are your kids? (sorry if I missed that!)
Well done. Looking forward to more.
Apr 22nd, 2008, 07:42 PM
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In toilets accessible to the public in smaller venues in Italy, there is often no toilet seat. An friend in Italy told me that it is often considered more sanitary since with no seat the toilet is easier to keep clean and also because no one would be expected to actually sit anyway.
