On Wednesday, I attempted to do the laundry for the first time (Martello was so kind as to give me plenty to work with, having taken over in his luggage a full bag of dirty clothing). Now having a washing machine inside the apartment is a huge step up for Trofie Wife, who spent the last five years trudging to the local Laundromat where the Russian and/or Polish ladies always yelled at her for doing something wrong. Thus I was over the moon at the opportunity to wash my clothing in the comfort of my abode. Foreigners are warned (via a great book that Martello purchased entitled, Living, Studying, and Working in Italy: Everything You Need to Know to Live La Dolce Vita) that Italy does not have terrific electrical wiring and that no other appliances should be plugged in while the washer is in use. Due to the wattage problem, dryers are very rare in Italy, thus leading to the picturesque scenes in Italian villages countrywide of laundry hanging off the terraza. I was pretty proud of myself for figuring out the machine’s directions, which were written entirely in Italian. But boy was I in for a surprise.
I thought the cycle was over, so I opened the door and attempted to unload the laundry and prepare it for drying on the cool drying contraption. However, much to my surprise, there was still a huge puddle of water left in the machine. I removed the sopping wet clothing and whisked it away to the bathroom for eventual (hopefully before December) drying. But now what to do with the residual water? Quick thinking (take that, BF!) led me to hunt for the soup ladle and a bucket. As you can see from the illustration, I ladled out the remaining water into a bucket and then dumped it in the sink.
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Briefly again on the subject of drying (mentioned in an earlier post), our above-the-sink drying lines are super cool. I get to use a shepherd-like staff to pull down the lines. I doubt that the outside lines are as cool, but I do not think I will be using them until the weather returns to warm and sunny (which, as noted earlier, likely will not be for several months). I should also note that our laundry smells like my sister’s loads in Zurich, though she assures me that she has recently changed detergent brands and thus we will not run the risk of smelling identical.
On Thursday, the domestic adventures continued when the gas man came to replace our empty propane tank with a new one. This turn of events culminated in us having a working stove, pictured here along with the lighter (in red).
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With our stove and oven now working, I was eager to get to work exploring the kitchen. I’m very proud of the very first espresso that I made on the stove in our Moka. Bella!
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Our taste for gelato was of course quite developed prior to our arrival. But amazingly enough, what we’ve learned thus far is that Italy is a place where the store brand gelato actually tastes fantastico (and is easy on the wallet)!
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One final note: I took a brief sojourn outside in order to snap some exterior shots of our casa. On my way out, I saw an elderly gentleman walking with braced canes on both arms. I attempted to help him with his recycling (which he was pushing with one of his canes), but he was persistent in doing it himself (well that’s at least what I seemed to have comprehended…). Quite impressive! I then wandered on to the last of the grocery stores in town. I now feel like I’ve mastered the food scene here, well except for the market, which I’m excited to visit tomorrow! The day ended with brief rolling power outages on account of high winds and stormy weather. Martello’s office went dark for 20 straight minutes; the computers had to run on backup generators!
Next up: A step outside Arenzano.
Baci e gelato,
Martello e Trofie Wife
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