you're doing it wrong.

Note: This is rather long, and about toilets and bathrooms.
When I moved into my current domicile, what did I find in the bathroom?
Well, the whole thing was done up in tile. There was a toilet, and a sink. Extending from the sink fixture was a showerhead. In the middle of the floor, was a drain.
So for the first three days I took a shower.
On the third day, I met my boss, my Real boss. Not just Han, who was there because he was bilingual and young and yelled at the kids who didn't do their homework. The Owner.
Han sat my ass down, and went to go grab something. The Boss sat in complete silence... I don't know if you know this, hell, I didn't know this until just under a month ago, but I find Asian businessmen (with the expensive and inscrutable etiquette and whatnot) absolutely terrifying. I have drunk cheap beer in alleyways with the homeless. That's kinda fun to me. I've gone to food banks because I had to. That's ordinary. Fucking being hired by Asian businessmen is something new, especially when I have never found a button-up shirt that fit me like anything other than a smock. He asked me if I was tired, I nodded. And then, to fill up the awkward five minutes (five fucking minutes!!) I started spitting out verbal diahrrea (sic) about how awesome his school was or some shit.
Dude... the guy doesn't speak more than a few words of English.
He stared down at an issue of the Korea Times.

Eventually Han came back and they yammered together for awhile. Eventually Han turned to me and said that the Boss approved because I looked Smart.

I'm not smart! I listen to hardcore for fuck's sakes.

Three days later...
(If you're attentive you realize that this is linking up to the introductory sentences in an elegant way...)
The Boss (english name=Brian) comes over to my apartment to connect a new gas range.

Here I stop you for a footnote.
There are three native-English-speaking teachers at our school. The most senior is an Australian that's been here for 8 months. The next-most senior is a Canadian that's been here for a month. Then there's me. So, when my predecessor moved out (less seniority than the Australian, but more than the Canadian), The Canadian was instructed to move out of the smallest room and move into a slightly bigger room. The smallest room was to become my room. The Canadian hemmed and hawed, and didn't really want to go through the trouble of packing up and moving across the hall, but did because the Koreans kind of insisted. This is evidence of either Korea's awesome hospitality, or its obsession with hierarchy. After a month I've sort of concluded that the former is the motivating factor, but anyway:

At my apartment there were two gas ranges: one was a two-burner that was connected and ready to go, and the other was a three-burner, that sat inert in the laundry room with a broken hose. I requested that the superfluous gas range be removed, or even I could do it if I knew when the garbagemen would come to pick up stuff off the curb. (Ha! Not so simple.)
Han insisted that Brian (my Boss) would come to connect the superior gas range and remove the inferior from my presence. I hemmed and hawed... genuinely.... I tried to remember the last time I used more than two burners cooking a meal for one... couldn't possibly think of one. Round my former place of residence, we ate a lot of stews and chilis and so forth... one burner was sufficient. But no! Brian would be around to grant me access to the superior gas range.

He came on the third day. I was scared shitless. The dude was awesome: came with a hardcase full of tools and a power drill; no wonder they say that the quintessential traits of Koreans are independence and self-reliance (more on that later), and damned if he didn't hook up my gas range. When it came time to clean off the heavy grease that coated the gas range, he turned on the light in the bathroom, intent on wetting a cloth...
stared.... at the puddles... of water...
(ok! c'mon! this shit is normal when you shower!)
He turned and gestured with the dry cloth: "Clean," he said.
Now, the iron grates had been piled there while we attached the new gas range. I interpreted his gesture as a command to clean the iron grates. I grabbed and in a panic, rubbed bar soap on them and got to scrubbing in the kitchen sink. (I hadn't had time to buy dish soap!) For his part, Brian got to scrubbing the surface of the stove with his cloth. But he took a moment to turn on the bathroom light again, stare longinly at the puddles of water, and then tear himself away and get back to scrubbing. Eventually he grabbed the old (perfectly operational and useable!) gas range, still caked in other people's grease, and held it close to his dress shirt and carried it back to the school no matter how much I gestured that I could take it for him. He smiled and was on his way.
But: what didn't leave my imagination was that last longing look: when he wanted me to clean up the mess in the bathroom, the mess caused by not knowing how to bathe properly, or not knowing how to make the bathroom presentable for a guest:
YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG

After that, I started using a basin that I previously couldn't imagine the utility for. Y'know what? Bathing with a washcloth and a basin of hot water is pretty elegant in its conservation of water and whatnot: I spend less time daydreaming and more time washing myself. I probably use half as much water, and I've seen the same basin in every Korean bathroom I've been privy to. But c'mon, how do you conclusively ask somebody the proper way to wash their naked body?

I find what helps is a little social lubricant.
Last Saturday, Misun and I travelled to Itaewon, which is a district of Seoul that caters to foreigners. We were meeting up with a friend of hers and her husband, both Americans. Her husband is a member of the American army.

I s'pose if you know me, you might see stormclouds up ahead. Don't worry he was a nice enough guy, and I can behave when I need to. Honestly, the guy won me over when I realized he was a nurse, and thus aligned with the technics of healing rather than harm.

I digress-
somehow the topic of Korean bathrooms came up during the conversation, and I relayed this whole awkward anecdote as it's written. The couple snickered a little bit, and filled me in:
-The puddles of water are fairly normal. Why install a showerhead if nobody uses it?
-It is absolutely customary to remove shoes in another's living space. Thus, puddles of water (not to mention the leaky drain under the sink) present an obstacle to use of the, erm, facilities.
-And so it is also customary to have a pair of rubber slippers inside the bathroom, for the convenience of guests and host. Aha! I have no pair of rubber slippers.
-Makes sense, doesn't it? Why have both a sink and a bathtub when your bathroom could be the width of a coffee table? Makes more sense to forego the bathtub, and install a drain in the middle of the floor. In any case, it makes cleaning the bathroom a snap. The problem of wet socks is avoided with the rubber slippers. What about the problem of soaking the toilet paper and towels while taking showers? Er, better aim? And so poor Brian's difficulties' on that day maybe make more sense. I start cleaning the grills, and he maybe hears the call of nature, sees the puddles, checks for those slippers, finds none... gets his hustle on to get back to the office and the sane Eastern bathrooms... or maybe he was just checking to see how clean they previous teacher had left the facilities... I don't know.

So all in all, the bathroom situation seemed to suddenly make sense. Until I went into a public washroom in a Seoul subway station, and see a rectangular hole in the floor caked with vomit.

Korea: YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG.