Little Lavatorical Luxuries

(Okay, maybe I made that word up, but only for the oh-so-worthy cause of alliteration!)

But anyway, it really is kind of true that it’s the little things in life that end up making a huge difference…

Now, I knew when I came to Greece I would find a lot of marble (they are the producer of like 10% of the world’s marble, after all—as a friend kindly informed me before I got here, wanting me to be armed with the most useful of facts J).  However, I didn’t think I’d find so much granite so soon—or rather (and really, more precisely), I didn’t think I would so quickly find so much that I took for granted.

Okay, cheesy word play aside, there really are some serious and humble lessons from which we (or at least I) can learn and remember to be thankful in.  The way I see it (or have seen it these past few days), these lessons come wrapped and poured out in little luxuries I never really saw as luxuries before. 

First: FLUSHING

Now wait—stay with me here.  Don’t think this blog is going down the tubes or anything; just hear me out.

In Greece, and in many other places around the world and even in history and on boats (as some of you might already know), you really aren’t supposed to flush toilet paper.  It’s just the way it is.  There’s a trashcan in which you are to deposit it and it’s really not that big of an issue.  Just a matter of tweaking a habit you’ve had for two decades.  A minor inconvenience. 

Disclaimer: I fully realize that this is not even close to an inconvenience or near the size of obstacles many other people around the world face when it comes to a human function so necessary and seemingly simple.  I’m really not trying to blow it out of proportion or complain or claim to be inconvenienced/put out.  The fact that flushing toilet paper seems now like a luxury means I’ve grown up living a really fortunate life and may need to rethink some things just a bit.  It’s another humbling example of how I need to look beyond just me.  For too long I’ve taken for granted little things—these little luxuries that seem silly when you think about them, but here we are…

Anyway, let’s move on to number two (well there’s no helping that terrible and pun-ishing unfortunate arrangement of words…)

Second, we have: SHOWERING/HAVING A FAUCET/HAVING AN ABUNDANCE OF READILY AVAILABLE (AND HOT) WATER/ETC.

Join me now, will you, as we relive my morning.

Wake up about 8, shake off the jetlag, debate whether to get out and run, try to convince yourself there’s not enough time and you’d be better off catching a few more zzzz’s, realize yourself is lying to you (or you are lying to yourself???), change into running clothes and shoes, and hit the pavement.

4 miles later you are about half an hour away from needing to be ready and presentable to meet some of the people you will be working for/with at this new school and also spend the day with 12 other people  you’re still getting to know (and in relatively close proximity).  You walk up the stairs , brush out your curly, down-to-your-shoulder hair (if you don’t happen to have the good fortune of having this type of hair, just take my word that when you brush it out it’s really not so pretty and the only thing that can save it is a good dousing of water and some curl care conditioner…), and head toward the shower. 

It’s a new shower to try to get used to already, as in it has a handheld shower head and isn’t affixed to the wall so you have to work and move more to make sure you get clean (another silly little luxury I never thought about before now—and, I realize again, not near as bad as it can get).  But today when you turn the handle of the faucet, ready to take a quick shower and get ready to go, there is only a trickle.  Your stomach sinks just a little but you tell yourself not to panic.  Six girls have showered already, maybe one is as you speak, maybe it just takes a while.  So you wait—wait for the trickle to make some major gains in pressure and level and temperature. 

But it doesn’t. 

Instead, the opposite happens as it peters out into a stream of nothingness that still somehow manages to steal all your calm.  Try to rein some of that calm back in and check with your housemates about the state of the water.  Learn the lack of water is house-wide and that you aren’t the only one left stranded in your towel.  Flip through your options: (1) run down the street to the other on-campus residence and hope they have water and that you have enough time, or (2) use the residual water in the water bottles of two of your helpful and wonderful roommates, as well as your own, and try to make it work.  Concerned about the lack of time, I opted for option two.

Needless to say, I thought very carefully about my shower routine this morning.  Every drop was very deliberately poured in order to be the most effective.  The name of the game: conserve water to the max. 

It ended up working out fine.  I was ready to go in time and nobody had to see my tangled mane (and I didn’t smell too bad either—I mean, nobody said anything so I assumed I was successful in my conservation/cleanliness endeavor).  If nothing else, I learned a valuable lesson about the tremendous value of water and the importance of conversation.  And it makes for an okay story, too.

Hopefully the next time I’m tempted to take a fifteen minute shower, I’ll remember this incident—and that there are so many people for whom this “inconvenience” is an everyday reality or who may not even have access to (clean) water at all.

So another little luxury I’ve taken for granted.  Another humbling eye-opener.  Another gentle nudge to look beyond myself and tweak my thinking.  Another adventure in Greece…

(also: window screens—but that’s another story….. J)