| Bicycle touring Sardinia. I
gathered our clothes into a large garbage bag and hauled them
over to the self-service washing facility. Ready to tackle the
task, I knelt down at the pool edge and pulled on a pair of bright
yellow rubber gloves. My handwear must have been a cheerful colour
-- at least I imagined that was what caused much merriment amongst
the local washerwomen. I must have looked extremely professional
as I took out my small bag of powdered soap. But, the circle
of washerwomen clucked their tongues and shook their heads, as
they might towards a societal misfit. Wordlessly, a nearby washerwoman
passed me her bar of soap. I gripped the hard chunk and smeared
a wide streak across my first article. Then, the washerwomen
nodded their approval as I dipped my shirt into the scalding
water, rubbed it harshly against the concrete, and splashed it
into the pool to rinse. |
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