Seoul, South Korea — One of the things that can fill a traveler with dread is having to find a restroom in an unfamiliar city — and then bracing for the condition it might be in. Neither of these is a problem in Seoul, I am beyond happy to report.

The bathrooms are clean, odorless and well-maintained in train stations, department stores, hotels, at tourist attractions, in restaurants, etc. According to the Korea Tourism Organization travel guide, anyone can use the facilities anyplace at anytime. And what you're used to at home is the norm, though a few places have Western facilities as well as squat-style. The door of the stall may have an icon or the word "Western" to speed you to your destination.

Ahn Young-joon / AP (ENLARGE)

Haewoojae, the world's one and only toilet house, is seen in Suwon, south of Seoul, South Korea.

Lee Jin-man / AP (ENLARGE)

South Koreans walk past toilets shaped like a giant soccer ball near the World Cup soccer stadium in Suwon, south of Seoul.

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Around Seoul, there are also free-standing restrooms; just watch for signs with the icons of a blue man and a red woman to lead the way. Put your 100 won coin (about a dime) in the slot and the door opens. You get 10 minutes of privacy in a roomy, wheelchair-accessible rectangular structure equipped with a sink, a baby-changing station, a mirror, a place to hang your purse, toilet paper and, of course, a toilet. Inside are directions, including in English, about the various appliances and the basics of how to lock the door. I did not linger long enough to find out what happens if you overstay your 10 minutes and, of course, can't assume that every restroom is exactly the same.

The ones in hotels are even more advanced, sort of car washes for your rear bumper. Perhaps South Koreans are following the lead of the Japanese, who have made toilets a sort of performance art center with saluting lids and classical music. In one of the hotels I stayed in, there were directions (in several languages) in the bathroom that promoted all the wonderful features of my very own throne. I could perch on a heated seat, have my rear spritzed and warm air-dried and, shall we say, other similar functions.

The week after my visit, Seoul played host to the inaugural meeting of the World Toilet Association (its motto is "toilet is life"). Among the governmental delegates, United Nations representatives and "toilet percussionists" concerned with the world's hygiene was "Mr. Toilet," better known as Sim Jae-duck, former mayor of Suwon, who has made it his personal mission to see to it that his country's once-woeful sanitation facilities were up to snuff for the 2002 World Cup soccer finals, which South Korea co-hosted with Japan.

And what could be more fitting than to find out that Mr. Toilet lives in a house in the shape of a ... toilet. Really. I only wish I had known this when I was in Suwon, about 30 miles from downtown Seoul; I would have seen it for myself.

Sim had an open house for the WTA delegates at the steel, glass and white concrete two-story structure, according to The Associated Press and other news outlets. The multi-bathroom house covers 4,508 square feet and has a stream and a garden. It's called "Haewoojae," which means "a place of sanctuary where one can solve one's worries."

This is one man who takes his country's "restroom revolution" very seriously.

Remember that soccer connection? Free-standing restrooms in the shape of soccer balls remain at the stadium where the World Cup games were played.

Like the restrooms, the subway is extremely clean. No trash, no dirt and no graffiti. In some of the newer cars, an overhead crawl tells you in Korean and English what stop you're at; otherwise you have to rely on the announcements or the signage when you arrive at each station. Most riders talk, text-message, read, watch tiny TVs or sleep.

For those of us doing none of the above, there was unscheduled entertainment of another sort. On one ride, a man was selling women's stockings and carrying around a mannequin's lower leg (below the knee through the whole foot) for his demonstrations. On another, a well-groomed man in a neatly tailored suit was holding a black book and walking up and down the car, announcing in a booming voice what I concluded was something to do with religion. On a third, a man passed out colorful squares packaged in plastic, all the while delivering his spiel. I couldn't understand a word and I didn't think this was a free sample, so I watched the other passengers. Some began to take out money, and at that point I noted that there was a price on the packaging. Those who didn't want to buy simply handed back what was possibly a handkerchief or scarf.

But my favorite was a man who would have done Popeil proud. He was selling a gadget that peeled chestnuts. Almost as if he were performing a magic trick, he held up the small brown nut for all to see. Then came the two-handled implement that looked like pliers with blades on both sides. With a practiced hand, he quickly and skillfully snipped off the chestnut's shell and dropped it in the cardboard box atop his wheeled cart. So engaging was his presentation that for a minute, he had me believing this was a tool I needed. Then I though how rare it is that I purchase chestnuts at home, and my won stayed safely in my purse.