Balance is key when confronted with a squat toilet. For the westerner, it is useful to have a handle for stability, but, more importantly, to have strong leg muscles. I am no stranger to squat toilets. My first encounter was, surprisingly, in a small town in France. There have been times when I would have welcomed the squat. For example, on the train to Mexico City when I discovered the reason the seats were unsittable as the door flew open on a bend in the rails and I saw the woman standing on the toilet. Better a hole in the floor.
But the biggest challenge came at the bus station in Kaili. My guide had gone to buy the tickets and I was left to fend for myself with bags. I manage to travel with a relatively light load, keeping my backpack to 12 kilos with camera gear in a front pack so walking and climbing stairs do not hamper me. A squat toilet presents a different problem that may not be apparent until too late. There I was, pants around my knees using the walls for a little support, when it came time to get up. My leg muscles failed me. I could not raise myself to a standing position and I didn’t know how to yell, “Help, I’m stuck in this position, get me out of here” in Chinese. Nor would my pride have allowed me to do that even if I had known the words. This was a small space with not enough room to propel myself forward and get up camel style. This required a straight up motion. Several false starts and I was officially concerned that there was no way up that didn’t entail sitting on the toilet floor, or worse, and removing the backpack. The solution presented itself when I looked up and saw that I could reach the top of the door. Pull myself up. By this time, the leg muscles were jelly and useless. Arm muscles, my weakest, were required. Panting and panicked, I struggled, legs quivering and tears in my eyes, gaining upward movement an inch at a time. With one final end-of-strength pull, I was upright; shaking and heart pounding, but upright. With a nonchalance I didn’t feel, I opened the door and stepped out into the crowded room. My backpack was never out of sight, but the next time it will be on the floor.

But the dilemma here, Janet, is that the floor of the squat toilet is usually only slightly better than the contents of same, and just as redolent. Would you really want to put your earthly possessions, which then you have to put on your back, in that swamp? As the king said, “A puzzlement.”
Sadly, some sacrifices must be made. I don’t think any amount of exercises will build up those thigh muscles enough. Or, alternatively, you could travel with me and watch my bags:)
I’m thinking I may encouter squat toilets in Nepal next year – could challenge my sensibilities 🙂