I know, I know ... how is this a thing?
Well, it is. Let me explain.
Last summer I came to Paris for three weeks, and I brought enough undergarments and clothes to get me through until Michael arrived and we went off on our vacation which involved hotels and laundry service ... now necessary because I had decided to stay an extra three weeks after our vacation ended.
Then I decided to stay another extra three weeks after those weeks ended.
That's a total of 12 weeks on three weeks worth of unmentionables.
So out of necessity, I simply hand-washed everything and hung it to dry in the bathroom. Great idea if you don't have guests, bad idea when you start to make friends and invite friends to visit you in your apartment.
This time I'm here for over two months without a break. No concierge in the middle. And sure as hell not that much underwear. So today I decided that if I'm going to pretend I live in Paris, I'm going to have to figure out the laundromats.
You guessed it; all instructions were in French. Lots of household words ... and we all know this princess has trouble figuring out the difference between floor cleaners in ENGLISH.
But she does not sink ...
I pull up the nearest laverie on Google and head forward with trepidation and resolve. I will do this. I will. I arrive and see I can buy detergent and softner on site. I insert the coins and the machine spits them back out. I do it again. It spits them back out. I step back and let others go ahead. I pull up Google Translate and set to figuring this shit out.
Step one: Place clothing in washing machine. Do not compact it.
Step two: Close door.
So far so good.
Step three: Select cycle.
So there are four ... 90, 65, 40, and 30. That's it. It's a dial. I decide it has to be degrees and select the lowest one. Okay. Problem solved.
Step four: Place detergent on top of clothes and close door. Wait. I thought I just closed the door. Fuck. Right. I couldn't figure out how to buy detergent. Okay. Okay ... I have to BTFU and go get my own stuff.
I trek down the street a bit until I find a small grocery store. I cannot for the life of me figure out what is what, but I know laundry pods when I see them, so I grab them and something that looks like fabric sheets. Back down the road to try again.
If this is the most boring story you've ever read, you can stop now. It doesn't get any better.
I valiantly walk back into the laverie and place my clothes in the machine, place the laundry pod on top of them, and close the door. I'm a rebel.
Step five: Proceed to central paying machine. Enter number of washing machine. Well hell, that's where I screwed up. If you want to buy laundry detergent and fabric softner, they're numbers 22 and 23. Okay, learned. I enter 13 and it prompts me to chuck 4 euro in the pay machine. I do, and the gods of laundry start my washing machine. Like a fucking boss over here!
I walk across the street and have a glass of wine in the French Quarter. I tell the waiter,"J'ai la lessive" because google said that's French for "I have laundry." For good measure I point across the street. He nods his head and I run over to flip to the dryer. Same process, easy peasy. I open my fabric sheets and they're not. They are some strange thing that keeps your colors from bleeding. Okay, that may be helpful next time. No foul. I pop it all in the dryer, select the temperature on the dial, put the number in the pay station, and it lets me buy 10 minutes for every euro. I figure 20 is good, and it gives me time for another glass of wine.
In the meantime a woman is standing on the opposite corner under an awning singing opera. She does not suck. It's incredible and I'm feeling the peace wash over me. All is right, all is well, and if I just do, I'll learn from my fails until I stop failing.
It turns out 20 minutes was not enough on the temperature I selected, so I put another euro in the machine and kick back, since I've closed my tab. A mother and daughter enter shortly after, and they're definitely from America. They begin the same damn struggle of trying to make sense of the place. I step in and assist them with buying detergent and fabric softner, and selecting machines and temperatures and cycles. I assure them the dryer is the same process. They are relieved and I am an American in Paris.
To recap for the Google Gods ...
How to do laundry in Paris
1. Select a machine and place your clothing in it, but do not cram it in because the machine will break.
2. Either place your laundry pod in there, or close the door and pull the little latch on the side out, and dump in your soap and softner. If you need to buy it, move to step three.
3. Find the central paying machine. There will be a number for soap and softner, which will dispense at a dispensing machine nearby. Enter the number, insert the money, collect your stuff. If you have your own stuff, move to step 4.
4. Note the number on your machine. Proceed to the central paying machine and enter that number. You may have to enter it and the #. # is the same in French. I have faith you'll figure this out on your own. You will be prompted to enter your coins or dollars. When you do, the machine will begin.
Of note: Older machines will give you temperatures as your only selection. Newer machines have cycles. On the old machines, you select your temperature before you pay. On the new ones, you pay first, select your cycle, then hit the start (usually green) button on the machine.
If I have saved any of you from sweating your asses off from stress in the only clean clothes you had left, you're welcome.
This is Funky, and that is all.
