Trash or Treasure

Compost Education Via Garlic

2011-06-18T15:13:00.000-07:00

Through my work at Harvest I write about the virtues of compost almost every day. But even I was floored by my wee public compost education experiment I did on the sideyard.

In the fall of 2010, I applied 3 cubic feet of compost to half the garlic bed, and zero compost to the other half.

The difference

is striking: the garlic with compost is a lush, rich green, nearly twice as high as the half without any soil amendment. The garlic without compost literally pales in comparison.

I'm infecting the neighborhood with excitement for adding nutrients to our soil. I hear people walking by exclaim, "Wow. Look at the difference compost makes!" and "Honey, we need to get some compost for our garden."

It feels great to raise the profile of compost in our local neighborhood.

Hike Madagascar Videos

2011-02-12T18:17:00.000-08:00

Enjoy these 3 videos from my 8-month hike the length of Madagascar.

Garlic

2010-10-30T17:35:00.000-07:00

Ahhh... garlic. Keeps away vampires. Maintains health. It's great.

I planted my first batch of garlic ever with Nancy Pierce last year in her garden (see our harvest in the photo to the right). Last year we did hard neck garlic. This year she sent over some soft neck garlic, recommended highly by a local green thumb. My boss advises me, "Garlic needs FULL sun." So I've prepared a bed to the south of my fence that gets lots of sun.

Bulbs going in this weekend. Grow well little ones. See you in the spring.

One Can a Month Challenge

2010-05-23T19:28:00.001-07:00

For the last couple months I've been volunteering for the Richmond Can-A-Month Challenge. Ten families with kids and pets signed up to take the challenge to reduce their garbage collection from once per week to once per month.

Allen Field was the brainchild and force behind the challenge. He called me up a few months ago. I haven't done much volunteering since my Peace Corps days, and I'm a sucker for anything involving community and garbage, so I signed up to help get the situation sorted.

First, we met and brainstormed the ways to set the families up for success. We figured they needed a few angles of attack to whittle their garbage ration down from once a week to once a month. First, they needed to do curbside recycling (here in Portland OR that includes paper, metal and plastic bottles with glass on the side). Second, they needed to go "beyond curbside" which meant bringing rigid plastics, film plastics, and miscellaneous materials to Far West Fibres. Third, they had to do backyard composting, or vermicomposting. Fourth, they needed to address diapers and pet waste (here's one dog waste solution). Finally, they would (ideally) start to wrap their head around "precycling," or buying things with less waste in the first place.

Allen led a two-hour intro session with the group mid-April 2010, with me acting as support crew. He kept the tone light and positive saying, "This shouldn't be a source of stress. If you get overloaded with garbage for whatever reason, just put out another bag one week. It's only $5.00." (We joked at one point about taking the "one flush a month challenge" next year.)

Then, for the first few weeks in May 2010 we followed up with 1.5-hour in-home consultations with each family to do sorts and set up worm bins. The folks at CES and other volunteers helped too. We would dump their trash and recycling out on a big blue tarp. Then we would go through the garbage piece by piece, either confirming its pile (yup, this crinkly wrapper goes in the trash) or giving it a new life (this bread crust can go in the compost).

It always amazes me how much you learn about a household through its garbage -- the hundreds of bits of scrap paper at one house told the story a recent school craft project.

We took pictures of each pile. Most families were shocked at how little "trash waste" they had -- with the air squeezed out, it was oftentimes the size of a softball or basketball.

I was really impressed with the delivery of this vision and project. Allen set up a blog on the Richmond neighborhood website. He got grants from local business and government agencies to help supply worm bins and other waste reduction supplies. He included a "pay-it-forward" element to the challenge to enable/coerce participants to extend their experience to their community. He pointed folks towards useful resources such as the EnviroMom website and a participant's blog. The project has already gotten great press.

The idea is already spreading -- I just called up my garbage hauler and switched from a weekly 20-gallon can to a 35-gallon roll cart. I'll save about $5 per month. More importantly, it feels good to take on the challenge. If families with kids and pets can do it, I can-a-month, too.

An Evening with Annie Leonard - The Story of Stuff

2010-05-18T20:55:00.000-07:00

In April 2010 I spent a delightful evening with Annie Leonard and Friends. Annie came out with a hit movie a few years ago titled The Story of Stuff. This year, she came out with a book -- aptly titled "The Story of Stuff" that goes into more details about "how our obsession with stuff is trashing the planet, our health, and our communities."

She was just as effervescent in person as she is in her movies: Spunky. Quirky. Passionate. She knows her stuff.

I encouraged Annie to make a Story of Organics to add to her growing list that includes The Story of Bottled Water and The Story of Cap & Trade. She didn't bite, but I think her mother liked the idea...which is a good start.

Anyways, thanks for the wonderful evening, Annie and Friends. (Delicious food, by the way -- I was stuffed.)

Roz Savage Rocks!

2010-03-09T21:49:00.000-08:00

I have been horribly neglecting this "Trash or Treasure" blog because of my work with Harvest Power. It is a neat company that blends my favorite flavor of trash (organics) with a hot topic (clean energy). I am excited about shaping this new equation for organic diversion. I am inspired by my colleagues. I am having fun. But all of this excitement leaves little time for blogging, so if you want to see my world these days, tune into the high solids anaerobic digestion channel at blog.harvestpower.com.

HOWEVER, I did manage to carve out a couple hours last week to meet up with my hero, Roz Savage. She rowed across the Atlantic Ocean, solo. She is about to embark on her third leg of rowing across the Pacific Ocean. I have always been interested in trans-Atlantic Ocean rowers because my Great Great Uncle (or one of those connections) was Frank Samuelsen, who rowed across the Atlantic Ocean in 1896 with his buddy, George Harbo. They were burly (or stupid, depending on how you slice it) setting out in their open rowboat to paddle, stroke by stroke, across the sea.

Anyways, my friend, Ken, tipped me off about Roz a couple months ago. I started following her tweets. Then, I suggested her book, Rowing the Atlantic: Lessons Learned on the Open Ocean, for my book club. (Everyone loved the book.) In this crazy world of social networking, a couple weeks ago, I noticed one of Roz's tweets mentioned Portland. I sent her a note. A few days later, we were drinking coffee on Hawthorne together. Amazing.

Roz, in person, is exactly the way she comes across in her book: an incredibly endearing blend of gutsy, determined, down to earth, kind, caring, and somehow glamorous as she described how she uses her iphone to coach her on doing pushups. (She is addicted to her iphone, but in a really great way -- I gave her my business card, and she said, "I don't have room in my life for little bits of paper." So she took a photo of the card, then gave it back to me. The waste reduction geek in me swooned.)

So we enjoyed a nice cup of coffee and talked about our life paths. We have some fun overlaps (rowing, adventures, environmentalism, public speaking) and I hope our trails cross again in the future. I looked back into my files and found this holiday card from my family in 1987 (or thereabouts). Here I am rowing in one of our little boats in the salt marsh estuary near our home in New Jersey, not 20 miles from where Frank and George set out from Battery Park on the outgoing tide in 1896.

Roz, wherever and whenever you read this, good tidings on the last leg of your Pacific Journey. Have fun giving your TED talk in the Galapagos (that is SO cool). Finally, do drop a line the next time you come through Portland. Till then,
Meredith

Explore The Cycle Video

2010-01-21T15:44:00.001-08:00

A friend recently sent me this link to Explore the Cycle. Check it out!

