No, I haven’t moved into a doll house. Nope, I’m referring to the “washer” that came with my apartment. OK, it’s a bit of an exaggeration to say it’s a toy, but it sure looks like one. Completely made of blue, gray, and white plastic, it’s about 15” deep, by 27” wide, with two tubs, and about 30” high. Rated for only 5 kilograms (11lbs) of dirty laundry, it is, as the say here, “chiquito.”
When Rafael showed me the apartment, I scoffed at it. I’d never seen such a thing, and doubted it could even wash clothes. “I need a real washing machine,” I said to him. Or something to that effect. And he agreed, but noted it might take some time. Surprise, surprise. Rafael is a lovely guy, but he’s not exactly the world’s greatest landlord.
Initially I refused to even try it. So I brought my first load of laundry to a place on Calle Bajío which I had used in the past. That was a disaster. Truly. The laundry came back smelling really nasty, worse than when I had dropped it off. I suspected that due to Covid, the owner was financially pinched and was skimping on, or perhaps entirely omitting, laundry detergent. Dirty laundry in a dirty machine without detergent seemed like the only, and very-disgusting answer. Well, I wasn’t going back there. The other place nearby is run by a surly woman who’s attitude when you show up seems to be, “Why in God’s name are you talking to me?” Though it’s plainly obvious what her business is, I once had the temerity to say to her, “You do do laundry here, right?” That didn’t exactly improve matters.
So I was forced to use the machine I had. As it turns out, it’s a manual washer, not the automatic washer that we’re almost universally used to in the USA. In fact, so universal is the automatic washer, that no one even knows what “manual washer” means. So let me help you. “Manual washer” means the control system is you, the user.
So what exactly does this entail? Well, the machine agitates in one tub, and spins in another. The only vaguely “automatic” feature is a timer for each. That’s it. I have to do the rest of the work. ALL of it. To fill the wash tank, I have to open a faucet on the wall, and then watch until the water gets to an appropriate level, and then turn off the valve. Yup. My toilet fills more automatically. In my case, since I don’t want to wash in ice-cold water, I fill a bucket in the sink, then dump it into the wash tub. After that I turn a dial which starts a small, flat agitator with tiny, 1” high paddles. Initially I didn’t think this agitator would do anything at all, besides swish the water gently. Boy, was I wrong!
It does a great job of tying all my clothing into Gordian knots. In fact, it ties the clothing into such tight knots that I don’t like to let it run for more than a couple of minutes before I reach a hand in (with the machine stopped) and untangle things before resuming. I have found that the gentle cycle is a bit better than the regular setting, but it still threatens to pull off shirt sleeves, dismember pants, and God knows what else.
Once the wash has been agitated for sufficient time, I then have to flip a knob so that the water drains. After that, I have to transfer the dripping laundry to the other tub, which is a separate spin “cycle.” And because it’s only about 10” in diameter, it’s impossible to balance on the first try. So usually it’ll spin for about 20 seconds, bang vigorously against the side, then I have to stop it, try to remember which side was the heavy one, and then rearrange the laundry. After that it will usually spin OK.
And then it’s time to transfer the damp clothes back to the wash tub, and start all over for the rinse “cycle.” Don’t forget to flip the drain knob back to “ligero,” or otherwise you’ll be draining the water you’re trying to fill. Because of the tiny capacity of this machine and the amount of work involved, I usually end up doing laundry a couple of times per week. Otherwise I’d literally end up having an entire “laundry day.”
It could be worse, though. At least I’m not beating my clothes against a rock in a creek somewhere, right?
What’s your laundry horror story?
El Gringo Suelto 
I have a rather sophisticated washing machine in the utility room on the upper terrace, but no dryer. Even though it is simple to use, the lack of a dryer is bothersome. Hanging out laundry makes the place look like an Italian brothel.
