One of the joys of travelling is noticing how familiar things take on a different look in a different context. Take, for instance, that humble workhorse, the clothes-washing machine. As anyone who has spent much time abroad can tell you, washing machines familiar to our North American readership, the top-loaders with a basket big enough for two toddlers, are rarely to be found outside their native shores. The rest of the world has front-loading models, located in the kitchen rather than in a separate room. In our current flat, for example, we have an Indesit, which looks much like those we have seen elsewhere.
North Americans, coming from a big country, fall victim to an obsession with size when we get to Europe. So we are feeling anxious about saying that the first thing we always notice about washing machines is that they are about half the size we expect. But it’s true: we do. (There is a minimalist lesson here, about how many clothes you need. Europeans tend to have many fewer, and so smaller closets, clothes hampers, etc… With our minimalist wardrobe, we fit right in!) There is a maximum weight of clothes to put in, though since we are fuzzier on kilograms than we’re willing to admit in mixed company, we always aim low. Not least because experimentation has taught us that these machines are temperamental, even if you do happen to have instructions in a language that you read.
Using Unfamiliar Washing Machines
For instance: there are usually a bewildering number of cycles in typical European washing machines (ten in our current model, including one called ‘Jeans’). Each comes with a recommended temperature: the coolest is 30C (= 86F), the hottest 90C (= 194F); you can use cold water, but it is not recommended. (We don’t know why either.) The length of time for the cycles ranges from ‘short’ (80 minutes) to long (2 hours, 45 minutes). We typically opt for one of the two shortest ones, although we are not confident we understand the precise differences between them.
Also, that long cycle is for whites. The idea seems to be that if you keep clothes in there for long enough at a high enough temperature, you will simply exhaust the dirt out of them. This cycle in Germany is called ‘Kochwasch’ (=’cook-wash’). One of us still has dreams about how white his t-shirts were in the grand old days when he lived in Munich and boiled them all day long.
Or so we have always thought. in Oxford we had a washer with instructions (thanks again, awesome landlords!) and that has been revelatory. It has been enormously helpful to see how the pros do it, and we feel really good about our washing for the first time in forever. We had a washer in Edinburgh that disregarded its own cycles and washed everything for four or even five hours at a time. In any case, the clothes smelled right at the end, so we took that as a win; we’re not picky and we spend most of our time with each other anyway.
The Plus Side
We hope none of the above sounded like complaints: we wouldn’t trade our life, odd appliances and all, for anything. And the biggest difference of all, the thing we love about these beauties, is how little water they use compared to their behemoth American siblings. Another energy-saving trick common outside of the U.S. is eschewing a dryer; you just put them on a rack or hang them outside and hope for warm dry weather. (This works better in Spain than in the U.K.) Sometimes there is a drying closet located over your hot-water heater that speedily does the job. We have seen these several times and always been covetous. And if you’re wondering, yes, even with so little water, these energy-efficient machines get clothes sparkling clean. And yes, we do nearly always have laundry drying somewhere, especially in the U.K. It makes us feel like we belong.
When we used to travel with children (2 boys), I used to look upon wash day (at least once a week) as an ordeal but learned to think of it as a cultural experience. Just trying to find a a do-it-yourself laundromat in Stockholm. (There isn’t one.) I learned over 20 years ago where there is one in Zurich, which tramline it is on, how much it was going to cost (about $10 a load to wash and dry), and how long it was going to take. (They did have large machines thankfully). I still remember doing wash in Sapporo, Japan, Beaune, France, and Dublin. I remember having an animated conversation with a man in Beaune and understanding about 10% of what he said. Needless to say, he must of thought I understood because he kept talking and talking.
Thanks for writing, Mary Jo! In our student days we used laundromats, and they were always entertaining. Stay tuned for Istanbul, where we can’t seem to find a flat with a washer; we may be back to those communal times. Also, impressive to do laundry only once a week with kids!
We had a washing machine in Oxford with the setting “worn once”. I still haven’t gotten over it.
There is an admirable precision here in so many things…
All I can say is, you have been extremely lucky in the washer department; never, not once in 40+ years, have I found in my travels a washing machine overseas that worked well. No, I take it back: once in Australia, there was a good washer. But otherwise, it’s been horrible, stupid, poorly designed puddle-sloshers, ugh, that often somehow made the clothes dirtier than when I put them in. So I am not only thoroughly delighted for you, but more hopeful than ever that The Impossible Dream can come true for me someday too! (And I want to send your landlords a bouquet.)
Thanks for writing! This is our first good washer ever, too. We are hoping it’s our cleverness finally kicking in, but we might be up for a heap o’ trouble next time around…
Anything below 90 minutes is just a mere soaking with those European washing beauties. Eau de sweat, anyone?! I say avoid them altogether and patent the “air-washer/dryer” equivalent of “air-fryers!”
I’m taking a bunch of college kiddos to Aix-en-Provence in about a week and have impressed upon them the virtues (and reality) of wearing the same article of clothing more than once between wears. Never have I seen so many shocked faces.
By the way, those so-called “kitchen implements” are primitive, yet effective torture devices. So, please be kind to each other!
Preach! We are not above dousing ourselves with cologne when necessary. Talking of perfume, have fun in France!