Yi Visits: PDX, Far West Fibers, Free Geek

2010-01-02T19:11:00.000-08:00

A few months ago, I got an email from a Wellesley student, Yi, who was applying for a fellowship to study zero waste around the world (like mine, only a Watson). Since then, we've kept in touch. Yi took advantage of the holiday break to come visit Portland for a few days.

DAY 1: I picked Yi up from the train station...on our tandem. The trailer had a flat tire. Luckily, Yi was traveling light with one little shoulder bag. There is no better way to experience Portland than by bike. We pedaled through the neighborhoods. (I was secretly proud of using the 15mm wrench to change out the pedals, and using the other tool to change the seat heights. I don't usually deal with this stuff, but Gene is in Antarctica, and it was a crisp, clear day. Forget girl power; we wanted gear power!)

DAY 2 (morning): We toured Portland International Airport's Waste Minimization and Recycling Program with Stan and Mitch. The established programs are humming: pre- and post-consumer food waste diversion; recycling of glass, cardboard, paper, metal, plastic; liquid collection station; spring and fall cleanups; the list goes on.

In addition, the recycling team expanded the "Save Our Supplies" program in anticipation of an office move. Through diligence and hard work, the Port of Portland is reusing tons of paper clips, binders, notepads, and office supplies.

Finally, on our way out of the parking lot, we saw the new recycling bins in the bus shelters. This was particularly exciting for me because I did some research and evaluation on recycling at PDX bus shelters in September 2009. My recommendations in fruition: PDX retro-fitted Clearstream containers with strong signage and stapled them into the concrete. They looked great.

DAY 2 (afternoon): We dropped off plastic clam shells at the Far West Fibers in SE Portland. I dug (not literally) the vermicomposting bin. It must have been too cold for the worms, because I didn't see a single wriggler.

DAY 3 (morning): We toured Free Geek, an organization with a mission "to recycle technology and provide access to computers, the internet, education and job skills in exchange for community service." Through the program at Free Geek, folks can volunteer for 24 hours in exchange for a computer. It seemed really well organized; I was impressed.

DAY 3 (afternoon): I drop Yi off at the train station (via car).

Thanks for the visit, Yi! It's always fun to exchange ideas and information with other solid waste enthusiasts.

Tree

2009-12-27T15:55:00.000-08:00

Caught this photo up on Mt. Tabor last week, with the sun coming up at a low angle.

Happy holidays to all.

Meredith

Marine Debris

2009-12-12T21:25:00.000-08:00

I recently finished a good book, Rowing the Atlantic, by Roz Savage. Essentially, a 30-something woman with a good job, husband, and house realizes she's not happy with her current life (her life's currents?). She jumps ship... and lands in a 23' boat she paddles across the Atlantic.

I've been following Roz on Twitter and like her approach to life. Also, I have an affinity for ocean rowers given that my Great Uncle (or some relation like that) rowed across the Atlantic in 1896.

Anyways, my friend, Joanne, recently sent me a photo (top right) she took in Viera Beach, FL, that documents the life cycle of marine debris in the water.

Salty tales, unite!

Watered Twice a Month

2009-12-01T19:23:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine, Annie, waters her plants the 1st and 15th of every month. The plants that don't make it, don't. Those that do, do.

Tough love. I dig it.

Today, being the 1st of December, I watered our budding jade plant.

Grow, little one, grow!

I could have studied garbage in college?

2009-11-25T09:28:00.000-08:00

A friend just sent me this article on strange college courses. One offered at Santa Clara University explores "The Joy of Garbage." Nice!

Santa Clara University

The Joy of Garbage is a Santa Clara University course that actually deals with real science through the lens of garbage. Students study decomposition, what makes soil rot, the chemicals that give garbage an unpleasant odor, and they also learn about sustainability when it comes to the things we throw away. Classes don’t just study household garbage either, there’s also a section on nuclear waste. And topping things off there are even field trips, with students visiting local sanitation plants and landfills.

Organic Filing System

2009-11-21T11:15:00.000-08:00

This cartoon from a recent New Yorker magazine appeals to me.

"Stuff" on OPB

2009-11-12T16:27:00.000-08:00

This morning,"Think out Loud" on Oregon's Public Broadcast (OPB) network, there was an interesting story on "Stuff."

One woman called into to say how she has 100s of bras, because she can't find the right one.

Others posted a note on the last thing they had purchased.

Amazing what people will share.

JibJab: Big BoxMart Animation

2009-11-04T17:19:00.000-08:00

How have I not seen this before today?

Try JibJab Sendables® eCards today!

Two Old Toilets: Keep in Circulation or Flush Away?

2009-11-02T08:47:00.000-08:00

Last week, after replacing the main water line, we were digging (heh) on water conservation. Gene went out and got two 1.28 gallon-per-flush toilets (less than $100 each) to replace the old ones. These suckers are designed so well -- they flush perfectly using relatively little water.

The former thrones, thrown into the carport, looked lonely. I went on Craigslist, posted them for FREE, and they were gone within two hours.

I usually promote reuse. But in this case, was I wrong to put these water-hogging toilets back into circulation?

"Get Trashed at Green Drinks"

2009-10-29T15:23:00.000-07:00

Lovin' the announcements for tonight's talk at Double Mountain Brewery in Hood River, OR. Gorge Outdoors published a nice interview in preparation for tonight's slide show on waste management.

See you all, soon!

Leaky Pipes No Longer

2009-10-27T11:04:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, I used to think that a "productive weekend" entailed going for a run, getting laundry done, lining up snacks for the rest of the week, and possibly doing some bike maintenance.

The bar has been reset: this Saturday, we replaced the main water line from the street to the house.

Like most houses built half-a-century ago, the galvanized steel pipes that go into Nancy's house (where we're living) have been slowly been rotting away. Before, when I thought "leaky pipe", I envisioned a pipe with a little hole in it. No no. These things leak. Consistently. The water seeped into the ground and made a corner of the yard constantly damp.

Here's a picture of the pipe(s) that we pulled out of the ground. You see the rust? You see the earth that has adhered to the pipe? It's almost like clay. They needed to be replaced.

First, we rented a mini excavator. This one has "CAT" controls.

Then, after turning off the water and disconnecting some important bits, we dug a trench. Gene did most of the digging with the excavator while I hacked away roots with an axe.

Then we pulled the old pipe out. At the same time, we threaded the new plastic-y pipe in. I could not believe the diameter of the pipe -- that skinny little thing brings water into the whole house? Crazy.

Gene then connected the new pipe to the house and back to the main water line from the city. It was a little touch-and-go when water started spraying all over the basement. I started envisioning a week of bucket baths, but Gene was able to fix it.

Finally, we turned the water back on in time for dinner! We even made it to a pumpkin carving party that evening, though, after carving up the yard all day, I didn't feel like carving any pumpkins.

It is so satisfying to see the dial on the water meter -- which had chronically spun no matter if no one was using water in the house -- stay put.

Yay, efficiency.

350.org: International Day of Climate Action

2009-10-26T09:19:00.000-07:00

Saturday, October 24, 2009, was the International Day of Climate Action put together by Bill McKibben and the folks at 350.org.

What's 350? It is the number that "leading scientists say is the safe upper limit for carbon dioxide—measured in "Parts Per Million" in our atmosphere. 350 PPM—it's the number humanity needs to get back to as soon as possible to avoid runaway climate change."

Check out 350.org, along with their beautiful photographs from around the world.

There Once Was a Recycler on Nantucket

2009-10-20T14:51:00.000-07:00

Edged out by just three other stories (Dementia, Toxic Parents, and Where the Wild Things Are), the New York Times article today on the trend towards Zero Waste communities is the fourth most emailed story.

The island of Nantucket -- once whaling hotspot, now upperclass retreat with three shades of grey -- is leading the charge?! Ahoy.

Photo: Michael Weymouth

Double Your Pleasure: Environmental Homonyms

2009-10-19T15:47:00.000-07:00

Whenever I get on the tandem, I start singing the Doublemint Gum theme song from my childhood:

"Double double your refreshment,
Double double your enjoyment.
Oh, no single gum double freshens your mouth
like double fresh, Doublemint, gum."

In honor of this doubling, I present environmental homonyms that have crossed my mind recently:

PLAN IT
PLANET

and

WHETHERIZATION (yes, I made that up)
WEATHERIZATION

Not to mention...

EYE NO TRASH
I KNOW TRASH (my domain)

photo: Beth Ross

Yeah Chip!

2009-09-15T15:05:00.000-07:00

Ten years ago, I lived with my sister, Jenny, in Seattle. She and I had so much fun the summer of 1999: we climbed mountains, went to concerts, played Kadima, and ran around Greenlake. Around that time, her friend, Chip (photo right), organized a mobile-making party where friends could come and make balanced works of art that spun in the breeze. His invitation read something like, "Get Mobilized!" (I loved the pun.)

So Jenny, Chip, and I went around town to collect mobile-making supplies. Jenny zipped us over to some industrial site near Ballard. We got out of the jeep, walked up to the dumpster, and Jenny, without pause, jumped into the dumpster in her bright orange sundress. She bent down, and then popped up, holding up all of her prizes: cool, rusty metal parts that would be great for a mobile. With her big smile, she said, "These would be perfect!"

That was the same summer that Chip started his little online environmental newsletter.

I relate this story because, somewhat like a mobile, it feels like our paths have come full circle. Now, I jump in dumpsters, Jenny plays with words (with their kids, Ellis and Sebastian), and Chip just received a big prize. Go Chip! I am so proud of you.

Pro-Recession, Less Waste.

2009-09-11T13:09:00.000-07:00

The Oregonian recently published a story on how Oregonians threw away less stuff in 2008 compared to 2007.

Tighter wallets = more mindful consumption.

Running Water for Runners at Public Events: Water Event Station

2009-09-08T15:59:00.000-07:00

On August 23, 2009, I volunteered for the illustrious Freshwater Trust's Portland Triathlon. In addition to yelling, "Right turn. Right turn, here!" for four hours, I got to check out the City of Portland's W.E.S., or Water Event Station.

The Portland Water Bureau hooks a glorified spigot into the water main (or fire hydrant), and supplies running water for a bunch of thirsty runners and event-goers. The portable, public fontain with little nozzles for easy refills is a great option for events seeking to reduce the use of plastic water bottles.

Umbra on Bubble Wrap

2009-09-02T11:25:00.000-07:00

I do love Umbra, Grist's Advice Columnist of Reason and Wit.
In her post today, on recycling bubble wrap, she wrote,

"Congratulations and best wishes for a long and happy marriage. You may wish to retain a portion of the bubble wrap for use during periods of marital fragility."

Classic.

Rules For Being Human

2009-08-24T11:04:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine shared this essay (below) with me last week after I completely messed up a great opportunity after making a series of silly choices. Lesson. Painfully. Learned. I took this picture (right) while hiking the length of Madagascar -- it seems fitting because it reminds me to keep dipping my paddle in the river of life.

Rules for Being Human

1. You will receive a body. You may like it or hate it, but it will be yours the entire period this time around.

2. You will learn lessons. You are enrolled in a full-time informal school called life. Each day in this school you will have the opportunity to learn lessons. You may like the lessons or think them irrelevant and stupid.

3. There are no mistakes, only lessons. Growth is a process of trial and error, experimentation. The "failed" experiments are as valuable and as much a part of the process as the experiment that ultimately "works".

4. A lesson is repeated until learned. A lesson will be presented to you in various forms until you have learned it. When you have learned it, you can then go to the next lesson.

5. Learning lessons does not end. There is no part of life that does not contain its lessons. If you are alive, there are lessons to be learned.

6. "There" is no better than "here". When your "there" has become a "here" you will simply obtain another "there" that will, again, look better than "here".

7. Others are merely mirrors of you. You cannot love or hate something about another person unless it reflects to you something you love or hate about yourself.

8. What you make of your life is up to you. You have all the tools and resources you need. What you do wtih them is up to you. The choice is yours.

9. Your answers lie inside you. The answers to life's questions lie inside you. All you need to do is look, listen, and trust.

10. You will forget all this.

-Anonymous

Montavilla Farmers Market Takes the Plunge with Durable Dishes

2009-08-10T08:50:00.000-07:00

This is no ordinary stack of dirty dishes.

These dishes are part of the Durable Dish Pilot Project for the Montavilla Farmers Market (MFM) at SE Stark and 76th in Portland, Oregon. What is a "durable dish"? It is one you can use over and over and over again. You probably have some in your home. Now they are being pioneered at a Farmers Market. Start drooling: that green salsa on your tamale just got even tastier.

Through a grant from Portland's Bureau of Planning and Sustainability, Montavilla Farmers Market purchased 108 plates, 48 cups, and 150 forks for use at their market. It's a pretty straightforward process: Volunteers distribute the plates, forks, and cups to the food vendors at the beginning of the market. The vendors then serve their food on the plates. People then sit down in the eating area and eat their food. When finished, they bring their serviceware to the the trash station. This month, because it is a pilot project, volunteers take their plates, and ask folks to fill out a survey about their experience.

The feedback from the food vendors has been positive: they are able to present their food artistically, and they are also able to cut costs because they do not need to purchase as much disposable serviceware. Farmer market goers are also enthusiastic: they like the plates, cups, and forks because they create a nicer eating experience. Someone also wrote on their feedback form that "the plates don't blow away in the wind." One person said that they always bring their mug for coffee, but that they were never going to bring a fork and plate from home. Now, they are psyched because they have a waste-free option of eating food at the market.

At 2pm, when the market closes, a designated volunteer brings the dishes to Thatchers, a local restaurant. At Thatchers, she loads the dishes into an industrial washer where the dishes are washed, rinsed, and sanitized. She then stacks the dishes and brings them back to the market where they are put away, ready for next week. The whole process takes 20 minutes.

I met with Kristin Wildensee who organizes the trash at the MFM to get the full story. She is a superstar. I thought I loved waste reduction and recycling. No no. Kristin does it all. Better yet, she gives the attendees of the farmers market the tools they need to do it all. When I say, "Do it all," I mean reduce waste and properly recycle.

RECYCLING NERDS, KEEP READING FOR THE FULL STORY

Let's start at the beginning. When the Montavilla Farmers Market started out in 2007, Kristin had just finished Portland's Master Recycler Course and volunteered to manage the market's waste. She set up paired trash-and-recycling cans throughout the small gravel lot. At the end of each market, she looked in the bins to see if the signage on top of the lids worked. It did: she was successfully capturing the usual recyclables generated at public events: plastic bottles and aluminum cans. The trash was full of clamshells and plastic cups, but there was nothing she could do about that, right? Keep reading.

The second year, Kristin helped volunteer at the Bite of Oregon, where Lindsey Newkirk of Elysium Events led the charge to get thousands of plastic cups recycled. Kristin recalls an epic morning at Waterfront Park, dipping cup after cup into 5-gallon buckets of cold water. Once rinsed and stacked, they were able to give the cups to a plastics recycler. That experience inspired Kristin to look at Montavilla Farmers Market's waste stream with a more critical eye. She says, "I had thought that volunteers wouldn't like rinsing cups because it was too messy and took too much time. Through this process, I realized that there's only a barrier if I think there is." She could get cups out of the waste stream! Perhaps she could get more.

Building on her experiences, in 2008, Kristin built "over the barrel" signs out of PVC piping that point directly down to the trash and recycling cans. She reduced trash and recycling bins to one centralized station. After many tries, she realized that people like simple signage. At this point, she had three waste stream categories: 1) bottles & cans, 2) clear cups (she was rinsing and recycling about 100 cups a week), and 3) landfill.

In 2009, the third season, Kristin had high expectations. In looking at the garbage, she realized that about 95 percent of the waste generated was disposable serviceware. She asked the knowledgeable folks at Community Environmental Services for help and they gave her some tips on signage and waste stream evaluation. She went around to each and every vendor and asked them for an example of every piece of waste that might end up in the trash. She then labeled them and spread them out on her porch, trying to see patterns in products. She did some research and realized that every paper item (napkins, boats, plates, straw wrappers, parchment paper from the bakery items, Ecotainer hot cups, and tamale wrappers) was compostable. The lemonade vendor had also just switched to compostable cups. She did a waste audit and verified that the market generated about two full 45-gallon containers of compostables each week. She presented her findings to the MFM board, and they agreed to fund the additional costs associated with organic diversion: in this case $25/month for an additional hauling cost, plus ~$75 in compostable bags. Organic diversion: check.

Kristin says, "It made me feel good that there was so little landfill waste," Kristin says, "but there were still all the plastic clamshells, plastic forks, and plastic cups." She continued, "It's one thing to rinse and stack plastic cups. It's quite another thing to get plastic forks and greasy clamshells clean...with a bucket of cold water. It's also time consuming." She described the process: "The first week, I was enthusiastic. The second week, it [cleaning greasy clamshells] was gross. The third week, I thought, 'This is ridiculous! There has to be a better way.'"

She considered compostable serviceware (sometimes called "bioplastics"), but had concerns. Could the market's small businesses afford the extra costs? Would the bioplastics increase contamination? (They look like plastic, but they are not.) How would they be processed? (They have to go to a commercial composting facility.) Are they good for the soil? (Sure, they "break down", but they add no nutrient value to compost.) Umbra, on Grist, writes about corn plastic here. Deciding to skip bioplastics, Kristin applied for a grant for durable dishware.

She was awarded a Portland Recycles! grant designed to reduce waste. A few other businesses received grants for durable dishware, but MFM was the first outdoor farmers market in Portland (that I know of) to invest in reusable dishware.

In August 2009, armed with real 9" plates, metal forks, and hard-plastic cups, the waste stream has shifted dramatically. In an outdoor market with about 35 vendors and 1400 customers each Sunday, Kristin reports her findings of the waste composition:

PLASTIC FORKS: Before durables, 118. After durables, 10.
PLASTIC DRINK CUPS: Before durables, 30. After durables, 7.
PLASTIC CLAMSHELLS: Before plates, lots. After plates, none.

I applaud Montavilla Farmers Market for skipping the compostable serviceware step and going straight to durables. Kristin is leading the charge, gathering information, and gleaning insights that will help others "take the plunge."

Deschutes River, 2009

2009-08-06T09:00:00.000-07:00

Last weekend (August 1-2), I went on a fun rafting trip on the Deschutes River with seven other ladies.

We all had a good time jumping off the columnar jointing (that's the fancy geology term for the basaltic hexagonal columns) at one section of the river. Jess captured this good one of Bree and me. Yippeee!

When we were pulling into our campground, someone said, "This place has a phoenix!" At first I thought they were talking about a bird. [yawn] Then they explained, "A phoenix is a special composting toilet." Sign me up! It was very nice, with a bin of wood chips and a little scoop to add after every deposit.

Pelican Beak, Kangaroo Pouch, BYOB

2009-07-29T14:36:00.000-07:00

Animal Planet TV has a series of short (<1 minute) public broadcasting messages on YouTube on how "Animals Save the Planet." My favorite, so far, is the one on bringing your own bag.

The Un-Shopping Card

2009-07-27T11:34:00.000-07:00

I am at a nice pivot point in my career: as I look for employment, I want to stay true to my passion for solid waste, but also recognize that I have a broader commitment to the field we currently refer to as sustainability. It seems like there is a lot of opportunity to blend these interests; it's just a matter of timing.

In a recent web-job-research session, I came across this "Un-Shopping Card" on Clackamas County's Spring 2009 Sustainability Newsletter. I think it's fantastic! Mindful consumption: bring it.

Just to keep sending it out to the airwaves, here is my resume.

Bike to a Mountain; Bike to a Wedding

2009-07-16T16:48:00.001-07:00

The last two weekends, Gene and I have built up a good track record for using our tandem as our primary form of transportation, even when it involves mountains and weddings.

The first weekend in July was the 12th annual Watershed Relay. It's this funky event put on by some friends where you race from the summit of Mt. Adams to Hood River. "Race" is a generous term; besides Gardner, the brainchild of this event, and Johnny, his adventurous roommate, everyone else is just psyched to make it through without too many sore muscles. There is no registration fee. There is no support crew, besides what you figure out for yourself. You just stash a whole bunch of gear in bushes along the way so that you can glissade, mountain bike, road bike, kayak, run, and paddle your way through the Mt. Adams watershed and across the Columbia river.

People typically drive up to the base of Mt. Adams. They then use their vehicle(s) to shuttle gear and people down the coarse. Gene and I wanted to try a new approach: using our bike. We started out in White Salmon and strapped our backpack on the back of the tandem.

It was a 5-hour ride up to the south summit parking lot. The last few miles were tough -- the mosquitoes were starting to come out, and the gravel road was really dusty. We asked ourselves, "Why are we doing it this way? Why are we biking when we could have easily carpooled?" We were heartened by the astonished looks of hikers (non-Watershed folks) passing us in their cars. They honked and gave us thumbs ups of encouragement. We also hoped they thought, "Hmmm... I wonder how I could bike up to the base of Mt. Adams for my next climb."

After dinner and a few hours of sleep, we awoke and climbed Mt. Adams in our bike clothes and shoes. (Shimano SPD clips act kind of like crampons, and bike gloves work surprisingly well to brace youself during the glissade downhill. But you can be sure, we got plenty of funny looks from people completely geared up with crampons and ice axes). We met up with the other Watershed folks in time for the 10am descent from the summit. After the descent, we did the single-track mountain bike portion on the tandem. Some friends took our backpack in their car, so we were a little more nimble. Even without a backpack, mountain biking on a tandem is burly. I was nervous a few times, but took deep breaths and put all my trust and confidence in Gene's bike handling abilities. He did great. Back on the road, with gravity and pavement on our side, we flew downhill back to White Salmon. Tired and slightly sore, we fell asleep before sunset. Next year we hope to do the entire Watershed Relay, from Portland, unsupported. We'll see. More pictures and descriptions are here.

