China was a bit weird, and the Chinese like to stare.
A lot.
They don’t seem to recognise that it’s rude and will unflinchingly stare at you in restaurants, bus stations, even when your taking a shit.
The reason I notice them staring when I’m pooing (which is quite often) is because there are no doors, or indeed walls, or anything resembling a cubicle whatsoever in many Chinese toilets. Roadside toilets in particular consist of a trough in the ground by the road with a series of planks across them to put your feet on. Nothing else.
On two occasions now a passing Chinese person has decided that the I represent a great opportunity to practise his English despite the fact I’m squatting down with my nads hanging out trying to squeeze one off;
“Herro”
“I’m shitting”
“How are you?”
“You can see I’m taking a shit right?”
“Where you from?”
“Look, just fuck off!”
{post script}
Talking of shitting (i can’t help myself), today i fell foul to what commentators of that uniquely Asian sport Extreme Eating call “The Follow Through”. That’s what you get for eating donkey meat noodles for breakfast followed by a Yak burger for lunch I guess.
Should’ve known better than to tackle three steps at once on the way to the Poltala Palace.