The Wringer

Or give it to your mother, she'll know what to do...

“Aye, Isma, hay que cambiar tu jersey, está manchado.” I tell Ismael that he needs to change his rugby, as there was an enormous grease stain on the front.

 “Acabo de ponermelo, está limpio.” Isma informs me that it is brand, spanking clean and then he adds, “Es que nunca en mi vida he tenido la ropa tan manchada de grasa.  Es que mi mamá nunca dejó manchas en la ropa limpia.  Hay que limpiar las manchas mejor.”

“¿Cómo que quieres que yo limpie cada mancha mejor?” As the blood is starting to fill my head due to the anger, I ask Isma how exactly am I supposed to clean each stain better as I think to myself that he has obviously whacked his head at some point by confusing me with his mother or the cha cha (*) and that I wasn’t the one who got the stain there in the first place.  How should I know that he decided to use his shirt as a napkin?

Isma implied in that moment that my laundering skills are about as up to par as my cooking skills and that apparently, his mother never left stains on his clean clothes.  I beg to differ as I think that my laundering skills are that of a professional dry cleaner.  I have been washing and ironing my clothes since I was able to reach the knobs of the washer and dryer which was a test that I managed to pass when I was about 11 years old.  I remember my mom lining us up in front of the washer to see if we could reach them, she made it seem like it was a great privilege and that washing your own clothes would be fun.  Tuesdays were my day to wash and dry my clothes.  I grew up under the motto that “if you dirtied it, you cleaned it” as we had to put our dirty dishes in the dishwasher as well.

Since I have been living in Madrid, all I do is wash clothes, it could almost be considered a compulsive habit.  The household washers in Europe are generally very small.  If you were to compare a European washer to an American one, you would almost think that it was part of a child’s kitchenette.  Ours can wash up to 5-8 kilos; about 2-4 button down shirts, a pair of pants, 2-4 t-shirts and a bunch of socks and underwear fits in one load.  Mind you, if you are a couple and both dress in business clothes and casual clothes and gym clothes, that would be about a load of laundry to do every other day, now that is a lot of laundry to do.

Integrated Washer Dryer -
fits right under the counter, in between
cabinets.

Ismael and I are fortunate enough to have a washer- dryer combo.  Dryers in Spain didn’t exist up till recently and are still considered to be un lujo as it is such a warm climate, they aren’t entirely necessary.  I find them necessary because who wants to dry themselves with a piece of cardboard or a lufa?  Who wants to wear stretched out clothing?  I like my towels fluffy and I like clothes to fit.  When clothing comes out of the washer, it looks like it has been through the wringer about 10 times and if you were to hang them on the clothes line, when they are dried stiff they will undoubtedly have to be ironed, creating more housework.

When I studied my year abroad in Málaga, Juanita, my host mother, or the señora de limpieza washed and ironed all of my clothes and I mean all of my clothes, even my undies.  I remember Juanita asking me where my dirty clothes were after I had been there for about 2 weeks.  I had been stuffing them all into plastic grocery bags and was trying to figure out how to ask her the “where, when, how, and what” I had to do to get clean clothes in Spanish.  She made me show her.   So up the stairs we go and I show her the grocery bags full of dirty clothes.  She takes the bags and I follow.  Down the stairs, through the kitchen and out to the back.

“Sarah, yo te lavo la ropa.  Nadie toca mi máquina.” She told me she was going to wash my clothes and that nobody touches her machine.  I am feeling totally humiliated.  It’s not that my clothes are totally soiled but I hadn’t had anybody other than me wash my clothes for as long as I could remember.  I kept trying to tell her in my crappy Spanish that I would wash them myself but she blatantly ignored me.

I remember eating lunch later and turning my head and suddenly feeling totally mortified.  There they were, I could see them right through the kitchen window-it’s like they were giving me the finger, singing, “na ni, na ni, boo boo!” my socks, my underwear and the rest of my garb blowing in the wind.

A few days go by and I try my hardest not to think about the fact that my host mother is washing my clothes, that my clothes are blowing over Málaga for all to see when one day after class, there are several nice piles of clothing on my bed along with a hamper in the corner.  My underwear was even ironed.  “Wow, that’s pretty nice.”

I must say my year in Málaga was quite the luxury.  I had my own room, my own bathroom (we won’t talk about how I thought the bidet was a foot washer and the perfect place to shave my legs), my own deck with a view of the Mediterranean Sea, my clothes were washed, I was always served hot, freshly cooked Mediterranean food, the house had a pool, gazebo, and two gardens; basically I lived like a Spanish Princess for an entire academic year.  It was nice.

It did take me a while to overcome my vergüenza of having my clothing washed but after a month, I decided to get over it.  Spaniards, on the other hand, have a very different mentality about living in the lap of luxury.  Per usual, I did a survey and my results were quite mind-boggling.

My survey was not limited to my co-workers this time.  I actually surveyed several friends and it was done via email and through personal interviews over a copita de vino.  I simply asked four questions: until what age did they live with their parents (ie after studying, etc), if they lived in a rented or owned apartment, who they live with, when did they start washing their clothing and if they iron their own clothing.

1.     ¿Hasta qué edad viviste con los padres? O sea, ¿viviste con los papas hasta después de los estudios universitarios, hasta casarte, etc.?  (Necesito detalles)

2.     Vives en un piso alquilado o comprado - ¿Con amigos, cónyuge, novio?

3.     ¿Cuándo empezaste a lavar tu propia ropa? 

4.     ¿Planchas tu propia ropa?

I must say that I actually started the first half of this blog about a month or so ago after I got a forward with the clothing label that is at the top of the blog.  My friend wrote, “It should say, Give it to Sarah…” I actually found it so humorous, so Spanish, and it sooo made me think, “What I have gotten myself into?”  I got all excited and decided to react with my survey.  I got so overwhelmed with the responses that I actually felt that I was on deadline to get my thesis done and I wasn’t sure how to finish this blog entry or how to even begin to justify their answers.  As one friend wrote:

“Mis respuestas en tu correo, la verdad es que las leo y me dan miedo.  Tía me doy cuenta que los españoles vamos un poco retrasados.” She says that she has responded to my answers and that truthfully, after reading her answers, it frightens her and that she has realized that Spaniards are a bit behind the times.  She lived with her parents until she was 26 and didn’t wash her clothes until she was sent to work abroad.  I think that it precisely the reason I am struggling to finish this.  The responses have shocked me as they have frightened her.

I think that it is generally fair to state that North Americans, at least a high percentage, start doing their laundry when they head off to the University at age 18.  Parents, grandparents, inheritance or the dreadful student loans like Sallie Shit (aka Sallie Mae) pay for the university.  So with that said, some Spaniards have the same conditions as North American university students although the vast majority live at home while studying, as it is cheaper and more comfortable.  The few that share the same conditions as Americans, out of the people I surveyed, is because they came to study in Madrid from other Providences.  Generally speaking, upon graduation and ready to enter the labor market, Spaniards have the tendency to “over-extend” living with their parents long after graduation, and I mean LOOooooNG.

According to an article published in La Razón, the number of Europeans from the ages of 18 to 34 still living with their parents is 46% higher in Spain than the rest of Europe.  The Eurostat has confirmed the fact that many Spaniards live with their parents and have no intention of moving out, such as one of the people I surveyed and surprisingly enough, many didn’t even bat an eyelash when they responded to my questions.

“¿Hasta qué edad viviste con tus padres?” (Until when did you live with your parents?)

“¡Qué va! Yo sigo viviendo con mis papas.” He’s 46 and still living with his parents. You don’t have to go back and re-read that – he is 46.

“¿Lavas tu propia ropa?” I ask him if he washes his own clothes.

“Mi mamá no me deja tocar la máquina.  Voy a una lavandería y pido ‘el completo’.” His mom doesn’t let him touch her washer, won’t wash his clothes so he takes his dirty clothes to a Launder and asks for the works which cost him a mere 10€.  This not touching the máquina must be a Spanish thing!  No wonder the women get stuck washing their kids clothes!

“¿Planchas?” Do you iron, I ask.

“Sí, hago gambas a la plancha siempre.” He says, “Yes, I always cook shrimp on the griddle.”

Is he for real?  I felt like I had just found a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.  He was precisely the stereotypical Spanish man that refuses to leave the care of his mother although his mom is a bit atypical by making him take his washing elsewhere.  I wasn’t sure if I should laugh or shake my head but I really couldn’t say anything at all because the word plancha in Spanish is an iron and it is also a hotplate/griddle in English.

I think that it is understandable for a person who is unemployed or a current graduate to live with their parents while looking for a job but to have a job and to continue to live with them is a bit hard for me to digest.  According to the article en La Razón, the Eurostat specifically says that living with parents does not reduce poverty levels and states that 15% of those living with their parents are in poverty risk; they are also at risk of having no concept of taking care of themselves.  Also, if everything is already done for you, what do you strive for?

Another friend responded that she is 36, still lives at her parents’ home and only washes her clothes when she is on business.  She adds,

“Es decir, soy el prototipo del joven español con complejo de Peter Pan.” She wrote that she is the stereotypical, young Spaniard with the “Peter Pan Complex”.  It sounds funny – who wouldn’t want to be Peter Pan?  Is that what it is?  A Peter Pan Complex?  I see it as a massive lack of independence.  How will this “complex” affect future Spanish generations?

My friend who is frightened by her responses lives in a purchased flat with her boyfriend and 7-month-old boy.  She says that she is going to make her best efforts to raise her son differently but she isn’t sure how she is going to do it.

One interviewee actually recognized that she is not proud of her current situation.  The fact is that she left Tenerife where she never had to wash or iron clothing to study in Madrid at age 19 (she is 30).  She lived in a colegio mayor (dorm), and then with 2 of her best friends, completed two Masters and after living the sindrome de la bolsita (bringing a sack of clothes to the boy friend’s house) for two years, they decided to rent a flat together, she currently does all of the house chores and the laundry.  She found it difficult to assume these responsibilities at first and has a hard time accepting that she is living her mother’s role, she adds, “Si eso no es machismo español, no sé qué es.” But is it really machismo español?  Or is it because it is part of the on-going cultural cycle that the woman in Spain must be in the kitchen and do all of the housework? 

Three out of the several men I surveyed, currently live with their wives in purchased flats and they share all the household chores as a couple.   On average, they moved out of the house at age 25, “todo un pipiolo” (as a kid).  One stated that he even irons his own clothes as he is “un tío con caracter” (a guy with personality), he also added, “buahh, buahh quiero a mi mamaaaa!” (he loves his mom but who doesn’t?).  One woman said that she wouldn’t dare iron her husbands clothing as he irons better and prefers to do it himself. 

Meanwhile, two of the women I surveyed wouldn’t dare wash their clothing and both pay a cha cha to wash and iron it all.  One of them lives in her parents’ flat as they have retired and live outside the city, all of her expenses are paid.  She owns her own flat and rents it, she states, “porque como en mi barrio de toda la vida, no voy a estar en ningún sitio.” She isn’t going to be better in any other place other than her lifelong neighborhood.  

Out of all of the Spaniards I surveyed, only one friend started doing her laundry at the tender age of 15 when she was in high school.  She lived with her mother and had to do chores.  She currently lives with her boyfriend and their son in a purchased flat.  She says that they both do laundry and that she tries not to buy clothing that doesn’t need to be ironed and if it does need to be ironed, if she doesn’t have time, she leaves it for her partner or the cha cha. 

My husband says he has never had to wash clothing in his life and that he never will, hence why it seems that I have a compulsive disorder with washing the clothes.  When he lived in Colombia and Chile, he had a cleaner come everyday.  I remember when he lived in Italy, he came back to Madrid every Friday and dropped off a suitcase full of dirty clothes at his mother’s.  She spent the entire weekend washing and ironing, poor Carmina!  I told Carmina about the stain incident mentioned above and that I told Ismael that he should bring his clothes over to his mother’s since she washes it so well, her eyes almost fell out of her head out of disbelief!  She recommended some stain removers and told me how to scrub stains that aren’t mine.

I think that Ismael has done two loads of laundry in his life.  I happened to be away so the first time he used liquid dish soap and was so engrossed in his video games that he didn’t notice the foam extending through the entire living room.  The second time, he washed a red blanket with all of his white work shirts.  I took them to the best dry cleaner in Israel and the guy just shook his head-450 shekels later, they were like new.  That’s about 90 Euros.  I, honestly, prefer to do the laundry, although I have had my occasional run-in, like the time I washed Ismael’s passport.  I am convinced that men claim they don’t know how to do laundry or iron so that the women get stuck doing it.

I, admittedly, have a cleaner.  Her name is Pilar.  She is wonderful.  I got a cleaner because of the crazy boss Loopy (see older blog).  He was driving me nuts and I was exhausted and at wits end.  One weekend while I was cleaning the windows, Ismael pointed out that I had missed a spot, meanwhile, he was still in pjs, playing videogames.  Pilar doesn’t wash the clothes, perhaps it is the “hands off my máquina syndrome” but she folds and irons it all.  It is a total relief.  I no longer spend my weekends like Cinderella. 

A recent survey by Coca Cola indicated that Spain is the second happiest country in all of Europe, followed by Romania.  I am not surprised, if I could be Peter Pan till I am 46 and not have to wash my clothes, I would be happy as a clam too!  I am not sure how this cultural phenomenon of not washing your own clothing or living at home till you are almost over-the-hill is going to effect future generations or the Spanish Economy but I do think that if Spain could change their ways, share the responsibilities, it would take away some of the machismo, create confidence and as my friend stated, build character.  Any task at hand is always more entertaining and takes less time when done together.   

This is my mom's laundry room - Please note the size of the washer and separate dryer.
It would be a total luxury in Europe.  Bolita, my pooch, doesn't look too happy!

*CHA CHA: el cha cha que se baila o la mujer a la que a parte de pagarle un dineral, hay que hacerle un monumento por salvarte de las pelusas y las discusiones matrimoniales y darle un libro de instrucciones para que por Dios no ponga lejía en la ropa de color.

*CHA CHA: as defined by a friend, is the dance or the woman that apart from paying her a lot of money, a monument should be built in her honor for saving your from the dust bunnies and arguments with your partner and in the meantime, gives a book with instructions that bleach should not be added to the load of colors.

**Quiero agradecer a todos que me han ayudado con este blog – sabes quien eres y agradezco mucho tu participación en mi encuesta.  Bss mil**