After a long coffee for lunch and an uplifting organ recital, it is time to find a WC in Warsaw. This morning we had discovered the free WC in one of the metro stations so we decided to return.
On entering the female section we are shooed out by the cleaner, assiduously and slowly wielding her large mop. Prepared to wait, but hoping it will not be too long, we are then directed to the male section by an attendant. “It is permitted” he assures us.
Permitted it may be, but the male users of the toilets aren’t it so sure. Although the urinals are on the far wall, and there is little chance of us observing what they are up to – let alone wanting to – we are accused of being disgusting or tranvestites. Some females manage to run the gauntlet, but I decide to retreat, not the least because a large Polish man seems to see me as the chief culprit.
A Japanese woman an I try the mothers’ room, where a woman is putting her baby to her breast, then the disabled toilet, which is locked.
Becoming a bit more desperate, we try the ladies again, but the cleaner, now closer to the door, shoos us away again. As some women emerge successfully from the men’s, I think about trying again, but the memory of the large Polish businessman, and the venom we encountered defeat me. Legs crossed, I wait until the cleaner locks her brooms and mops in the disabled toilet, wondering what those who really need it do, and the finally enter the ladies’ WC. Mission accomplished.