WC, s.v.p.?

NICE, France—When living in another country, even the simplest tasks become missions. Soon after my arrival in Nice I was tasked with such a mission, and I had no choice but to accept it: I needed to find a bathroom.

I had just finished my third day at my internship in Nice, and I wanted nothing more than to escape the scorching sun and wander down to the Mediterranean Sea. But my grumbling stomach and full bladder soon clouded my thoughts and two more mundane duties—food and toilet—took priority.

In the stifling heat, the only breeze in the entire city seemed to be finding a good baguette at one of the many boulangeries lining the streets. But, task one complete, that’s when I learned the hard way that public restrooms are difficult to find in the south of France.

I ran to hotels, bakeries, supermarkets, cafés, and shops; all denied me entrance to the much-needed throne. Frustrated, I ended up turning back to catch the bus—hoping to get home before the fuse blew—but before departing I decided to give my luck one last shot. I gripped my tummy tight, entered a quirky café called The Scottish Tea Shop and with my best French asked: "Est-ce qu'il y a des toilettes?"

To my relief, the waiter smiled and with a little laugh replied, "En face, mademoiselle," pointing outside. I turned my head—just a few steps across the street was a little brown sign advertising the restrooms. With a slight smile and little nod to the kind gentleman I rushed over, proud of my accomplishment.

Nathalie R. Miraval ’14 is a news writer in Winthrop House.