Last weekend (July 11-12), we went to our friends' wedding. Scott and Katja were getting married on the flanks of Mt. St. Helens. Only 50 miles from Portland, we figured we'd make a bike trip out of it. Again, we could have easily carpooled with other friends from Portland, but we want to make a go of it. Sure, anything under five miles and 30 lbs of carrying is a done deal (it will be done on bicycle). But a wedding? 50 miles away? Let's try it.

We made it, and gladly pulled into the field where our friends had pitched their tents. We hopped into a bunkhouse for a stealth shower and cleaned up real nice! We perhaps didn't dance as hard as we might have if we had driven in a car, but it was still a good time.

Congratulations Scott and Katja! A little birdie told us you got a tandem as a wedding present, so we are looking forward to some double Dil- car-free adventures.

Retiring the Header; Shift to IKnowTrash.com

2009-07-07T18:20:00.000-07:00

My travels have come to a close. I am extraordinarily grateful to the Stevens Fellowship Committee for granting me the opportunity to follow my passion (my trashion!) in Europe and Central America over the past eight months. I saw a lot, learned a ton, and feel confident that I can serve as a trash ambassador for many years to come.

I have put together a professional website (I Know Trash .com). I am currently looking for work in the solid waste industry, so if you know of any opportunities, especially in Portland, OR, send them my way!

I hereby retire this blogspot header. It has served me well.

This space may (or may not) be updated with future pursuits, trash cans, or recycling randomness. Wherever I go, whatever I do, I am at your disposal.

Till next time,
Meredith

Association of Oregon Recycler's Conference, and 113 miles home

2009-06-12T07:55:00.001-07:00

After a quick visit to my folks in New Jersey, Gene and I flew out to Redmond, Oregon. I had been invited to speak at the Association of Oregon Recyclers (AOR) 2009 Conference.

We landed at the tiny airport and rolled our bags over to an open space next to the ticket counter (see photo with bike parts sprawled on the floor). An hour-and-a-half later, bike and trailer assembled, we rolled out of the airport on our tandem. We pedaled fast so I could make it to Jerry Powell's talk on Recycling Markets. I felt a little funny showing up sweaty, in my cycling outfit, but the Oregon recycling community is very relaxed and friendly.

My talk on Saturday, June 11 -- the keynote -- went well. Lots of people came up to me and said, "I really liked your speech." I take that as a good sign. The presentation forced me to organize my photos is a meaningful way. Also, even though I get nervous, I do like public speaking because it forces me to synthesize my thoughts. Finally, I used this opportunity to put together a professional website : IKnowTrash.com.

Saturday night was jolly. At the banquet, the Port of Portland received an award for their stellar waste minimization program. That was a proud moment for me because even though I have not worked on that project for a year, I know I was been a key player in its success. This photo is of me, Michael Budds, Mitch Frister, and Shanna Eller, all members of the CES (Community Environmental Services) crew. Stan Jones, who heads up the Port waste minimization and recycling program, should be in the photo but was busy playing in his band. Talented fellow.

After the conference, Gene and I biked 175 miles home to Portland, OR. Our last day was the longest of this trip: 113 miles. Cycling in Oregon in June was such a treat: cool temperatures, moderate grades, beautiful scenery, and long daylight hours. It was still light when we rolled into Portland at 9pm.

Portland has a comprehensive recycling program. Better yet, the community is starting to target waste reduction efforts, as evidenced by this billboard we passed on the way into town. I am scoping out the scene and trying to figure out options that would allow me to work with inspiring individuals on meaningful projects. Send good job thoughts my way.

Costa Rica

2009-06-07T19:54:00.000-07:00

We crossed into Costa Rica, the 6th country of our trip, on May 23, 2009. We noticed lots more single occupancy vehicles. We also noticed how little litter there was on the side of the road.

We pedaled down the InterAmericana Highway through the Guanacaste towns of Liberia, Cañas, and Esparza. At that point, we turned south. We wanted to both avoid the traffic of the capital, San José, as well as experience some of the mountains. Everyone we spoke to said we were crazy -- that the hills were extreme and that we should stick to the coast. We figured we would give it a try, and if it really was too hilly, we could just roll back down to the coast.

Hah. Once we got up and over the first hill, we realized there was no return. Our gearing was limited due to some hub issues. Plus we had a fully-loaded trailer with all of our camping supplies, water, and laptop. So, when it got too steep, we got off and pushed up the hills.

It was beautiful, lush country. We benefitted from the simple generosity from so many people that found our story compelling. One man bought us an amazing lunch with delicious fresh pineapple juice. A young man, the owner of a fledgling bakery in a small town, told us our donuts and coffee were on the house when we went up to pay. A third guy, a delivery man that sold snacks to local businesses, handed us doritos and fanta out his window as we leap-frogged through the hills, with us moving slow and him stopping at different shops on the side of the road. He was our snack angel.

We went through Orotina, Santiago de Puriscal, and finally to San Ignacio de Acosta. At that point, we decided we had "experienced" the hills enough. We packed up our bike into the suitcases/trailer and hitchhiked back to the highway, past the Cerro de la Muerte, and down into San Isidro de El General. Between the fog, treacherous curves, and pouring rain, I was quite fine traveling on four wheels through that section.

We reassembled the tandem, climbed up out of the San Isidro valley and dropped down to a sleepy surfing town called Dominical. We then went up the coast to Matapalo where Gene lived 20 years ago, for nine months, with his mom and sister. It was, quite literally, a walk down memory lane.

Surprisingly, not much had changed in Matapalo. Gene remembered the school, the store, and the bridge. A few guest houses and huts had sprung up to cater to the surf scene, but overall it was a sleepy sandy-path, coconut tree oasis. We stayed in Matapalo for two nights, sleeping 50 feet from where Gene's house used to be.

Michel, a lovely man, put us up in his extra cabin (a generous term). We shared meals and swapped stories. Michel taught us how to play dominoes; we helped him fix his roof. We jumped in the warm ocean periodically throughout the day. The beach was stunning.

On our way up the coast, a friend of Michel's invited us to his property, Finca Cascade. We scrambled up the rocks past his 20 waterfalls. Except for the monkeys, we had the place to ourselves. We swam in the bright blue pools.

We then pedaled our last leg up the dirt road to Quepos. That stretch of road is doomed to be "developed": the section between Dominical and Quepos is slated to be paved by September 2009. We saw the trucks, tractors, and asphault operation gearing up. Ahhh, development. What a funny concept.

We packed up the bike and caught a bus into San José. The pedestrian malls through downtown felt European. We managed to connect with new friends and old, which always makes a city more lively. On June 4, 2009, we flew to the USA with our eyes on the horizon.

Granada and Rivas, Nicaragua

2009-05-24T12:58:00.000-07:00

Never use FedEx. At least, not if you are in Nicaragua.

FedEx routed our replacement hub to Europe because someone at their hub (heh, lots of hubs) in Memphis thought Nicaragua was in Africa. After three weeks of phone calls and emails between Bike Friday, FedEx, and us, the hub was finally delivered, ironically, by a kid on a mountain bike.

