How to Flush a French Toilet

How to flush a French Toilet
(Comment tirer un chase d’eau Francais)

If you, the American, ever travel to France, never ask where the bathroom is because French bathrooms are entirely different from American bathrooms.  “Ou est la salle de bain?”  would lead you directly to a room with a bathtub and a sink.  Never ask for the salle de bain, say instead, “Ou sont les toilettes?”  La toilette is in its own special room along with nothing else except for papier hygiénique, toilet paper.  Rien, nothing.  No magazines, no sink, just une toilette.     
The first thing the American needs to know about French toilets is that they may look exactly like American toilets.  Do not let this fool you.  Toilets are dirty creatures full of, nevermind.
At first glance, the French toilet is the same as the American toilet.  It has a lid and a seat, very familiar looking.  Business is done and your, the American’s, first shock occurs when you first notice that the toilet paper is pink.  This of course strikes you, the American, as odd and you stare at the pink paper for several minutes waiting for it to turn back to white-Americans do not accept pink toilet paper easily.  It doesn’t and finally it occurs to you, the American, that you do not need glasses because the toilet paper is indeed pink.  Then you go into a state of shock as you tug on the end of the roll and more pink follows square after square.  The American should not be intimidated by its color.  The French are not using their toilet paper as a fashion statement.  Remember, you, the American, may use as much toilet paper as you want, just not too much because otherwise you will have to explain to a mad Frenchman why his toilet got clogged and is now spewing water.  Pink toilet paper is a common occurrence in this country.  Although it is uncertain the purpose of dying it pink, one explanation is to keep the “stupid, loud, obnoxious Americans,” from using up all the toilet paper.  It works.  After just one trip to the bathroom most Americans find themselves using less and less of it.
The next problem you, the American, will probably find, is flushing the toilet.  This is not done easily; the French seem to enjoy finding new and unique ways to make their toilets flush.  Most toilets in private houses have “the knob.” It menacingly sticks out of the top of the toilet, un petit noir cône sense dessus dessous, a little, black, upside down cone.  With American toilets, you push down on the handle.  It doesn’t matter where you are or what the handle looks like, it always pushes down.  The French aren’t very American and les Americains ne sont pas trop Francais.  
The knob doesn’t push down as most Americans would like to think.  Most Americans stand next to the toilet and flick the knob, and twist the knob, and push the knob.  It doesn’t flush.  Twist, push, flick, push, twist, pousser, chiquenaude, torsion.  Nothing works, rien, nothing.  Bien sur, of course, being a “stupid, loud, obnoxious American,” asking for help is out of the question.  Ten to fifteen minutes are needed before the secret of the toilet is revealed.  
You pull the knob.  Who would think of all things you would pull the knob?  By then a line should be forming outside of the bathroom.  Water is precious in France, and the French tend to only have one bathroom which they use sparingly.  So finally, you pull the knob; the toilet finally gives out a satisfying swooshing sound; the French people are staring at you wondering if you fell in or just need some Xlax.  Then you realize there is no sink.
Where do you go to wash your hands?  The salle de bain of course.  You enter the salle de bain and see two sinks.  One is normal adult size, the other seems to be for a child.  Do not touch the smaller one.  It is not for children, and it is in no way for hands.  Some American girls, refusing to admit that this tiny sink is truly for cleaning their derrière, find it a convenient place to shave their legs.  Please do not wash your hands in the bidet.
If you can make it that far, you, the American, have made it through one of France’s biggest tests.  You may be a “stupid, loud, and obnoxious American,” but you can flush a toilet.  You walk through Paris that day satisfied with yourself, your spirits are lifted higher than the moon and the sun and the stars in the sky.  Three hours later, you will have to go to the bathroom again.  It will be different this time, a button to step on, a switch to flick, a flap to push, but you will succeed.  And each time you step out of that Paris restroom with the ecstatic smile on your face, the French people around you start to smile too.  After all the corny feel-good movies ever produced, you, the American, are the first to truly prove that happiness is contagious.  Or maybe it’s just the string of toilet paper stuck to your shoe.