linge (n.) laundry
As some of you may or may not know, my laundry record is rather spotty.
Wait that sounds weird.
My dirty laundry builds up quickly.
That also sounds weird.
WHATEVER. THE POINT IS, my laundry skills are a little bit lacking. Suffice it to say that I haven't done laundry since I've been here (yes, really). I've had (relatively) clean clothes to wear everyday, but approaching week three, it was time to get serious. So today was the day!
My homestay is an apartment, and there isn't a washer/dryer. I had been notified since day one of living here that when the situation arrose, I would simply say, "I need to do laundry" and then I would receive some money to go do so at a laundromat (laverie) around the corner. No prob, right?
WRONG! I hadn't seen my host mom since Friday (when she ran out of the house to an appointment, reminding me as she went that I must only take showers before dinner, never after) and hadn't had the opportunity to ask for laundry instructions. Fortunately, my housemate was up and about earlier this Sunday morning than I was, had managed to receive said laundry instructions, and could walk me through the process.
Ok, so this isn't awful. I just have to gather up my dirty clothes and walk over to the laundromat.
But this girl did not bring a laundry bag with her to France (and that would probably be one of the last things, besides a hairdryer, that I would ever travel with, by the way).
Thankfully, Housemate has a spare XL Ziploc bag for me. All the clothes fit, but I'm worried that the bag will rip. So I stick it all in my one suitcase (with wheels, kinda) and we head out to la laverie.
BUT THE MACHINES ARE VERY CONFUSING!
In France, you don't pick your load size based on "small" or "medium" or even "super." No. Here you do it by kilograms.
DAMN YOU METRIC SYSTEM! YOU HAVE FOILED MY PLAN ONCE MORE!
Each machine is labeled either "10 kg," "6 kg," or "8 kg" based on how much your clothes weigh. Because everyone automatically weighs their laundry. Yes, of course. What a natural thing to do.
Let me tell you that the 6 kilo machine is very, very small or très, très petite. One of these tiny loads costs 3€20 to run, and that doesn't even include detergent and drying!
Since I have darks and lights, I decide to do two loads in two 6 kilo machines. So I load up the washers and stare at it. I am completely lost and don't know what to do. Thank goodness again for Housemate! She takes me through the process - which contains many more confusing steps.
1) Fork over 40 Eurocents (centimes) into shiny wall-mounted control panel
2) Press one shiny button (yes, only one) and receive laundry detergent from second wall-mounted unit
3) Remove small plastic Solo cup that contains your laundry detergent and deposit detergent into washing machine
4) Fork over more money into blinking wall-mounted laundry robot
5) Press one shiny button (just one at a time, now) corresponding to your correct washing machine
6) TOUCH NOTHING ELSE and the machine begins on its own
7) Repeat steps 4-6 for second washing machine
Then me, housemate, and my annoying suitcase walk back home to wait for laundry being done. End of Laundry Wars Episode I: The Laverie Menace.
When we return, there are people inside who are also doing their laundry. At first I panic because we were gone longer than the time it takes to do one (two) loads of wash and this huge sign hangs overhead:
It declares that "People waiting have the right to take out your laundry." And we thought Sundays at DU were bad.
Fortunately, no one had to resort to removing my laundry and was going about their own business. But they seemed equally confused about the process, which made me feel better. If French people can't figure out their own damn laundromats, then I am not obliged to either!
Apparently, the spin cycle does not exist in France. When I went to remove my clothes from the washer, they were all heavy and soaked. Not dripping wet, but still decidedly wet. Realizing that air dry will probably not work on such clothes, I go ahead and pay more money to dry my clothes.
THIS IS THE MOST INFURIATING PART!
For 70 Eurocents, you get a mere 10 minutes of dryer time! So I think to myself, "Ok France, you nuclear-power loving, energy-conscious, progressive, environmentalists, you. Your giant dryers will give me my precious 70 centimes' worth of dry clothes."
OH HOW WRONG I WAS.
As it sounds, 10 minutes is not enough time in the dryer. My clothes came out damp.
Well, we found the French equivalent of the spin cycle.
Having lived in France for a whopping three weeks now, I've walked some. Just some. And I've seen some clothes hanging out to dry. Just some. Out of some windows and on some clotheslines. Just some. So I think to myself again, "Ok France, you voyeuristic, money-saving, traditionalist, small town green movement freaks: Your provincial ways of drying clothes will work for me, too"
WRONG AGAIN! I MUST STOP THINKING TO MYSELF.
(Note to self: stop thinking to self. Wait - no! - stop it, stop it...)
Back at home I go to hang up my clothes around my room, since I have no clothesline. I thought I finally understood the overwhelming plethora of cheap hangers I found in my closet that first day! Here I am, feeling so Snow White about using the fresh air of a Sunday in the South of France to dry my clothes and being all eco when my host mom comes home.
She takes one look at my room (the doors are open so I can air dry even more clothes the French way) and says, "Oh no no. We don't do that. You can't have your clothes hanging around all over the place."
Well, she said that, but in French.
So I get all apologetic, insist that the dryer at the laundromat didn't work, but nope. Still gotta take down all my hard work. She gave me money that it cost to do my laundry (actually she gave me less than it cost, just 5€ because that's all I'm supposed to spend, apparently. Well not when you gotta dry your clothes for 5,987,120 bajillion Euros!!!!!) and that was it.
Very French in her way of just stating facts - what we do and don't do - and leaving it at that. If you don't understand, well, sucks to suck.
Yes. Yes it does suck to suck. Because my clothes will now never, ever, not in a million years get dry. See new method below:
1) Keep clothes on random, assorted, sketchy hangers
2) Stick in closet
3) Pray that they get dry somehow
4) Save lots of money, earn lots of frustration
End of Laundry Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clothes
Sadly, I don't think that Laundry Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Steph will take place today. But when I do somehow figure out how to dry my goddamn clothes without spending approximately $9,278,074 trillion (not the so-rumored 5 bucks) do not doubt that I won't inform you!
If you remain uninformed, I have probably not discovered this magical mystery method. And it will be more like Laundry Wars Episode IV: No Hope.
Before I leave you, I'd just like to share some evidence that totally supports (read between the lines here, people) my host mom's claim that hanging your clothes to dry does not occur:
xxo, S
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