I find that sending my laundry out is the preferable option. The trick, as you note, is hiring a reliable laundress. I have. When The Virus caused her to lose most of her tourist trade, I paid a set amount each week as an additional tip to help keep her in business. It was not an outlandish amount — merely about $20 (US). A reliable laundress is a joy to find and a tragedy to lose. (Good grief. I am turning into the Dowager Countess.)
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Steve, perhaps there is a reasonably priced way to ship your idle washer to Kim. It would be a kindness.
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Felipe: and it is a kindness for you to suggest as much, jeje. I could put Steve’s washer next to mine, and they’d be a sort of mechanical, Mexican “odd couple.” Saludos!
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Hola Steve: Laundress, countess, you sound like a Victorian novelist, hehe. And I’ll second you on the hanging stuff do dry. for most things it doesn’t bother me, but it definitely leaves something to be desired when it comes to towels, knit shirts, etc. I used to make fun of my Mexican Ex for ironing knit shirts. I may yet live to see the day when I become the butt of my own jokes. Saludos!
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Becoming the butt of my own jokes would be a step up the social ladder for me.
My mother would be horrified at the fact that we both own top-loading washing machines. She lectured each of the administrators who showed us around potential apartments for her when she discovered their laundry rooms were equipped only with top-loader washers. They are all on her long list of things to be derided.
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Do tell. What is the problem with top-loader washers?
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Haha…what an odd thing to focus on. I’d imagine that most older folks would prefer top-loaders as they don’t have to bend over to deal with the laundry. For the record, I’m the owner of a 20-something year old top-loader in Boston, and I much prefer it to a front-loader.
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We had one like that back in the late 70’s. My Mum used to borrow it from a neighbour across the street who was afraid of it. It was basic but in the end we bought it and it lasted for years. Washing bedsheets was a pain in the rump as they became twisted as you mentioned. Up to that time we used to send our linens, table cloths and sheet laundry out in those days.
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Hey Colm!
Yeah, I’m afraid to wash my bed sheets. Not to mention the trouble of drying them. But I’m soon going to have to do both sets. Where did you grow up? Cheers!
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I’ll give you a few clues, here are a few to keep you guessing!
I grew up in a city famous for a black drink with a cream foamy topping, it has been said that it tastes best when drunk within a mile of the river where it was brewed. The Vikings built a city on the banks of the same river.
It has a university celebrated for a well known book from the ninth century as well as it’s magnificent library.
The city has hosted the relics of the patron saint of engagement since 1836 although Madrid has also laid claims to him too! (Which is always possible with relics, they can be spread around)
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Ah, Dublin! But those are the bones of St. Valentine, no? You obviously have an Irish name, but apparently St. Agnes, whose bones lie in Rome, is (also?) a saint of engagement. So I had to do a little work first. I’ve spent a little time in Dublin. Charming place. My former employer’s European Headquarters is there, right on the quay, and I’d go over there several times a year for business. It’s a pity I didn’t see more of the city, though. Lots of famous people and places. I’m a big Oscar Wilde fan too. Thanks for stopping by again. Cheers!
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At least the landlord didn’t give you a clean bucket and a new toilet plunger, telling you it was the ecological version of a washer.
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Hehehe…indeed. He’s pretty green-minded. Don’t give him any ideas. Saludos and thanks for your comment!
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I have no washer horror story. The washer I bought 18 years ago when I moved into my new house still works fine. And automatically. First off, your landlord ain’t gonna buy another washer. What you received is what I call a “sí Mexicano.” It can mean either maybe or no. It usually means no. In your case it means no. I’ve seen those things in stores. It appears to be one level above washing clothes in a river.
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Indeed. One step above washing in the river. If there were a river nearby, that’s probably what I’d be offered. As for the “si, Mexicano,” I think in January the landlord is going to find out what is the “no, Gringo.” There’s a boatload of apartments for rent here, 2-4 on every block in the city. I can find a better deal with a better washer. Saludos and thanks for stopping by!
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