Back on our bike, we headed south through Sebaco. Gene thrilled the local kids with a ride on the back of the bike while I marveled at the amazing veggies in the market. We continued south. Just as it was getting dark, we rolled into a little town where a nice man and his wife let us camp in their sideyard.

People are so friendly and curious when you travel by bike. About 20 people gathered as we unpacked our house (tent), beds (thermarests), and kitchen (stove). That night we got hammered by a rainstorm, but luckily stayed dry in the tent.

The next day, we rolled into Granada. In Granada, a friend of a friend, Bill, graciously showed us around town. Bill is one of those guys that speaks five languages (or more), has lived overseas more than half his life, and knows a whole lot about a range of subjects. Of course, I asked about the trash scene in Granada. Bill said that a German is helping Granada digitize all of their documents and tracking information. Hopefully, with a more robust database, Granada will be able to track who is paying for garbage service and identify inefficiencies in their system.

So much of our experience in a town is driven by the people we meet. Largely owing to our pleasant introduction (via Bill), we were quite smitten by Granada and its charming streets, old churches, and historic buildings. After one day of gringo-land, we were ready to roll south. It was Friday, and I was eager to meet with the City of Rivas' mayor's office.

We pedaled hard and made it to Rivas by 1pm. I quickly showered and walked down to the mayor's office. I had been told by Matagalpa's mayor's office that Rivas had the first sanitary landfill of Nicaragua. Rivas' solid waste guy met my queries with blank stares: "Nope, lady, all we have is a big landfill. You can visit it, if ya like."

So we did. Saturday morning, we rode the tandem out to the dump. Federico, who has worked at the dump for nine years, showed us around. It is a very quiet operation. About 15-20 people glean out materials from the 7-8 truckloads per day. Looking at all of the organic material, I asked if anyone composted. Nope, he said, the only money is in aluminum.

Mounds of plastic bottles and other materials are stored next to houses of the people that work in the dump. Like the rest of the world, they are waiting for the markets to bounce.

We headed south down the Interamerican Highway, and made a quick stop on Lake Nicaragua to look out to Isla de Ometepe, rising out of the choppy waters.

Onward to Costa Rica.

Connect the Dots, La la la la.

2009-05-14T15:53:00.001-07:00

For all the folks that like maps, here is a visual representation of our progress through Mexico, Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras, and Nicaragua.

1558.4 kilometers, mas o menos.

Giddy' up!

Matagalpa Invests in 2nd Sanitary Landfill in Nicaragua

2009-05-14T09:13:00.000-07:00

When Gene and I rolled into Esteli, Nicaragua, I hoped to bump my "hablar" and "escribir" into the next text bracket. My one-on-one Spanish instruction evolved into field trips with my teacher, Elsa, to local dumps. This post is about our visit to Matagalpa, the home of Nicaragua's 2nd sanitary landfill.

Elsa and I took a 1.5-hour bus ride over to Matagalpa. This breadbasket region of Nicaragua has onions, rice, coffee, tobacco, and vegetables pouring out of fields and into markets. We walked through the city of Matagalpa, past the cemetary, and up a few kilometers on a rolling, dirt road. We turned a corner, and there it was: the current Matagalpa dump. It is a beautiful place surrounded by lush, green hills.

We walked through the trash scenery, heading towards a group crowded around a truck that was unloading its waste. Cows milled in one corner. Vultures picked at a bag dripping with a suspicious, red liquid. The leader of the waste pickers, Miguel Angel Betanco, came out from the group and greeted us.

Miguel gave us some numbers and stories on the Matagalpa dump.

Amount of time he has worked in this dump: 15 years.
Population that scavenge in the Matagalpa dump: 50-80 people.
Amount of trash delivered per day: 8 truck loads.
Average income per person per day from gleanings: 40-50 cordobas per day ($2-$2.50).

As we talked, a group gathered around and dogs came in close. The key ingredients to any scavenger's wardrobe is sturdy boots and a stick. The best materials to collect are aluminum, copper, and scrap metal. Miguel said that people routinely get food out of the trash, but that most are careful to check the expiration dates. As he spoke, I watched a kid reach his hand into the pile of trash, dig out a mango, and take a bite.

Unlike the chaos I saw at the landfill in Guatemala City or the scenes depicted in Slumdog Millionaire, this Matagalpa landfill was tranquil, almost bucolic. They arrive at the landfill in the morning, sort through trash, then return home. I admit: I'm a romantic. We didn't visit anyone's home, and from what I understand, their houses are largely dirt-floor shacks with marginal roofs that leak in the rainy season. No one wants to live like this for very long. One organization that also works in Tijuana, Mexico, is currently fundraising to get the kids clean water and a place to study. Clearly these people have needs, but overall, it seemed mellow.

By the time we had finished our interview, everyone had finished scavaging and the cows had moved in on the pile. We said goodbye and walked back into town to the mayor's office. Elsa and I met with four people that afternoon. They were all helpful, organized, and motivated. It was amazing. The head of Solid Waste offered to bring us on a tour of their yet-to-be-opened-brand-spanking-new sanitary landfill.

The next morning after a two-hour delay, we finally hopped in a truck and went 11km outside the city. The road was bumpy. At one point we forged through a river. Our guide, Fernando, mentioned that the river would make the dump difficult to access in the rainy season. Not a single piece of litter lined the road. This is completely virgin land: only touched by the farmers that currently live out there.

We saw the processing facility.
We peeked into the storage facility that will hold segregated items for sale.
We looked at the composting structure, which was basically an overhang with two hose bibs.
We drove out to the sanitary landfill, which is a big cement swimming pool with a filter running down the middle. They plan to install 23 of these swimming pools, ahem, landfills, throughout the property by the end of the project. Total cost of the project: 17,000,000 cordobas ($850,000USD).

Essentially, we saw lots of freshly-poured cement.

I could not see any redeeming quality about this new site. It is 3-4 times further away from the current site, which will increase transportation costs. There's that issue of getting over the river in the rainy season. It is in untouched countryside. In a region with very cheap labor and very few mechanics, its operation plan seemed equipment-heavy.

GIVEN THIS INFORMATION... (Thank you, Aldo Aravz, Director of Municipal Services).... Matagalpa, population 109,000, has 14,920 residences and 18 commercial centers. The topography of the city (very hilly) makes collecting waste challenging: only 83% of the city gets waste services. Thus, there are 63 illegal dumping spots. The City has 7 trucks, but only 5 of them work. The river that runs along the west side of town is chronically filled with waste. Approximately 70-80% of the city's waste is organic. Only 35% of the town pays its waste collection bill.

Given this information, they built buildings, poured landfills, and made plans to buy more trucks??!! They installed a four-system sort bin outside their office with "glass" as a category? No one carries glass bottles in town.

THIS IS WHAT I WOULD DO...Flatten out some land at the current landfill. Buy a 20-foot industrial conveyor belt. Hire folks from the landfill to sort the materials that arrive. Spread out the hiring so that all families from the current-landfill-working-families benefit. Start sorting everything; start composting. There are only eight truckloads per day; once the loads from those trucks is sorted, start sorting the landfill waste that is already there. Employ people while making the landfill smaller each day. At the same time, start an education outreach campaign in the city. Invest in rubber boots and rubber gloves, and begin a River Clean Up effort on the first Saturday of every month. Also, invest in the collection of dues: currently only 35% of the population pays their garbage bill? As the collector knocks on each door for 10-50 cordobas ($0.50-$2.50) per household per month, if people cannot pay, sign them up for a 2-hour clean-up slot where they will pick up litter in their neighborhood.

