Y’all, I’m having a first world problem.
My family has been reduced to using single ply toilet paper.
I know. It’s a pity. When news of empty household paper product shelves at all the grocery stores started filling my Facebook feed, my husband and I looked at each other and asked, “do they know something we don’t?”
Obviously they did. Still, no one in my household rushed to the store. We felt secure in the knowledge we’d recently bought multipacks of both paper towels and toilet tissue. Assumed (incorrectly) this panic buying would straighten itself out in a couple days. Believed with our whole hearts that these people who were buying up all the toilet paper would eventually run out of resources. Either their storage space would dry up, or their disposable income.
¡Que lastima! We were wrong!
Toilet Paper with an International Flair
Anyone else trying Vogue papel higiénico?
Thanks to our local HEB, we snagged this imported, single ply reminder of trips to Mexico and Central America.
Yep. This ¡El Súper Gigante! package of four rolls is our big payoff for persistently dashing through the paper aisle while wearing homemade face masks and fogging up eyeglasses. Doing our best to gauge just how far six feet away is from other people, while dodging those whose estimations were far worse than ours, we scooped up these manzanilla scented, 600 hojas.
The label is entirely in Spanish. Manzanilla means apple and apple scented sheets of toilet tissue are more intense than you might imagine. No doubt to balance out the inadequacies of the plumbing south of the border.
Memories of a Third World Country
This all reminds me of a time, ages ago, that I traveled to Central America with my sister-in-law.
That’s us on the airplane. Wearing our matching white hats. She’s the pink one. My brother is there too, but you can’t see him.
We spent a heady weekend shopping and shopping the colorful marketplaces for trinkets and apparel. My brother patiently followed us around carrying things and doling out money. While in Guatemala City’s fabulous, folk art laden trove of a mercado, we answered the call of the wild.
Strangers in a strange land, we did not know you pay to use restrooms in such places.
As lively and playful as indigenous Central American products can be, the daily life of the people has always been simple and ingenuity abounds. The original use of the marketplace where we shopped had been a parking garage. A solid concrete structure whose floors sloped at a angle ill suited for trying on clothes, especially if you needed to pull something over your head. Although fine for choosing hand painted knick-knacks, crosses with bright rural scenes and handbags of all sorts. That is, if you don’t mind a dimly lit atmosphere.
Restroom Etiquette Varies
The ladies room was tucked inconveniently in the darkest byway of the mercado. My tall, handsome brother (I’m using adjectives I usually wouldn’t in case my mother reads this blog post – heehee) valiantly stood watch over our new purchases as my SIL and I cautiously made our way in to use the facilities.
A woman in traditional and brilliant Guatemalan garb greeted us inside the open doorway. She handed us each 3 small squares of toilet paper that could have been Vogue, by smell and texture. We thanked her. This woman, short in stature yet full in voice, escorted us past other local women and their children to the potty stalls. She talked passionately. We assumed about our stay in the city. Louder and louder she spoke as we finished up and headed to the sinks to wash up.
It was then my brother stepped into the ladies room.
A hush fell over the concrete box of a space. Even the babies quieted at the sight of a towering blonde man entering this cramped and unlikely gathering spot.
In broken, tourist Spanish, my brother gave the impression that he was apologizing to this woman. My SIL and I, as we still huddled together in solidarity, watched as he gave the ringleader of this circus some money.
Two Important Takeaways
Thank you for reading this far.
One. When facing a pandemic or a trip to a third world country, plan ahead. Apparently both require showing up with your own supply of household paper products.
Number two. Love thy neighbor (and family). We’re all grappling with unknowns, uncertainties and whatever. Be magnanimous. Listen. Show empathy for those around you. For example, if next pandemic you feel the need to run out and buy all the good toilet paper, leaving your neighbors with third world rubbish, call and see if you can grab some for me too, please. And thank you.
Stay well, my friends!
