On our very first night in Ecuador last February, in Quito at the Casa Sol, a sign in the bathroom initiated us into toilet tissue Ecuador-style. The sign put us on notice that Ecuadorian plumbing has a hard time with paper, so instead of flushing the TP, Casa Sol respectfully requests guests throw it into the wastebasket. 

Shirlee balked; she’s a bit of a germ freak. I tried to get into it. Even so, at first I wrapped it up in plastic bags we had with us. Soon enough, though, we ran out of plastic bags and I had to … make do.  

A few days later, I got my ultimate lesson in Ecuadorian wiping etiquette. In a porta-potty in a Quito plaza, I looked into the trash can and saw exactly how the TP was folded neatly over itself. Thus, I got the idea of what the end product should look like.  

Working it out took a little effort, but eventually, I devised a method of wrapping the paper around my middle, ring, and pinky fingers, leaving a few sheets hanging over my index finger, then folding the spare sheets around the wad and tossing. As I practiced, I not only got good at it, but I completely triumphed over any residual squeamishness. What a big boy. 

Also, I came to realize the effectiveness -- if not the elegance --of it. Since it goes into the trash instead of the toilet, you can use as much paper as you want without clogging up the drain pipes, sewers, or septic tanks. And since it takes about 10 minutes to disintegrate, a little bit o’ shit on paper in landfills won’t, probably, ever hurt anyone. And if it does, well, c’est la vie. 

All that said, Dave Morrill, seven-year Cuencano, tells me that there’s no hard-and-fast rule when it comes to flushing TP in the usual fashion and that all expats come to their own terms with it. He also mentions that contractors are using larger pipes in most of the new construction, making the issue moot for some folks. Fine with me. But I know three things.  

First, when in Maine, do like the Maniacs. Second, there’s no comparison between the initial, slightly distasteful, feeling of tossing TP in the trash and the loathsome sensation of a toilet that doesn’t flush -- or worse, overflows -- when it’s full of solid waste from your digestive processes, especially when you're in a hotel room and you have to call for a maintenance guy with a plunger. And third, hotel garbage cans are emptied every day, so it’s not like it sits there and festers forever.    

Ecuador is pretty well-known for throwing a party where it’s BYOW: bring your own wipe. In our admittedly limited use of public restrooms, out of nine that Shirlee and I have visited (separately), all told, four had no toilet tissue. Still, they were luxurious compared to the one Shirlee told me about without a toilet seat.