Welcome to one of the mundanities of living, made more complex in a new place: laundry!
Here are my washer and dryer. Launderettes are virtually non-existent, at least in the centro storico of Rome. This assemblage is placed in a super narrow space that I'm convinced was once an open balcony that someone walled and windowed up. The units are quite new, and quite small, compared to their American counterparts.
And here are the controls for the washing machine.
When I brought students to this country for short-term study abroad, I used to joke with them that there was such a thing as 'Italian time.' Italian time - like island time - is not exactly speedy. This concept addresses how long you will wait for restaurant service, or for your electricity to come back on (after someone with a penchant for using the wrong wattage hair styling tools has blown a fuse and wiped out your entire hotel hallway), or for mail delivery. This is not to be confused with 'Roman driving time,' which is hurry-up-or-I'll-bump-you-from-behind-at-the-light-which-has-been-green-for-9-nanoseconds.
But honestly, neither of these concepts can justifiably apply to the time that a new European washing machine can take to complete one load. Let's say that among these controls, I select 'cotoni' (cotton), at 40 degrees and a speed of 800 or 1200 for the spin cycle. The washer will then tell me that the load will take....wait for it....
2 hours and 44 minutes.
Selecting 'rapido' (meaning what you think it means) will shorten that time to...you think it will be much more like your American machine, don't you?...wait for it....
55 minutes.
Care for a tiny illustration of why this might seem like a long time?
Now, brace yourself. This could be a boring video, or it could interest you for a wee bit. Watch the rotation of the washer:
That the unit will rotate clothes in two different directions seems to be a smart innovation.
But the energy with which the washer actually rotates - in any direction - is almost equivalent to the energy with which Salvador the 21 year old cat gets up from his typical reclining position to do... anything. Like switching sides on which to continue napping. This washer's get-up-and-go is like the oomph of an electric car. It's so...reluctant.
And the dryer? Here are the controls:
The array of selections is an embarrassment of riches! But should you trust a 'jeans' cycle any more than you might trust a 'popcorn' setting on a microwave?
The time, dear readers, the time it takes to dry something...oof.
Now, if you're me, you're of the opinion that dryers are kind of evil, the same way a hot water wash is evil: these things will shrink your garments and wreck elastic. You are o.k. with line drying.
If you're like The Spouse, you prefer to retrieve your clothing from the fiery depths of Dante's seventh circle. You bring butter and jam to the laundry room because you anticipate that your pants and shirts will be nicely toasted. Nothing feels completely dry if doesn't require the initial use of asbestos gloves or tongs to handle it.
To achieve this state for clothing from a dryer here is quite the undertaking. So in the States, you might run a load of cotton things like socks and towels twice, probably. Here, I don't even know. I can't babysit laundry all of my life, here. I have to go get groceries every couple of days (future blog post topic) and pay bills (another future blog post).
Also, here's a unique bit about the dryer.
Do you think much about where the water from your freshly washed clothes actually goes when you run the dryer? Right - that vent you're supposed to routinely clean out, but rarely do...
We get to think about this every time we run the machine.
If the tank isn't emptied, the clothes just don't ever become dry.
Now that we better understand our equipment here, The Spouse is starting to accept that line drying is a necessity for some things.
What we also have to be mindful of - in all things aqueous - is the heavy calcium content of the water in Rome. The water here is unbelievably hard. It's quite safe to drink, but people prone to kidney stone problems are cautioned against regular consumption. Every metal surface that comes into contact with city water develops crusty, filmy deposits. This can build up pretty rapidly, so there are a number of products that must be enlisted to combat serious problems - in every drain as well as equipment that uses water (don't forget the minor-but-still-crucial ones, like coffee makers). And heaven forbid that you use that same untreated water in a steam iron.
I don't have a picture of it here, but older readers will remember the brand Calgon. The name resumes its otherwise lost meaning here.
While we can get some American brands of detergent at the commissary, we've also been exploring what the locals buy. Nothing seems to come without a heavy perfume. While the water here may be hard, it seems to have no odor, so what gives, I wondered aloud to The Spouse. Why does the detergent have to be thoroughly scented?
His speculation?
Having your clothes perfumed gives you a few extra hours to be sweaty in them without offending your neighbor on the bus or the street.
And in the deep end of a Roman summer, I have to concur.
