Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Baffled by Basura!
In Mexico City, nearly every time I so much as lose a hair in the shower I start thinking What am I going to do with this? Will I need to add it to my trash? Please let it just go down the drain. You see, in Mexico City garbage is a major problem. There is a garbage truck who speeds through the neighborhoods daily, blowing a very inconspicuous little whistle to signal that it is your chance to run with your bags down many flights of stairs and meet the truck being commandeered by understandably grumpy men standing calf-deep in a mysterious roux of orange peels, diapers and god-knows-what else. The problem is that the garbage truck arrives during working hours-- one reason why everyone who can afford it has a maid who meets the truck daily and disposes of the household garbage. So I don't have a maid (yet) and I am left to deal with the garbage by myself. In the process I have turned into a stealth guerilla, a basurista, if you will. Here's why.
It is illegal to dump garbage anywhere...not that this stops anyone from transforming any flower pot, ditch or stray bucket in the road into a trash receptacle. However, if one of the plentiful and very corrupt patrolling policia was to see me leaving my bag of trash curbside, I would most likely be fined and have to pay a bribe. Near my old apartment, a median in the road had been relegated to a trash pile. I felt less guilty about adding my trash bag to this consistent mountain of waste. I also felt that the rubbish pile gave the neighborhood vagrants a fun hobby of sifting through potato chip shrapnel and peelings for rare treasures (a discarded diamond earring? a gold tooth?). At my present home, my block is pristine and I am left to saunter out in cat burglar gear in the darkest predawn hours to dump my trash bag by the side of the road. By the time I return from work at the end of the day, the garbage is gone..either picked up by the men in the truck or kindly delivered to the truck by a good samaritan maid. It's not like I haven't tried to find a better solution to this problem. Once, I tried to bribe the doorman in the building next door to take it out for me. Either my Spanish was too bad or my offer wasn't sweet enough, because he promptly declined and gestured toward the street, giving me his blessing to leave the garbage on the curb.
This dilemma presents a stark contrast to my former experience living in Japan where trash was meticulously sorted and I was even given a rule book for what week I could throw out items like twine, batteries, or lone socks. Additionally, when I made mistakes such as trying to discard dryer lint in the same bag with an egg shell, my garbage was left in the parking lot with an admonishing note stapled to it. In fact, a friend just reminded me that in order to get rid of a suitcase, I hefted the thing to a busy Tokyo train station (only a one and half hour train ride away) parked myself in a phone booth where I pretended to make a call and then ran, leaving the suitcase behind. I am sure that Japanese authorities are still trying to find me to give it back.
Here in Mexico I resort to the same rogue behaviors for the opposite reasons. Here there are no real rules, just the ever present threat of the police. Do I hire domestic help just so I am not holding on to kleenex boxes, water bottles and plastic bags reasoning that they are too bulky to throw away sneakily? Or do I continue my secret dumping, guarding myself against the flashing lights of the passing patrol car and reproachful stares of the infrequent passerby?
In Mexico City, nearly every time I so much as lose a hair in the shower I start thinking What am I going to do with this? Will I need to add it to my trash? Please let it just go down the drain. You see, in Mexico City garbage is a major problem. There is a garbage truck who speeds through the neighborhoods daily, blowing a very inconspicuous little whistle to signal that it is your chance to run with your bags down many flights of stairs and meet the truck being commandeered by understandably grumpy men standing calf-deep in a mysterious roux of orange peels, diapers and god-knows-what else. The problem is that the garbage truck arrives during working hours-- one reason why everyone who can afford it has a maid who meets the truck daily and disposes of the household garbage. So I don't have a maid (yet) and I am left to deal with the garbage by myself. In the process I have turned into a stealth guerilla, a basurista, if you will. Here's why.
It is illegal to dump garbage anywhere...not that this stops anyone from transforming any flower pot, ditch or stray bucket in the road into a trash receptacle. However, if one of the plentiful and very corrupt patrolling policia was to see me leaving my bag of trash curbside, I would most likely be fined and have to pay a bribe. Near my old apartment, a median in the road had been relegated to a trash pile. I felt less guilty about adding my trash bag to this consistent mountain of waste. I also felt that the rubbish pile gave the neighborhood vagrants a fun hobby of sifting through potato chip shrapnel and peelings for rare treasures (a discarded diamond earring? a gold tooth?). At my present home, my block is pristine and I am left to saunter out in cat burglar gear in the darkest predawn hours to dump my trash bag by the side of the road. By the time I return from work at the end of the day, the garbage is gone..either picked up by the men in the truck or kindly delivered to the truck by a good samaritan maid. It's not like I haven't tried to find a better solution to this problem. Once, I tried to bribe the doorman in the building next door to take it out for me. Either my Spanish was too bad or my offer wasn't sweet enough, because he promptly declined and gestured toward the street, giving me his blessing to leave the garbage on the curb.
This dilemma presents a stark contrast to my former experience living in Japan where trash was meticulously sorted and I was even given a rule book for what week I could throw out items like twine, batteries, or lone socks. Additionally, when I made mistakes such as trying to discard dryer lint in the same bag with an egg shell, my garbage was left in the parking lot with an admonishing note stapled to it. In fact, a friend just reminded me that in order to get rid of a suitcase, I hefted the thing to a busy Tokyo train station (only a one and half hour train ride away) parked myself in a phone booth where I pretended to make a call and then ran, leaving the suitcase behind. I am sure that Japanese authorities are still trying to find me to give it back.
Here in Mexico I resort to the same rogue behaviors for the opposite reasons. Here there are no real rules, just the ever present threat of the police. Do I hire domestic help just so I am not holding on to kleenex boxes, water bottles and plastic bags reasoning that they are too bulky to throw away sneakily? Or do I continue my secret dumping, guarding myself against the flashing lights of the passing patrol car and reproachful stares of the infrequent passerby?
# posted by mexitymaestra : 5:30 PM
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