Cover is Destroyed and Never Reused

Today I encountered, for the first time, a device in a public toilet stall that sits behind the toilet itself and, at the touch of a button, rotates a plastic cover over the toilet seat, digesting it at one end and emitting it at the other. "Cover is destroyed and never reused," a sticker reassures you, and a little LED display lets you know how many covers remain stored for future use. How wondrous!

Once, in Peru, I noticed that none of the toilets even had seats. They were otherwise normal, porcelain bowls, sporting brand names such as "American Standard." In Cuzco, I caved in to my curiosity and visited a toilet shop. "Porque no tienen asientos?" I asked, gesturing at row upon seatless row of merchandise. The saleswoman shrugged, and explained, "Cuestan menos asi." They cost less this way. It was a simple answer, but sensible.

When I visited Albania two months ago, I learned that they had recently remodeled the capital city's airport to provide modern bathrooms for Western visitors. I walked in and at first glance was appropriately impressed. They had installed a shiny concrete floor, a bank of urinals along the wall, sinks with mirrors and even canisters of antibacterial soap. But then I noticed that beneath each urinal was a wooden bucket—perhaps a sign that "modernization" is still a work in progress there.