Pic courtesy of Think Remote
by Ravindran Raman Kutty
As a Malaysian of Indian origin with a proud track record of clocking Malaysia Airlines miles — and “clocking in business” in various global destinations — I humbly present to you the harrowing saga of a man and his desperate quest for toilet water.
Not just any water — the kind that fulfils the spiritual, emotional, and, let’s be frank, the hygienic needs of every person who grew up in a country where the bathroom floor is so wet you’d think it just witnessed a minor flood.
Why Water Is King (And Tissue, the Reluctant Squire)
To those who rely solely on tissue, let me say: I salute your courage. But as any Malaysian will confirm, water after “big business” is not just preference — it’s a tradition, and, at this point, muscle memory.
In Malaysia, the sight of a trusty bidet hose (a.k.a. the “bum gun”) or a plastic dipper brings more comfort than a five-star hotel bathrobe. Walk into any Malaysian toilet, and you’ll know you’re home just by the squish under your slippers.
Tissue? Please. It’s about as useful as bringing a leaf blower to a durian stall. I tried once. Let’s just say, never again.
The Toilet Culture Shock: The Carpeted Confessional
The real horror begins abroad. In Europe or Australia, I march confidently into the bathroom, only to be confronted by a sad, lonely roll of tissue and, if I’m lucky, a bottle of hand sanitizer.
Where are the hoses? The tap? Why is the floor… dry? And why, oh merciless fates, is there carpeting next to the toilet? As any well-washed Malaysian knows, carpet is to water what a cat is to a bath—guaranteed disaster if combined.
When I shared my distress with my ever-practical children, the chorus of solutions rang out: “Bring a dipper, Acha!”
But can you imagine, in a ritzy London apartment, marching in with a bright blue dipper and emerging with a waterlogged Persian carpet? It’s a passport to lifetime embarrassment and a hefty cleaning bill.
Bidet Big Dreams, Homeowner Nightmares
What about installing a bidet, you ask? Dream on. In London, you can’t even hang a picture without scaffolding, three inspectors, and an official blessing from the Queen’s now-retired handyman. Plumber? The landlord barely lets me open a window.
And winter? The thought of an icy British January with uninsulated pipes and that first splash of frostbite —well, suddenly, tissue begins to look more tempting (but only just).
The Mobile Bidet Fiasco
Desperate, inventive Malaysians (a.k.a. my wife) suggested a portable bidet. Brilliant — except it needs to be charged, certain airlines frown at “suspicious water-squirting devices,” and, of course, the one shop assistant hints, “A bucket may be easier, lah.”
Doomed to wander with my gadget, hunting the next USB plug next to the “WC” sign, I feel like a bathroom MacGyver ( for those who know the TV series).
The Malaysian Traveler’s Lament
Am I alone in my struggle? Trust me, I am not.
Every Malaysian abroad has braved the public restroom gauntlet: the furtive bottle fill-ups at public sinks, the hidden portable bidet, the panicked waddle back to the hotel with everything tightly clenched.
The uneasiness after the business, as the satisfaction is lowest with the water touching the bum!
Yet, water persists. It’s in our hearts, our habits, our hotel review complaints: “Lovely room, room service great, but how can you not have a bidet for big business?”
The Water Will Win
No matter the continent or climate, the yearning for a good wash runs deep.
One day soon, perhaps ingenious Malaysians will convert public opinion and install a bidet in every Airbnb, every new apartment.
Until then, keep your water bottle close, your tissue even closer, and your stories ready for the next MAS lounge gathering.
Remember: you are not alone — just a little wetter than everyone else.
(The views expressed here are entirely those of the writer)
WE