Why is this hard to do? Because it is so much easier to invest in infrastructure than it is to invest in people.

A Polo Field, Hot Coast, and Three Border Crossings

2009-05-09T15:39:00.000-07:00

We rolled out of San Andreas Ixtapa, waving goodbye to our MayaPedal buddies and keen to be back on the road. We skirted to the south of Antigua, dropped mucho elevation, slid through Escuintla, and coasted (heh) onto the Pacific lowlands of Guatemala. Volcanos kept us company to our left as we rolled through relatively flat terrain with cows and sugar cane.

The first night we tried to camp at a African Safari Theme Park (I know, random), but the owners were worried we would get eaten by the tigers. Instead, we pitched our tent up the road on a polo field (even more random). Flat earth, with meticulously pruned grass? Can we please take a doggie bag and roll out grass like this for camping every night? Except for the mosquitoes and brutal heat, it was delightful. Gene practiced his polo shot on our tandem horse.

We crossed into El Salvador with perhaps the most mellow border crossing of my life. The guards were hanging out on the bridge. Kids were jumping off the bridge into the river. It was dusk, and everything felt so relaxed. It was weird, too, to suddenly be using US dollars (El Salvador's currency). I was still in the habit of translating prices into dollars, and ended up having sentences in my head, "So these cookies are 25 cents... so... they're... $0.25. Got it."

We really liked El Salvador. It's Central America's biggest secret. Sure, there are 15 murders per day in the capital. But if you stick to the beach, you will find pupusas (really yummy tortillas stuffed with beans and cheese, eaten with cabbage and salsa...yummy), friendly people, and warm oceans with perfect waves.

Even with beautiful surroundings, it wasn't easy. I got sick for a few days. It was brutally hot. My butt hurt tremendously from my saddle. We body-surfed a few times in El Tunco, but I mostly remember clutching my stomach in intestinal pain. I resorted to a rice-and-banana diet for two days. I was so grumpy, and just wanted to jump off the bike and throw tantrums. Blagh. One night, in a disgusting hotel, I broke down and cried, "This is so hard! We're biking. My butt hurts. We go cheap on everything. It is so hot. Everything itches. All I do is daydream about air conditioning and cold juice." (I know: total wuss moment.) Gene calmly replied, "That's the point. We wouldn't be doing this if it was easy." And all of a sudden everything turned on its head. Strangely, the world felt better again. Thanks, Gene.

We crossed paths with some incredible cyclists. One morning in El Salvador, we were biking along at a good clip. We passed this guy in yellow. He pedaled harder and caught up to us. He then hung with us for 15 kilometers. On a mountain bike. With his 10-year-old son on the back. We were easily doing 30 kph (19 mph). We were so impressed and wanted to hug him! Instead, we bought him and his son breakfast. Gene also inflated his tires and added grease to his rusty chain. What an athlete.

This guy was biking his two kids to school. Through two feet of snow. Uphill both ways. (Okay, not really, but they max out their bikes here.)

Honduras was a three-day adventure of tropical coast, climbing, and then rolling hills. We went through more than ten gallons of water in that time. This is a picture from our usual routine: we buy a big jug, fill up our water bottles, and then drink the rest. We then roll onwards, feeling like seals with so much water in our bellies and in our trailer. We are addicted to TANG and all of its flavors. Orange is our favorite, but lemon comes in close second. It is a bit disturbing to drink eight liters in a day, and then pee only once. Before I go any further, I'll stop this paragraph and take a sip of water.

We crossed the border into Nicaragua at the end of April 2009. Nicaragua. Nicaraguita. The land of poets, murals, and history buffs. Our first night we camped on a baseball field I thought it was some random project, but it turns out that baseball is Nicaragua's national sport.

The next day, just 20 km from our destination of the week -- Esteli, Nicaragua -- we heard a crunch. Gene pulled over. We loosened the rear wheel and it completely broke apart, falling in pieces. ¨That doesn´t look good,¨I thought. Our axle had broken! Snapped in two. In three! I didn´t know axles could break.

We disassembled the bike on the side of the road, packed it up in the suitcases, and hitched a ride into Esteli. While Bike Friday worked to get us a new hub, we enrolled in Spanish school. I turned my Spanish teacher into a solid waste expert. Instead of having class in school, we went to landfills. Instead of homework, I drafted questions for the Solid Waste departments at the Mayors' offices. We went to a brand new sanitary landfill in Matagalpa. More to come in the next few posts...

I Want This Town to Make it Work.

2009-05-04T15:53:00.000-07:00

I want this town to make it work.

The town is San Andreas Ixtapa, Guatemala. It's 45 minutes from Antigua. Its population is 19,000 (including the nine surrounding villages).

A man, Luis, runs a waste collection business in San Andreas Ixtapa. He goes from house to house, two times per week, and picks up the trash with his ridiculously strong assistant, Hilverto (photo, right). One day, as Hilverto picked up the trash, I ran up to the truck and asked if I could take pictures. Luis said okay. I then asked if I could see their operation. After trying to put me off (no, I don´t mind flies. no, I don´t mind smells), he agreed to bring me to his dump site. Here is what transpired.

After making his collection rounds through town, Luis drives us in his big, white truck (full of waste) out to his farm ten minutes to the south side of town. There, I watch as his son throws bags of trash out the back of the truck. Luis and Hilverto tear the bags apart, pulling out plastic bottles, glass bottles, metal, and other bulky items. The piles of stuff around the farm indicate other gleanings: big plastic jugs strung together; an old banner casting shade next to the tin shack; I even see a stack of cardboard egg crates smooshed together.

It is the usual trash scene: Flies buzz. The dogs nose through open bags. I ask Luis the hardest part of the job. He replies with his finger, pointing to a bag of raw chicken thrown away by vendors in the market. Looking into a bag of rotting flesh, I agree: this is gross. (And no, Luis and Hilverto are not wearing gloves or any semblance of safety gear.) Anything that does not get gleaned out of the bags of trash gets raked into the ravine behind the trash pile.

Once upon a time, Luis went to the effort of segregating organic materials and throwing them in a hole. He climbs into some bushes and brings out a handful of rich earth, and explains how compost works. His hole of compost is filled, and he no longer segregates organics.

I wrap up the tour. Luis washes his hands and escorts me to the bottom of the hill. As we walk, we talk about his options. Luis charges 20 Q ($2.40 USD) per month for this service. He feels he cannot increase his charges because people will either switch to the other service in town (the municipality, which doesn´t even acknowledge his presence), or households will begin to dump their waste directly in the river.

He is a committed dude, trying to get the recyclables out of the waste stream, but he has been doing this work -- by hand -- for ten years. I think he is tired. Commited, but tired. I mention that in some cities, trash collection costs money while recycling is free.

What if... (his eyes lit up and he continued the thought for me)...

...he increased costs to 25 Q per month for people who continued to throw trash away, but offered ¨reduced¨ charges of 20 Q a month for people that segregated recycling? That would not only keep his revenue generation steady (or increased), but would also yield greater segregation rates at the front end.

