Lausanne, SWITZERLAND — The bathroom is something else in Europe. If you find a free one that’s clean, give a nod skyward. In France, you have to search high and low for one that doesn’t cost half a dollar. Often, you find yourself in a free public restroom that doesn’t meet the standards for a pigpen. In such “restrooms” you are forced to leave before inhaling too many unsanitary molecules of oxygen.

If the stars are aligned just right, you will be unfortunate enough to find yourself full of Coke in a Parisian caf‚ where you will find something completely unnatural — the Turkish toilet.

This is the cruelest of facilities for women — unless you are Turkish. I am guessing they know exactly what to do.

Let me give you the lowdown on the Double T. There’s a hole in the ground. To brighten it up, they put porcelain around it to fool you into thinking it’s not a hole.

I can imagine the evolution of this toilet: A long time ago people realize they are different than animals. Turkish people realize they cannot go to the bathroom on the ground like their animal friends.

They saw the difference when Roger Park Ranger told them they had to dig holes for bodily functions to not disturb the animals’ natural habitat or endanger themselves.

As a result, people dig holes because they want to keep camping. Eventually, they develop a superiority complex because they have special bathrooms.

Hole-goers unite: The superior people decide they want to spend less time camping with animals and spend more time among other “hole-goers.” The word “town” is later given to the region where liveth other hole-goers.

The hole becomes a private domain: But the neighborhood toilet doesn’t offer much privacy. A wise but shy Turkish man decides that people have to stop going to the bathroom in front of people.

He thinks it’s disconcerting to greet passer-byers when trying to hover over the village “hole.” This Turkish man becomes a trendsetter when he encloses the hole with walls.

Dressing things up: Another innovative Turk decides this hole is ugly. People deserve a more agreeable place to go to the bathroom.

The toilet consultants put porcelain around the hole because going in a hole surrounded by dirt doesn’t make people feel much cooler than their dogs who were also using the town’s ground facilities.

They ascertain the porcelain provides a more concise target, which includes two places for your feet, marked by foot-like shapes on each side of the hole. Why does the squatting position require additional instruction? What else would you do with your feet?

The evolution of toilets in Turkey stops there. Nothing has changed since. And as far as I am concerned, whether or not that hole in the ground is wearing a porcelain kimono, it is still a hole in the ground and doesn’t qualify as a toilet.

I came face to face with the Turkish toilet while studying in France in 1997. I waited nearly 30 minutes in line before the Michael Jackson concert. I really had to go. Note: I have proclaimed myself to be the human noodle strainer and with good reason. To add to my bladder’s character flaws, it is also a shy bladder and doesn’t like to cooperate when an audience of 25 people is waiting for the same stall. It folds under pressure. Suffice it to say, the conditions I came upon when entering the line for the lone stall were at best, disastrous, for me and my bladder. And what was worse was that I didn’t even know I was waiting for a wall-enclosed hole without any toilet paper.

So I held it throughout the entire show. Sitting through the three-hour concert was tough, and I could not help but wondering how people could go without taking off their pants?

Later that summer at the beach, still in France mind you, I met up with another Turkish toilet. Obviously some Turks had talked the French into accepting this “hole” for a toilet. I succeeded as there was no line and no pants.

I have been confronted several more times with the “what to do with your pants in a Turkish toilet” question. Maybe all Turkish women wear skirts. Maybe this toilet was invented before pants. But we have pants now, and I don’t know what to do with them. It looks like I will have to stop drinking days before a live show or learn what to do when wearing pants and faced with a 25-person line for a hole without toilet paper.

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Amanda Fier is a senior in journalism and mass communication and French from Davenport.