Here are my washer and dryer. Launderettes are virtually non-existent, at least in the centro storico of Rome. This assemblage is placed in a super narrow space that I'm convinced was once an open balcony that someone walled and windowed up. The units are quite new, and quite small, compared to their American counterparts.
And here are the controls for the washing machine.
When I brought students to this country for short-term study abroad, I used to joke with them that there was such a thing as 'Italian time.' Italian time - like island time - is not exactly speedy. This concept addresses how long you will wait for restaurant service, or for your electricity to come back on (after someone with a penchant for using the wrong wattage hair styling tools has blown a fuse and wiped out your entire hotel hallway), or for mail delivery. This is not to be confused with 'Roman driving time,' which is hurry-up-or-I'll-bump-you-from-behind-at-the-light-which-has-been-green-for-9-nanoseconds.
But honestly, neither of these concepts can justifiably apply to the time that a new European washing machine can take to complete one load. Let's say that among these controls, I select 'cotoni' (cotton), at 40 degrees and a speed of 800 or 1200 for the spin cycle. The washer will then tell me that the load will take....wait for it....
2 hours and 44 minutes.
Selecting 'rapido' (meaning what you think it means) will shorten that time to...you think it will be much more like your American machine, don't you?...wait for it....
55 minutes.
Care for a tiny illustration of why this might seem like a long time?
Now, brace yourself. This could be a boring video, or it could interest you for a wee bit. Watch the rotation of the washer:
That the unit will rotate clothes in two different directions seems to be a smart innovation.
But the energy with which the washer actually rotates - in any direction - is almost equivalent to the energy with which Salvador the 21 year old cat gets up from his typical reclining position to do... anything. Like switching sides on which to continue napping. This washer's get-up-and-go is like the oomph of an electric car. It's so...reluctant.
And the dryer? Here are the controls:
The array of selections is an embarrassment of riches! But should you trust a 'jeans' cycle any more than you might trust a 'popcorn' setting on a microwave?
The time, dear readers, the time it takes to dry something...oof.
Now, if you're me, you're of the opinion that dryers are kind of evil, the same way a hot water wash is evil: these things will shrink your garments and wreck elastic. You are o.k. with line drying.
If you're like The Spouse, you prefer to retrieve your clothing from the fiery depths of Dante's seventh circle. You bring butter and jam to the laundry room because you anticipate that your pants and shirts will be nicely toasted. Nothing feels completely dry if doesn't require the initial use of asbestos gloves or tongs to handle it.
To achieve this state for clothing from a dryer here is quite the undertaking. So in the States, you might run a load of cotton things like socks and towels twice, probably. Here, I don't even know. I can't babysit laundry all of my life, here. I have to go get groceries every couple of days (future blog post topic) and pay bills (another future blog post).
Also, here's a unique bit about the dryer.
Do you think much about where the water from your freshly washed clothes actually goes when you run the dryer? Right - that vent you're supposed to routinely clean out, but rarely do...
We get to think about this every time we run the machine.
Now that we better understand our equipment here, The Spouse is starting to accept that line drying is a necessity for some things.
What we also have to be mindful of - in all things aqueous - is the heavy calcium content of the water in Rome. The water here is unbelievably hard. It's quite safe to drink, but people prone to kidney stone problems are cautioned against regular consumption. Every metal surface that comes into contact with city water develops crusty, filmy deposits. This can build up pretty rapidly, so there are a number of products that must be enlisted to combat serious problems - in every drain as well as equipment that uses water (don't forget the minor-but-still-crucial ones, like coffee makers). And heaven forbid that you use that same untreated water in a steam iron.
'Sale' is salt. It must be occasionally run through the dishwasher. Decalcifying tablets must be placed in drains and washing machines.
I don't have a picture of it here, but older readers will remember the brand Calgon. The name resumes its otherwise lost meaning here.
While we can get some American brands of detergent at the commissary, we've also been exploring what the locals buy. Nothing seems to come without a heavy perfume. While the water here may be hard, it seems to have no odor, so what gives, I wondered aloud to The Spouse. Why does the detergent have to be thoroughly scented?
His speculation?
Having your clothes perfumed gives you a few extra hours to be sweaty in them without offending your neighbor on the bus or the street.
And in the deep end of a Roman summer, I have to concur.
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