Trip to the WC

A sidelight of my trips across Europe have been the bathrooms, toilets or water closets. Or WC as they say in the signs.

They cost money, I forgot the ticket that lets me out. Are they all full. How do you lock this door. How do you unlock this door.

One in Reykjavik I couldn't figure out how to open. But one at the tip of the Reykjanes peninsula takes the cake. We were at a tip of land where you can see whales in the summer. I went to the WC before I went out.

The door was a little swollen, but opened with a tug. I couldn't figure out how to lock it, which was a concern only because the wind could blow it open. I let it go, because I had to go.

I went to leave and couldn't get the door open.

I shoved it had and kicked a few times. Nothing.

Pulled on the door and twisted the lock, right then left. Pushed and tried the same thing.

Kicked it again.

Didn't budge.

Stepped back. At least it was warm in here, I thought. Everything in Iceland has the benefit of geothermal heat piped in, even the bathroom hut at the seaweed beach.

Deb looked at the other stall door, gave me advice on which way to force the lock. It didn't work and I shoved the door again. Even tried the kick it in with the sole of my shoe by the lock itself.

They were about to head to the lightkeepers house when finally the lock turned the other way.

At least the others knew not to lock the door.