(Do) Air Your Dirty Laundry in Public

Is it weird that I enjoy doing laundry now? And I don't just mean popping a load in the washer and then moving it to the dryer 45 minutes later. I mean hand washing items and hanging them on a line to dry in the sun.

We do have a washing machine in our rental now, but last year in Mexico, we didn't. We either had to walk to a laundromat with duffle bags full of clothes and towels, or we could hand wash items in the concrete basin in our patio. The basin had a faucet and built-in washboard. I would soak my items in a bucket of water and detergent, returning to agitate it every 20-30 minutes. The air in Oaxaca was so dry, with temperatures averaging 75F every day, that our laundry dried on a clothesline in 30 minutes flat! Last year was the first time since studying abroad in college that I had a need to hand-wash my own clothes. While I admit, wringing them out is equivalent to a full arm-day work-out, doing a handful of items at a time was somehow calming. The sense of peace and gratification that came from doing the work myself was novel.

I don't regularly hand-wash full loads now, but like most Greek households, we have a washing machine and no dryer. So we hang dry our laundry on the patio. This afternoon I was taking down our linens from the south-facing patio of our apartment, and the woman across the way was also doing the same thing. We smiled and nodded to each other as we went about our business. We were close enough to have a conversation but did not speak. We didn't have to because we were experiencing the same thing together. But we very well could have had a pleasant conversation, had I worked up the courage to test out my Greek. The act of this mundane ritual somehow brings me a different sort of satisfaction than pulling warm clothes out of my dryer ever did. And doing it "with" my neighbor, adds another layer of interest.

Of course, another factor at play here is the fact that I now have more time on my hands to do laundry, and the energy to do it intentionally. I admit, I also don't have a whole household's worth of clothing to, so of course that helps. But there's more to it than just having the time... The simple act of hanging up a bedsheet or a t-shirt one clothespin at a time, positioning it in a way that allows it to catch the most sun, and then removing those pins one-by-one hours later, is grounding. The fact that I can look out my window and see three or four households with their colorful blankets, jeans, socks, and yes- underwear- waving in the wind gives me a shared sense of community. A sense that we are all in this together.

I can also learn a bit about them based on what's hanging on the line. Is it all jeans and black hoodies? Teenagers live there for sure...Or are there children's clothes in vibrant colors? Nursing scrubs? Are their towels vibrant colors or neutral tones? The idea that you can see what everyone wears or sleeps in is rather intimate. Not that I am a voyeur, but I do take notice, especially of the homes we walk by every day on our street. People are not hiding behind closed doors or tall gates. Life is happening on their doorsteps and outside my window. Regardless of our occupation or background, we all need to have clean clothes. And given the high price of electricity in Europe (about 3x the rates in the U.S.), combined with a relatively low average wage in Greece, it is simply not economical for most people to have a dryer.

In the U.S., people love their privacy and independence. The freedom to do whatever you want behind closed doors, including amassing giant wardrobes and washing multiple loads of laundry a week, at all hours of the day and night. Our need for privacy is so consuming that I noticed in my community we avoided answering the doorbell at all costs. We install security cameras linked to phone apps and have motion sensors to scare away intruders. But when the next-door neighbor stops by to drop off a mis-placed piece of mail? I'm sure I'm not the only one who felt compelled to hide in the living room and hold my breath, hoping I wouldn't have to talk to this mystery stranger. And then we turn around and wonder why we don't feel connected by a deeper sense of community.

You might argue that the weather is too cold where you live. Okay, fair enough; what about in summertime? You might say, "But I don't have a suitable space to dry my clothes." From folding drying racks to patio extensions for high rise apartments, I assure you, there is a solution.

And if you give it a try, maybe you will enjoy more than just the fresh scent of sundrenched sheets, and a lower electric bill. Maybe one way to bring communities closer together starts with a simple strand of cord and a bucket of clothes pins.