Bathrooms
When imagining the natural and
architectural wonder that is the Machu Picchu I naturally envision dramatic
mountain views, lush greenery, stone paths, ruined temples and very many
llamas. What does not come to mind, however, is the moment of confusion in a
cramped shack halfway up a trail in the greenery, facing a squat toilet nobody
could have mentally prepared me for.
That, is culture shock. Not
because squat toilets are “weird” per se, but because they’ll inevitably force
me to confront just how deep my biases about “modernity” really are. In
Australia, sanitation is a given focused on convenience. In rural Peru –
particularly along the routes to Machu Picchu – public toilets are shaped by uneven
terrain, irregular water access, and different cultural priorities. Logically I
know that it is just a toilet, but I also know that I would panic the first
time. Why? Because I have been trained to see these differences as primitive
and unsanitary despite the actual reality.
Hottola’s 2004 concept of “culture
confusion” appropriately fits this situation. My discomfort doesn’t stem from
disrespect or judgement, but from the jarring destruction of assumptions I wasn’t
even aware I had. The shock isn’t about the Machu Picchu, or Peru, but about
me.
At a broader scale this can become
rather dangerous. Considering the already very essentialised view of the Machu
Picchu as a spiritually pure but materially poor and “underdeveloped” site, my
culture confusion can be harmful. If I were to respond with frustration or judgement,
I risk reinforcing a harmful narrative with my power as a tourist and member of
the digital world. Hence, to minimise culture shock/confusion research about
the day-to-day aspects of life at the Machu Picchu would be paramount.
Ultimately, however, culture confusion isn’t failure – it’s growth.
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