No more mint tea for me

We began work at last today (June 9) in our first newspaper. During orientation, we had anticipated all manner of potential problems from language difficulties to resistance to change. I immediately encountered a problem we had not thought of. After a long introductory meeting and refreshments of bottled water and mint tea I walked through the saloon doors that marks off the rest rooms. There I found two more doors. One on the right and one of the left.

Both were labeled with what appeared to be nearly identical bits of twisted black ribbon. Arabic writing which I cannot read, marking the men's room and the women's in a country where cross gender hand-shaking is considered rude. Walking through the wrong door might be an international incident. Oh dear.

I waited for somebody else to lead the way. Finally a man came in and headed to the door on the right. I went into the one on the left.

Next problem. There was no toilet. How I detest Turkish toilets and I was in a long skirt. But after the tea and the waiting, there was no choice.