The Mop

So, when you move to a foreign country, you have to expect to spend a certain (significant) percentage of your time feeling stupid. Or at least that's what I keep telling myself. Anyway, it's especially true in the beginning, when you can't even seem to buy some apples without getting confused... and then things slowly get easier. You figure out that the lady at the checkout counter isn't mumbling some sort of secret incantation at you every time you do your groceries - she's just asking you if you want a plastic bag. At the most she's asking if you have more exact change.

Some things, though, continue to be unclear. For instance, why do they call grilled cheese sandwiches "toast"? And what do they call real toast? (The kind made out of bread. Bread that has been toasted.) And aside from those, additional confusing things tend to crop up on a pretty frequent basis. Today's Source of Confusion was the Mop. (Check it out - I'm getting all German over here with the capitalization of the nouns.)

On the weekends, I like to clean the apartment. This is partially because I am mildly compulsive and partially because Italy is very dusty. And not gentle little layers of soft dust that cloud themselves onto smooth surfaces, like pianos (not that I own a piano): this is serious dust that means business - huge clods that just sit under the furniture and grow. At an astounding rate. Italy must have a very high per capita volume of dust. Or maybe it's just this city specifically. Or maybe cities in general and not Italian ones in particular. Who knows? Come to think of it, it's probably not safe to generalize - in a country where the language varies practically from one street to the next, it's not like you can expect the behavior of stuff like dirt to be constant or anything.

Anyway. Frequent cleaning. My roommates moved in before I did, due to an issue with the hot water (the issue mainly being that our water heater was temporarily incapable of producing any), so all of the cleaning stuff belongs to them and was there when I arrived. It consisted of various liquid products with labels I couldn't read, two brooms, and The Mop. The Mop should perhaps be called 'The Mopping Contraption' because it is not just a mop - it comes with something that I can really only describe as a contraption. In fact, rather than explain it, I shall just show you a picture.

There you go. So, so far I have been getting by with just the broom and this mini little contraband vacuum cleaner I got and it's been more or less okay. But the roommates were away this weekend and I decided to take advantage of the opportunity (by which I mean the absence of potential witnesses) to try out the mop thing. I'm trying to increase my adventurous gal quotient, you see.

I can't figure it out, though. I mean, presumably you put water and cleaning goo in the big bucket-y part, right? And then the smaller cup-with-rectangular-holes part is probably for wringing the thing out... right? And then it keeps that water separate from the other water... which is where my understanding of the thing ends. Because, from what I understand, you dip it in the big part to get it wet (clean water), wring it out (clean water), wipe the floor (dirty mop), dip it back into the big part (now dirty water), wring it out (still clean-ish water)... so apparently you're collecting the clean-ish water in the little trapped part? Why? Or am I doing it completely wrong? See, these are the things they ought to teach you in college. It should be a part of the Italian culture class. That and how to text message your friends, because essay-writing language is all well and good until you just want to ask someone if they're up for pizza.

Anyway, Italy, in terms of the cleaning situation, there's room for improvement. I have trouble dealing with the total lack of vacuum cleaners in the average household. The bucket contraption is too difficult for idiot foreigners like me to figure out. And then mops in general? Not a fan. It's good for getting large areas of floor space wet and picking up moderate amounts of the (un-vacuumed) dust, but not for scrubbing. The reddish stain (tomato sauce?) is still on my kitchen floor. You fail, mop. I prefer my swiffer thingie with the cool spray button, eco-unfriendly though it may be. Sadly it is in New Jersey and I am here.

It's okay, though. In terms of food, you are still my number one, Italy. And in terms of atmosphere. Or at least pretty high on the charts. So I'll just shove the dust under the bed, push a chair over the stain, go out for an espresso and call it all very quaint.

(Now I have a blog that's about mops and socks. Lovely.)