Unfortunately, I’ve never been a good artist, and I’m not any better in laundry. In fact, my latest "artwork" is absolutely hilarious. I had a month’s worth of laundry waiting to whirl and swirl with each other in the washing machine. A laundry token in our dorm costs 2 euros, so I always wait until the last possible moment to do laundry to make the most out of my money. (Obviously, I handwash underwear and socks out of necessity.) After three months of doing laundry, I pretty much knew the drill – put laundry inside the washing machine, close door, put detergent into the soap container, drop token, wait until laundry is finished. Then, put wet laundry into dryer, clean dust from the filter, close door, press start, and wait until clothes are dry. Pas de problème. (No problem.)
This time, when I dragged my heavy hamper back into my room (the straps snapped off twice), pulled out the clothes and started folding, I realized that I may have done something wrong. First of all, I had forgotten to remove my white shirts and socks from the plethora of colored clothes. They now had reddish splotches all over them. Okay, so that was my fault. But after pulling out more clothes, I discovered more reddish spots on my clothes, from my blue collared top to my favorite pair of socks. Apparently, my red pajamas had decided to be generous and share its bright color with the rest of my clothes. I didn’t know whether to laugh or to feel sorry for myself. The only clothes that were saved from my pajamas were my black tops (because they’re black) and my pink top (maybe because it already has about five shades…I don’t know if it’s white or pink anymore). I never wanted to see pink again. Then again, I have no choice but to see pink. My clothes have random pink patches all over them. I suddenly saw the beauty in layering clothes.
I’ve always had the deepest respect for homemakers and household help. People don’t always see it, but so much hard work and care is poured into taking care of a household. Rooms don’t clean themselves up. Dirt doesn’t magically disappear. Food doesn’t cook itself into delicious dishes. Most people don’t realize that until they live on their own. I’m not in charge of an entire household here in France, but living in and managing my own dorm room has taught me a lot of lessons in domestic affairs. Besides my laundry antics, I’ve also learned a lot about shopping for and cooking food. I’ve always enjoyed grocery shopping in Manila and I still spend way more time in the supermarkets here than I should. It’s a lot different from just buying food though. First of all, I’m the one who packs my own groceries into the plastic bags and carries them back to my dorm room. I don’t live so far away from my favorite grocery actually, but when I’m carrying 6 1.5-liter bottles of water on top of my other groceries, my dorm can seem like an eternity away. Also, I have to closely monitor what food I still have at home and in my refrigerator to know what to buy. I have to plan what meals to cook and when to cook them so I know what and how much ingredients to buy. I make sure I finish my food before it hits the expiration dates. I hate the thought of wasting food, and when I add the thought of the euros that went into the purchase, I must be able to finish all the food I have. Luckily I enjoy cooking and experimenting. I’ve made all kinds of pasta with the random ingredients I have in my fridge, and I’ve actually made risotto from scratch. It was actually edible, too! Of course, perpetual budgeting prevents me from buying treats; they’re very expensive anyway. Every time I’m tempted to buy chips, I just convert the prices to pesos and I immediately put the bag back on the shelf.
I have to admit, it can be rewarding and even fun to do all these chores. When you cook, do laundry, take out the trash, wash dishes (my favorite chore, for some unknown reason), or clean your room, you get a feeling of independence and a sense of responsibility. You realize that this is it. This is the real life that people always tell you about. It’s not all about chasing after big dreams and life-changing moments or milestones. Most of the time, it’s just about little things, like blankets. Life is made up of little things that have to be taken care of. Blankets don’t fold themselves up in the mornings. Someone does it, but there won’t always be someone to look after you, so you must learn how to manage. I still have to learn how to do a couple of other things, like how to fix a broken sink. I’ve been able to unclog a couple of sinks in my lifetime, but I still wouldn’t know what to do if the sink begins leaking.
Little kids play bahay-bahayan all the time, anxiously waiting for the chance to be able to do all the domestic tasks by themselves. When they get a bit older, they realize that household chores are nothing like the game they used to love playing. It’s nothing like a game at all. It’s hard work. Yet they sometimes still forget to appreciate the efforts of the other people around them who take on these responsibilities. Socks, for one thing. I never realized how much work one has to put into removing the dirt from your socks, especially if you handwash them. I scrub and scrub, and even after my hands are chafed, some dirt is still there! Each time I plunge them back into the basin of soapy water, I wonder what magic our household helpers have and that they’re able to return my used socks all nice and clean, just like that.
I guess it’s just a part of growing up. No matter where or how far you go, everything comes back to where you started – your home. Whether you learn how to wash your clothes under the sampayan at your house or in the laundry room in your dorm in another country, your knowledge of domestic responsibilities reflects your knowledge and preparedness for the bigger world. If you can take care of things under your own roof, you can take care of bigger things – and yourself – when you finally venture away from home.