Usually, one does not worry about faucets during short international trips. A bucket (balti) and mug can be managed at most hotels, airbnbs and homes. It does become an issue when one happens to shift abroad for a longer duration. 

In our case, we relocated to Switzerland, a country like many more in the rest of Europe, that went into panic mode over toilet paper, during the first wave of Covid-19 earlier this year. The biggest available trolleys at supermarkets were stacked with toilet rolls by customers worried about the future condition of their most personal hygiene. To prevent hoarding, several retail outlets were forced to ration the number of rolls that each customer could buy. 

Arriving from India, where basic food and water can be scarce in many parts of the country, the mad rush for rolls of tissue was difficult to understand. 

This is when Lake Geneva is just a step away from most homes here and the 24-hour crystal clear water supply never fails. We had already been warned by elders with longer exposure to the Western world about the number two problem that we could face.

They told us that there are deep-seated social, religious, cultural, habitual and legacy issues involved due to which any jettisoning of the wet process for the dry practise could deeply affect our mental well being. And, they are right. We have grown up seeing and hearing stories about grand and great grandparents making it a point to not only wash but also bathe after every visit, even when stricken down by dysentery. 

Well warned, we decided to include faucets as an important parameter in our selection process to find a house on rent. Any part of Switzerland is picture-perfect and so were the houses overlooking the Alps and Lake Geneva. But, they all lacked the particular piece of plumbing that was crucial for us. Our advisors from back home wisely told us to move into the most suitable home, but address the important task of re-fitting our toilets, immediately.

I was assigned the responsibility of managing the issue.

Following some usual procrastination on my part (as I had already procured a balti and mug for each loo), the initial discreet inquiries from the elders took on a more aggressive tone. They told me in no uncertain terms that I needed to move my lazy butt to find a permanent solution or else they would never visit us, Covid or no Covid, this year or any year. Luckily, I found faucets piled at the corner of a large home improvement store, and immediately bought three, as required. But, this was just the beginning of another set of issues. 

A local plumber, whose consultancy charges were higher than a heart surgeon in India, informed us that the faucets could not be fitted due to the absence of any plumbing system next to the pots. The only way would be to break the walls of the toilets to install new pipes. The plumber promptly sent us another estimate close to the cost of building a new house in India. 

There was no way we could afford the bill. And, there was no way the landlord would agree to pay, even if we did manage to convince him about our ancient tradition to clean our bottoms in a particular way. Luckily, our problem was soon solved. Though we squabble a lot within India, we Indians stand by each other internationally.

And, just like back home, we are very good at finding solutions (colloquially referred to as jugaad) that are effective without costing much. We were informed by a couple of active members of the local Indian community, fully conversant and sensitive to our cultural moorings, to find a longer shower hose that can also operate as an effective faucet. 

And, that’s how the situation stands currently, until a further method is found.