I sold everything to travel the world in 2015, and since then, I’ve been to 19 countries, living for weeks or months at a time in each. While I love my current lifestyle, travel is full of surprises—and as a woman in my 40s, sometimes those surprises include dealing with UI issues.
An emergency hysterectomy in Albania wreaked havoc on my bladder, which my surgeons told me was par for the course with the way they had to manhandle my innards for the surgery. It meant that I had to tinkle every 60 to 90 minutes post-surgery for a couple of months. And here I thought I was getting to finally ditch pads after leaving my uterus in the operating room!
The ever-daunting quest for personal hygiene products is one of the worst aspects of playing nomad. Unlike back home, I was never overwhelmed by choice while abroad. Often, I had little to no choice, since pads might be only an afterthought in shops owned and staffed by men, or a single brand would be offered by pharmacies. In countries like Morocco, pads were either thick granny-style pads or the super-slim style made for teen girls with no thighs. In Spain and Portugal, trying to find unscented pads was ludicrous. I don’t know about you, but some things for me can’t be helped with “mountain-fresh scent”—who are they kidding? Far too often, I stood in store aisles sniffing packages to try and find unscented products.
But post-operative UI also meant changing my travel style for a while, thanks to the constant need for bathrooms. This made me an urban explorer, opting to stay in busier neighborhoods with lots going on, always carrying cash in case I needed to buy a coffee or something else under the guise of using a toilet. Thankfully, day one in Morocco taught me to always have tissues in my bag, since I had to pay exorbitant prices to people sitting outside bus station toilets, selling toilet paper by the square – by the square! Carrying my own saved me from ever having to try to explain how the loos were out of paper in some Albanian businesses that seemed apathetic about providing it.
During my awkward recovery phase in Tirana, the capital of Albania, pads helped save me from doing the pee-pee dance in line at cafes or the duck walk from squeezing my thighs together in hopes of reaching toilets in time, ones that always seemed to be outside, around the corner, upstairs, downstairs—anywhere but close.
But nomads don’t stay put for long. My recovery was six to eight weeks, and I got out of Dodge in the eighth week, when I thought things had settled down sufficiently. Frustratingly, the 10-hour bus ride through Albania and Montenegro’s mountains to Sarajevo, Bosnia, re-inflamed my abdomen, and UI flared up again for a few more weeks. The scenic route nearly undid me!
A lot of that grief came from the rude discovery of my VIP bus being not VIP at all. It’s common to book bus tickets online in Europe, and when I did so, the site promised air conditioning, toilets, WiFi, gold-gilded seats, cushions of air, and more. My “luxurious, full-service” bus trip to Bosnia promised all these extras but turned out to have none. Even suspension seemed to be missing on that bumpy, thumpy trip.
When I boarded in Albania, I realized the bus lacked a toilet, so I rushed out for a last visit to the loo. That bus station’s restroom made the “the worst toilet in Scotland” from Trainspotting look enviable. You don’t need to know more, but some things can’t be unseen.
I rejoiced when our bus got a flat tire in the mountains of Montenegro and the driver limped it to a roadside tavern. Toilet visit! And a needed glass of wine! Bus travel always means at least two hours between stops, and who knows what the toilet conditions are like en route; we got lucky with that stop.
Of course, I would rather travel around the world without UI troubles, but I soon realized that life is meant to be lived, and people travel with far greater obstacles. With some planning, awareness, and preparations, I figured there’s no reason why I can’t have the adventure of my lifetime no matter what my bladder has in mind.
So after years on the road, in and out of trains, planes, and buses in some of the most amazing (but occasionally less than accommodating) places in the world, I have a few other tips for anyone planning a trip while managing UI:
- Get aisle seats on airplanes. The last thing you need is the ire of your passenger in the next seat when you’re up once an hour to use the loo. Check seating maps online when purchasing tickets and choose seats close to designated toilets—usually at the front or back of the plane. If it costs you $10 to have that convenience, then it’s money well spent.
- Carry change. In places in Europe, Africa, and Asia, you often have to pay to use a toilet in train stations. Sometimes the door is staffed by someone who’ll can break a bill for you, but often it’s an electronic gate you can’t pass till you insert coins. And if you don’t have the right currency yet, always, always use the loo before you get off the train, just in case.
- Stick a packet of tissues in your bag. It’s best to never expect there to be toilet paper so you’re not caught off-guard. Many countries don’t typically provide it.
- Bring pads with you if you’re loyal to a brand or style. In Europe, pads are slimmer and smaller. There are fewer packages, with far less choice, on shelves. Oddly, pharmacies won’t sell them in some countries, but in other nations you buy them in pharmacies. And if you’re sensitive to the perfume in scented pads, best to have your own.
- Consider a peeing tool! If you need relief when experiencing the great outdoors, there are tools to make that easier, which can also help in countries with “squatting toilets,” like India. Devices like the GoGirl make it possible for women to stand and pee like a man, as it’s a rubber spout one holds in place for doing the deed while standing. Usually they come with a travel container for storage. It’s not thrilling to carry these things around, but they’re great to have when needed.
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