Two of the worst places I’ve used were in m**ic*...in the poorer towns in the countryside.
One was a woven reed surrounded area with a hole in the ground. On top of the whole was a hole was a 3x4 foot piece of wood with a big hole in it. One straddled and squatted and squeezed. For t.p....old novela type comic books strewn on the dirt floor.
2nd one in the town square...a closed raised closet with a worn out wooden seat with a hole. Not too bad, but the whole back side of the closet was exposed below the seat level. So one could actually watch the physics of the drop from behind the closet.
Remember going to pasadena rose parade two days later in an area with beautiful buildings, paved roads, private running water toilets and saying “ why is everybody complaining so much and so unhappy with what they have or don’t have?”
We had a summer country cottage with an outhouse. One year bees built honey combs under the seat. Using the toilet was a nervous experience, but we were never stung. We avoided going in the late afternoon. The bees seemed more agitated and numerous at that time. Perhaps coming home from a hard days work. Perhaps our smell seemed like part of the hive from the years of accumulation, so we were not perceived as an enemy.
We had a summer country cottage with an outhouse. One year bees built honey combs under the seat. Using the toilet was a nervous experience, but we were never stung. We avoided going in the late afternoon. The bees seemed more agitated and numerous at that time. Perhaps coming home from a hard days work. Perhaps our smell seemed like part of the hive from the years of accumulation, so we were not perceived as an enemy.