Tianni on Shop: The Unbearable Inconvenience of (Responsible) Being

The waiting....and the coming (pictures from www.culture.tw)

On my days home during the one year I lived in Taipei, my ears will prick for the distant strains of Beethoven’s Fur Elise five minutes before and after 7p.m., save Wednesday and Sunday. It didn’t matter that the first barely perceptible notes were close to drowned in the din of downtown city traffic on the street one floor down. Or that the mangled tune broadcasting from afar was almost indistinguishable from the Chinese pop blaring from my neighbour’s. Like Pavlov’s perfectly-trained dog, I will sit at apt attention come the same time on said days, and spring up the moment I heard Fur Elise wafting in from outside my windows. Even on the rare occasion my ears somehow miss the cue, the opening and slamming of my neighbours’ doors, the rustling of plastic bags and the hurried slap of flip flops down the dank staircase outside my door will alert me to the much awaited occasion – the coming of the city’s garbage trucks.

Sometimes they even come in broad daylight... (pictures from http:// www.culture.tw)

(Watch this Youtube video, coincidentally shot near my old place)

Ludwig van Beethoven must be proud that more than a century after first being published, his classical composition is not only playing to broad swathes of Taipei's population, but also assuming a pivotal role in saving the earth. For Taipei is one of the greenest in East Asia precisely because of its unique waste management system, preluded by Fur Elise (at least where I live). Five days a week, the tune will herald the evening parade of the waste collection trucks and the recycling vehicles that follow along the streets in my former part of town, next to Da’an Park. Residents know they miss these trucks at their own peril, especially at the humid height of summer. They are about the only way residents can dispose of household waste and should they somehow miss the day’s rounds, the only other alternative for putrid bags of rotting garbage is to knot them as tight as possible and put them in the furthest corner of one's home till the next collection. Tough luck if it was a Tuesday or Saturday. I still remember the home stink of 2.5 days old organic waste putrefying in 35 deg C heat, it’s that unforgettable.

The first time I learned of the city’s garbage disposal methods though, it sounded absolutely bizarre, especially to the ears of a Singaporean used to having trash cans on every street corner and a garbage chute within (or just outside) the home into which bags of refuse disappear as if by magic. In Taipei, one will be hard pressed to find a single bin on the streets for stretches on end. It's not uncommon to go out for an entire day only to lug home empty drink bottles and lumps of used tissue for disposal via what would by now have evolved into a sophisticated home waste sorting mechanism. For aside from the dearth of public trash cans and the strictly scheduled rounds of collection trucks, in Taiwan residents had to also separate organic waste from the recyclables, and among the recyclables, to separate the paper from the glass from the plastics, each type of which went into their own special recycling truck which only came by on designated days.

When I eventually mustered enough courage to lug my days-old trash down to the street corner, I dragged my feet and dawdled behind a chattering crowd of domestic helpers and housewives in pyjamas so I could study how the intricate sanitation system worked. Still, on that occasion, I ended up getting a earful from the sanitation worker handling the trash for 1) failing to use a city-approved trash bag that had to be purchase from the supermarket at $0.25 a piece, and 2) trying to dispose of newspapers on a plastics-only day. So intimidating was this recycling/trash-tax mechanism, it took me all ofa month or two to get the recycling days and the trash bags exactly right. In between, my husband and I took care of the trash we failed to throw out in a most shameful way -- by splitting them into tiny bags which we’ll then take out under cover of night to stuff into the teensy waste bins that fortunately for us, Taiwanese public parks still had in plenty.

Clean and green with no dustbins (pictures from http://commons.wikimedia.org)

But I eventually got into the swing of recycling and surprising myself, derived immense satisfaction in organizing household trash. I loved knowing that the two-litre plastic milk bottles going into my 'Plastics' corner won't be adding to some landfill but will be used again. I also relished scrapping dinner leftovers into the 'Organic Waste' bags, knowing some hogs at a farm will slurp up my mediocre cooking more enthusiastically than my spouse did. By the end of our stay in Taipei, I was close to 8 months pregnant and eagerly lumbering down the stairs to street level every time Fur Elise played so I could join the rest of the neighbourhood in meeting the trucks with our perfectly sorted trash in their blue city-approved 25-cent bags.

By the end of one year, I had come a long way from my public park dumping days, finally having gotten the hang of being a (more) environmentally aware citizen. But then I moved to China, where recycling, like the no smoking rule indoors, seemed to be just another motto hanging from the lips of officials but far removed from the reality of ordinary people. Here, pedestrians toss cigarette butts and fruit peel into bins distinctly marked for recycling and vendors use the flimsiest of plastic bags that can barely stay intact for half a day, let alone be reused. And while I was used to seeing Taiwanese friends whip out their own chopsticks and cutlery while out dining in restaurants, in Beijing, businesses deliver takeout paired with so may wooden chopsticks and disposable plastic cutlery, it's like there is no tomorrow. Which considering this is the world's largest population, may indeed become a not-too-distant reality for planet earth.

Trash bin on Beijing street - looks nice, doesn't work that nicely

Against this unsupportive backdrop, I'd have reverted to my pre-Taipei environmentally unfriendly days if not for my noisy conscience. Indoctrinated from a year of chasing after garbage trucks, it loudly protests each time I mindlessly crush a paper cup or trash a plastic bottle. So to assuage it, I've taken to lugging around my heavy metal coffee mug in an already overweight work satchel to save on paper cups and, while trying to kick my addiction to Beijing's abundant delivery services, compensate by avoiding take-outs from wasteful restaurants (like the one that doles out one plastic container each for noodles, soup and sauce). I also shop with a shopping bag and insist to delivery boys that they take back plastic bags and cutlery that come with my lunch, which must certainly befuddle them since the motto here leans more towards, when it's free, grab more.

Signs of too many take-outs

So far, no sweat. But when it comes to having to put up with physical discomforts, like literally sweating, I'm finding being environmentally-friendly is not so easy. Especially when I really really hate the heat. Almost nothing gets to me more than when I'm in a rush getting the tot and myself ready for school and work and I get all sweaty before we even go out the door. And that has made my 'greening' efforts a little tricky when this summer the mercury in Beijing soared past 40 deg C. In addition to the night time usage I've rationed myself in the summer months without which none of us pampered ones would be able to fall asleep, I've had to leave the air conditioner blasting away in the mornings while chasing the little one all over the apartment. During these sweltering months, I've also had to ditch my two-wheeler, the same one that brings me to work even when temperatures fall below freezing, in favour of the air-conditioned interiors of a cab. Even the garlic-breath of Chinese cabbies is a better option than the embarrassment of stepping into my workplace with my shirt plastered to my back with sweat.

But cooler months are coming this way, I can feel it these days on the evening breeze. And with them, I tell myself I will renew my earnest efforts in saving the planet. This time round the test of endurance will be the other way, as we see if we can huddle under our blankets till the city's central heating is turned on mid-November. Failing which we will reach for the heat switch in our apartment and flip me back onto my private guilt trip.