When in Rome: Laundry

Not to make too wide a generalization, but you could almost say that Americans will not do by hand what can be done by machine, while Italians (nuns, at least) will not use a machine for what can be done by hand. This is especially the case for laundry. I already knew what to expect, so I came prepared with a supply of Oxy-Clean in a zip-lock bag. (I am a BIG Oxy-Clean believer.) I would soak my laundry in Oxy-Clean solution overnight and then the next morning take them up to what is euphemistically called the laundry room to add some of their wonderful detergent (really good stuff, called “marsiglia”) and then (and as Dave Barry would say, I am not making this up) scrub it on the washboard that is built into the laundry sink. Yes, it is true, and I took a photo of it as evidence. The photo even has my little pile of laundry there waiting its treatment. (Photos are still on the memory card; I won’t be accessing them until I’m back in the States, so as not to risk fragmentation.)

Of course, I didn’t really know what I was doing, or how much to do, so I just followed what the others did. If they slapped the wet laundry on the washboard, so did I. If they rubbed the fabric together, so did I. Then we would wring out the water and hang the items on “stendini” (an apparatus that serves as a kind of clothes line) on the outside terrace. That’s why all the houses in Rome have either terraces or balconies: to dry the laundry.

There is a very fine washing machine in the laundry room—a front-loader, I think the brand name is Mieta or something like that—would that we had such a fine machine in Chicago! But they only use it (and the equally state of the art dryer) for sheets and towels and tablecloths (de rigueur; no self-respecting Italian would eat off a bare formica table).

Anyway , even though it has been a challenge, I seem to have been doing okay keeping things adequately clean. At least no one has complained yet!