Tag Archives: Laundry

That laundry thing again

27 Saturday Jul 2013

Posted by in Home exchange, Travel

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I’m a big proponent of home exchanges. They allow me to travel much more frequently and for longer periods of time than would be possible paying hotel bills. Even the new AirB&B sites pale by comparison. Exchanges have also taken me to places not on my radar or wish list. I receive a request for an exchange, perhaps I’ve never been there or only briefly, and my first response is, “Why wouldn’t I want to do that?”

This method of travel has been my primary mode for the last eight years taking me to such disparate places as Berlin, Ghent, Marseille, Istanbul and, now, Bologna. Forgive me if I have failed to mention your city. I’m not a fan of long lists. Many cities, many excellent exchanges.

On to Bologna and that laundry. A crucial factor in exchanges is to leave a place the way you found it. This is one of the beauties of the exchange. You are in someone’s home while they are in yours. There is an assumed respect and I have never been disappointed. Only with a neighbor’s cat but that’s another story. Requirements vary to achieve that “as you found it.” Some people have cleaning services and just ask for broom clean, others ask that the laundry is done and shower doors are cleaned. It’s free lodging. You do it.

Oh, yes, the laundry. I am stunned to discover that my delightful exchanger in Bologna irons his sheets! I have done a lot of ironing in my life beginning with the handkerchiefs of my father but I have never ironed a sheet. This lovely man irons fitted sheets. I thought that’s why people owned fitted sheets–they fit, tight, no ironing. I was wrong.

The task is magnified by the fact that two additional people joined me on this exchange and had the foresight to leave before the iron-in. I am a third of the way through the sheets. I still have six days so I am not rushing plus it’s in the mid-90’s in Bologna this July.

I’m hoping my exchanger isn’t appalled by my efforts. His are clearly better ironed. I have tried, they seem flat enough and there are no scorch marks. I’m not advertising my ironing prowess. Next time, I find a laundry.

Not so sweet

18 Thursday Jul 2013

Posted by in Travel

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Not many things stump me. Perhaps that is a gross exaggeration. Let me say that I can usually figure out how things work–except when it comes to Italian washing machines. There is a clever little machine called Candy. The most recent experience was with a Candy named “Smart.” That should have been the first and most telling clue. But I blithely loaded the machine with clothes and soap only to discover that Candy was smarter than I yet not smart enough to just do the laundry. The home exchanger left instructions, select “N” for the quickest wash and start. Earlier experiences with Italian washing machines made that choice appealing as they can take an unbearably long time. First they fill with water, the water sits there long enough to heat up then the machine sloshes for a spell. Stops, sits, sloshes some more and can take upwards of three hours to complete its cycles of slosh and wait, slosh and wait.

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There was no “N” on the dial–anywhere. Cotone, known for the long wait, delicati, the obvious and something with a Tutto on it. I selected Tutto, pushed a couple of other buttons that looked necessary including what looked like temperature but turned out to be time and another the velocity of the spin. Pushed start. Nothing. Pushed start again. Still nothing. Pushed really hard on start until a sort of click. Nothing. Started over again. Nothing worked. Candy won. Later that evening, the exchanger, who fortunately lives in the building, came to the rescue. What he did looked like what I did except when he pushed start, Candy began her little sloshing. I watched, really carefully. I swear I did. His push was a simple push with his thumb, the steps seemed simple enough, took thirty minutes. Laundry in the future should be a cinch.

It was not to be. This morning I set and reset that little devil a minimum of ten times. Every time, after a push of start, nothing happened. The laundry, soap and all, sits there waiting until the return of the exchanger. A sweet-sounding little machine called Candy has truly outsmarted me and I am not pleased. An Aperol spritz is helping but I’m having trouble letting the defeat go.

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Perhaps I need a new thumb.