Laundry Day

Oh laundry in a third world country. One of the many new joys I’ve been introduced to in Nicaragua. After three weeks of living in dust, sweat, and who knows what else, I bit the bullet and decided it was time to learn how to clean my clothes. My roommate spent Sunday morning teaching me. You would think she would be annoyed by having to teach the gringo how to do her laundry, but I’m pretty sure she enjoyed every minute of the look of shock on my face, the complaints about my sore arms, and my ultimate decision to only wash half of what was dirty. And if there was any doubt of her pleasure, it was erased when I looked at my camera and saw she had taken about 50 action shots of the debacle.


So needless to say, there are no washing machines in Nicaragua. Instead, we have pilas…otherwise known as washboards. It goes a little something like this: place clothing item on board, douse with quasi-clean water from outdoor sink, scrub with bar of soap, scrub clothes over board, rinse with more quasi-clean water, squeeze, dry on line. Sounds simple? Try doing it to a pair of dirty jeans that weigh about 20 pounds soaking wet.

Now I’m not complaining…when in Rome, right? It’s not necessarily the process that’s the worst part. It’s that after you’ve spent two hours washing about five shirts and a pair of pants, you come back to the laundry line to find your dry clothes looking just about as dirty as before. The only difference? They’re now stiff as a board. Who knew that fabric softener had a purpose other than making your clothes smell good?

Some photos for your viewing pleasure…

 (Notice the lack of clothing to reflect three weeks...I got tired)