Ropa dope

I shall regard this as one of my favorite titles thus far in my blogging experience-other than Star-Struck in Stirling, I mean come on, that is some amazing alliteration- because of its multidimensional meaning between two languages. Ropa in Spanish means clothes, and dope...well we all know what that means in English. Rope-a-dope is also a boxing fighting style commonly associated with Muhammad Ali in his 1974 Rumble in the Jungle match against George Foreman (Wikipedia). For me, it comes to represent my dopiness in relation to washing clothes down here in Colombia, get it? Ropa ...dope? Go ahead, feel free to laugh uncontrollably and admire my rapier wit...if not, I'll have this guy do something about it:

But in all seriousness, my first experience with washing clothes down here was not good. I moved into my unfurnished apartment about two months ago and didn't have any basic necessary appliances-a refrigerator or washing machine- for an extended period of time. Therefore, my strategy for addressing the needs that employ the use of such machines resulted in shopping for fresh produce in the street and cooking it before going bad, along with stretching my wardrobe to its max potential before washing it. 

Now, my wardrobe lasted me almost three weeks. After about two and half, the need for clean socks and the bulge of my hamper obliged my clothes to speak to me, "For the sake of your hygiene and nose, please wash us." I still didn't have a washing machine, so what was a young he-buck like myself to do with this pile of sweat stains and lint? Well, the only option remaining was to face a monster that all men from all over have feared since the dawn of our existence: Handwashing their laundry.

Every dude hates laundry in general; separating whites from darks, colors, towels, folding them after, it really is a hastle. However, having to take each piece individually and wash it, rub it, ring it out, hang it, spank it...we are entering a whole new world of pain. Luckily, most apartments here have a washing sink for clothes because some families don't have the luxury of being able to purchase a washing machine. Therefore, the washboard was built into my abs, I mean second sink, on the other side of the kitchen. So I sat there, converting my plastic garbage can into bucket for my soap, and proceeded to wash, wash, and wash....and wash some more for a total of 2 and half hours. 2 AND A HALF HOURS. Wow, I mean the list of things I could have done with those 2 hours of my life. Let's list just a few:

-Watch a movie, preferably a spaghetti Western 
-Read an R.L. Stine book
-Bake a cake
-Complete two P-90X workouts
-Shave my hairy hobbit feet
-Watch countless YouTube videos

-Write more annoying blogs to take up more of your time

Those are only a few things I could think of off the top of my head, there's plenty more where that came from baby. The final step, a big one that didn't come to mind beforehand, was....where am I going to hang all this sopping wet textile? I hadn't bought a drying rack yet, so my only option was to improvise. Here is the the photo evidence; it wasn't pretty.

Anyway, after completing this daunting task, I sat down and could only say one thing..."I need a sandwich." Just kidding, it was more like, "I need a washing machine." So, after my first battle with hand washing, I had to admit defeat and the war was over; a washing machine was purchased for my household within the a week. Got to love clearance sales and scratched during delivery machines. I don't give a hoot what it looks like, as long as I don't have to hand-wash clothes ever again.