Toilets in Istanbul

I think everyone would agree that one indicator of your familiarity with any given city is your knowledge of the local toilet map. Best and worst toilets – ones to look for and ones to avoid, easily accessible ones, heated toilet seats – armed with this – oh, so essential! – knowledge you will be ready to explore without worrying about physiological needs that tend to give us a nagging reminder of their urgency at the most inconvenient of times.

In Turkey in general, the quality of these facilities varies widely. Traditionally, people – from peasants to sultans – used the good old squat toilet. If you visit the many splendid buildings of the former Ottoman palaces (that attest to the wealth and glory of the empire), you will see squat toilets made of exquisite marble. Toilets like this are still in use, although marble isn’t as easy to come by. A huge advantage of this toilet is the fact that you don’t actually come into contact with a toilet seat. However, some may find the squatting position an uncomfortable balancing act. If that makes it better, keep in mind that the modern toilet is apparently the source of many a civilisation diseases. Haemorrhoids, it is said, are virtually unheard of among African tribes that haven’t adopted the Western style toilet.

Istanbulites and visitors alike are spoilt for choice when it comes to toilets. I, personally, am a big fan of the fancy-pants spanking new toilets, dotted around the sea of Marmara seaside (referred to the locals as the ‘sahil’) and purpose-built by the Istanbul Metropolitan Municipality.

The municipality has done a good job of choosing orange as the colour, making the toilets easy to see from a distance. They have separate entrances for men / gents (erkek, or bay, in Turkish) and women / ladies (kadın, or bayan, in Turkish). It cost 1 (one) Turkish lira to use the toilet. No change? Not to worry. If you have an Istanbul transport card with sufficient credit, you can swipe it at the barrier; a lira will be deducted from your balance and the lock will be released.

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(Digression: This brings to mind a scene I had witnessed countless times at Manchester Piccadilly train station. Unlike most of the UK, there is a fee to use the toilets there – 30 pence. Flushed, anxious, desperate passengers would turn pockets and wallets inside out in great hurry to find either a 20 pence and a 10 pence coin, or three coins of 10 pence. No other combination would appease those heartless turnstiles. If you are in luck, the change machine might be the answer. But what if you aren’t? Anyway, I digress…)

Once in the toilet, you can take your pick: a modern Western toilet or a squat toilet.

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My general impression is that these toilets tend to be quite clean. The floor isn’t usually as wet as it can be – most locals usually use water to clean themselves and shudder with disgust at the very thought of toilet paper. The latter is, however, available, and so are paper towels or electric hand dryers. But you will be hard-pressed to find hot water in any, and I mean any, public toilet in Turkey. Most likely, the flow of water will stop altogether, if you try the hot tap. And even though I do prefer to wash my hands in hot water, I will philosophically conclude that cold water is certainly better than no water at all. We can’t have everything – can we?