During our stay at Kovalam Beach, India, I always wondered what happened, our wallah washing laundry after he left on his bicycle, balancing the laundry basket on her head. In reality it is not unlikely that smells of washing machines at any time (although there is now perhaps), so I was wondering how the clothing was always so fresh and clean and without splinters.
One day I happened on a walk around the inside of the Kovalam beach and teaand fruit in several villages along the route. When I was a young high school girls and not by hitting his head out the cabin window and pointed at me and giggling with embarrassment. Seniors that scold them and their beautiful black braids and flashing white teeth, but would disappear for a few minutes.
On the way back I crossed a bridge over a beautiful blue river and then I saw the wallah! Well, not quite the same Walla, but about half a dozen women anddozens of baskets. So this is how they did clothes, just beating them to death against the rocks of the River. Apparently it does not use river water only soap and stone. With rippling muscles, he fought every piece of clothing against the rocks a dozen times, and check whether it was clean. If so, hung it on the highest rocks in the sun to dry. If they had not made out a little more ', until they get clean. Now clean, good for them, I thought. But I do not know if my shirtscould face more than two weeks ago, that the abuses are.
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