Beyond the Porcelain

If a restaurant’s dining area is its carefully curated public profile, its bathroom is the private reality. For Ghaidaa, the mastermind behind the viral account @to_pee_or_not_to_pee, that reality is a full-time beat. As Egypt’s first restroom reviewer, she has turned a hilarious, hyper-niche concept into an essential public service, dissecting the spaces we all use but rarely discuss.

What started as a sarcastic joke quickly resonated with an audience that battles daily restroom anxiety. "A day won't pass without you paying a visit to a toilet," Ghaidaa notes. "Or dismissing the idea out of fear of what’s behind those doors." While the internet can be cynical about lifestyle creators, she leans into the humor, validating her creative labor through high community engagement. "If people want to make fun, let’s make fun. But it’s alive because people like it, and most importantly, because I like it. If I stop enjoying it, it'll probably die."

Her reviews take her across Cairo’s dramatic geographical divide, though not all developments are created equal. While Sheikh Zayed frequently surprises her with high standards, New Cairo (Tagmo3) often misses the mark. For Ghaidaa, the ultimate hospitality killer is a high-end restaurant lacking a private restroom. "If I’m going to eat, drink, and spend a few hours at your restaurant, you better have your own toilet. Relying on a communal mall bathroom makes the entire facade crumble."

Inside the stall, her critical eye spares no detail. She despises dark, moody designs that breed architectural suspicion. "It’s a toilet; it should be bright and well-lit," she insists. Then, there is the sacred Egyptian benchmark: the shattaf. Aside from a horrific, shattaf-less hotel experience that nearly caused her mother to check out on the spot, Ghaidaa's engineering standards are straightforward: "Good water pressure and the right angle. No gun shattafs, and absolutely no dripping all over the floor. There's no complex physics behind it."

Filming in these private quarters inevitably leads to comedic encounters with management and patrons alike. When caught in the act, girls often recognize her instantly, asking, "Omg, are you to_pee_or_not_to_pee?" More often than not, it highlights the unique sisterhood of public restrooms. "We compliment each other, ask for pads, joke around, zip up dresses, and talk about hair and beauty products," she shares. It’s a sacred space where strangers instantly drop their guard and support one another.

The Person Behind the Lens

While Ghaidaa has trained herself to immediately dissect a venue's structural flaws, she actively prevents that critical eye from bleeding into her personal life. "It is very tiring, of course, but I like to think I’m more contained when it’s not a toilet. I get over myself."

Outside the restroom mirror, Ghaidaa is remarkably adventurous and low-maintenance—backpacking through developing nations, camping, and eating at local fool carts. Her own uncurated, everyday sanctuary is grounded in a normal routine of office work, gym sessions, and a massive commitment to personal hydration. "I drink an average of three liters of water a day," she laughs. "And in general, I love hydration in all forms. I physically cannot go anywhere without my chapstick and hand cream."

By exposing the cracks in Cairo's hospitality scene, Ghaidaa has proven that even the most mundane, overlooked spaces can host genuine moments of human connection.