My mind was spinning with visions.

This town could be the poster child for recycling in Central America. He could paint his truck with "we recycle" and have a mural depicting the different recycled materials. The city could host waste management conferences. The town could take pride in having clean rivers. Kids could participate in neighborhood cleanups every month. They could apply math skills by participating in a waste sort (where they would separate and weigh the waste stream, then create pie charts representing the waste composition). Antigua, 45 minutes away, full of well-meaning do-good travelers; they would eat it up (ie: ¨Tour The Town That Recycles for Ten Dollars¨). Residents would like living in a cleaner city that had clean rivers (see photo, right, showing the current state of the river, chock full of plastics and trash). Crops would grow better with locally produced compost.

Oh this could be good.

But it just needs someone to bring it all together.

There's a Peace Corps Volunteer in San Andreas Ixtapa. She's motivated (she just started her first worm bin). She's got her hands full with a lot of other projects (Sustainable Agriculture Marketing). But maybe this waste management angle will develop. I wrote up ten pages of notes and ideas. Like any good community project, the driving force can't be her; it has to be the community. Whether they want cleaner rivers, more eco-tourism, or lower fees, this town could make it work.... if the town wants to make it work.

G´luck, Sara. G´luck, Luis. G´luck San Andreas Ixtapa. Keep me posted.

Volcanic S'mores

2009-05-01T13:59:00.001-07:00

This post has nothing to do with garbage.

In mid-April we climbed Pacaya, a volcano outside of Antigua, Guatemala. Rosie, a rock star Reed College lady (also from Portland, OR) joined us for the day.

The climb was mellow -- a few kilometers up a gentle, dusty path. Then we got to the part where the rocks were only three-days old. When we stood in one place for too long, our shoes started to melt. The hot air scorched my legs.

We scrambled over to a spot where we could see the lava through the rocks. We then performed the power play of the mountain by pulling the following out of our backpack: marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate. (Gene had picked up long sticks on the hike.) If you click on the picture of me with the stick and marshmallow, you can see the red lava beneath the puffed ball of sugar.

Volcanic s'mores are delicious. We shared with some Canadians and they were psyched.

Just after this picture was taken, I had quite a scare when someone above us dislodged a rock. It came tumbling towards me in slow motion. I couldn't move. Luckily, it broke right above my ankle and rolled to the side. (I felt like I was in an Indiana Jones movie stunt, only I emitted a girlish squeal. Yes. I admit it. I was scared.) Besides toasted sandals, I got off lucky with just a scrape.

We walked down the volcano that evening with bellies full of roasted sugar and chocolate. Mmmm.

Safe Passage

2009-04-30T16:16:00.001-07:00

While in Guatemala, we visited an organization called Safe Passage, or ¨Camino Seguro." Approximately 2,000 people scavenge in Guatemala City´s dumps, plucking out materials for sale or reuse. The working conditions are unsavory to say the least: the dump, which we looked at from afar, is smelly and dangerous. Safe Passage, started in 1999, provides social services -- food and educational support -- to the children of the families that work in the dumps.

Our tour guide, Freddy, said that approximately 60% of the 7,000 tons of waste tipped daily in the Guatemala City dump is gleaned out and recycled. If this is true, Guatemala City has one of the highest recycling rates of the world! (I want to see some numbers.)

Maya Pedal

2009-04-13T07:37:00.000-07:00

Here is a photo from the roof of Maya Pedal, an organization that recycles bike frames into machines. Volunteers from all over the world come here to fix bikes, make bike machines (bici maquinas, if ya wanna speak the local spoke), practice welding, or just help out. The guy who runs the shop – Carlos – is the main cog of this operation. We saw Maya Pedal during a slightly disfunctional chapter of its life, but I think the concept is a good one: use pedal-powered technology to increase efficiency and reduce oil dependency. (That's my interpretation of Maya Pedal's purpose.)

What is a bike machine? Imagine a bike attached to a blender so you can make a smoothie in the middle of a market without electricity. Picture a bike frame connected to a pump in the middle of a field: voila, you can water your crops. The list of bike machines goes on -- some, admittedly, more useful than others. The local women's coop, for example, uses bike machines to grind aloe plants into shampoo.

Our stay overlapped with a bunch of lively folks from North America -- all friendly, talented, and fun. We cooked meals, got greasy with bike parts, and learned about freewheel hubs. Gene was a pro bike mechanic. I streamlined the waste systems in the kitchen (no more fruit flies!).

After a couple weeks, we got back on our bike machine and pedaled on.

Semana Santa: Pac Man with Easter

2009-04-13T07:27:00.000-07:00

April 8-12, 2009 was holy week, or Semana Santa. Apparently Antigua has the largest processions in Central America, but we decided to stay in a smaller town, San Andreas Ixtapa, to experience a more local vibe.

The Catholic contingent of town created alfombras (carpets) throughout the streets using natural materials such as palm flowers, sawdust, fruit, pine cones, and pine needles. The alfombras were beautiful and included vases of flowers (made out of flowers), stenciled portraits of Jesus, and patterns in the pine needles using dyed sawdust. All ages helped. They sprayed down the roads with water, used cardboard cutouts (used year after year) to be precise with the decorations, and carefully spritzed the patterns with water throughout the day to keep it in place. The procession exited the church and walked through town OVER the alfombras. Smooshed and strewn to bits, a crew with shovels and brooms swept up the decorations while folks moved in to create even more elaborate decorations for later in the afternoon.

Imagine a religious version of Pac-Man, eating up stripes of the alfombras throughout the city.

The procession included swinging incense, a float with Jesus, kids scooping up fruit, a small band, a generator and people walking. Carrying the float and walking count as part of their penance. We thought the ceremony that evening was IT, but then, up through Easter Sunday, I saw people creating even more alfombras, sporadically through the streets. I don't know the full score, but there was a lot going on.

I cringe to think of anyone that KNOWS the ceremony in depth reading this. My description: "There was sawdust in pretty colors! The community worked together! They walked for hours in the hot sun! Kids scooped up fruit! Jesus, depicted in various poses, was on a big float!" Oh gee.

The fact is that it was such an honor to witness this tradition, especially in comparison to our "traditions" and the overabundance of chocolate, candy, and plastic figurines.

We Heart Guatemala´s Police

2009-04-13T07:17:00.000-07:00

We were originally going to bike around Lake Atitlan (poor photo on the right of a volcano at sunset), but after gathering information about the road conditions (serious ups and downs) and safety concerns (potential bandits on the south side of the lake), we decided to hitch a ride on a boat.

In Panachel, we ran into Jenna, who runs Jenna´s B&B. Her daughter wrote a book, “Our Atitlan,” with local kids about life on the Lake. I really liked the book – it had fun content and a really good design. You can buy Our Atitlan here on lulu.com.

So up till this point, we had occasionally passed the Guatemalan police. They were usually on the side of the road in their black pickup trucks, or perhaps standing outside the local equivalent of a donut shop. Their usefulness? Debatable.

Until now.

Now, the Guatemalan police are our HEROS.

On a serious climb out of Panachel from Lake Atitlan, we heard a funny pop. A few kilometers later, we heard another pop. Gene, practical guy that he is, realized that something felt funny and stopped. It turns out that we had sheered two of the steel ball bearings of the rear hub in half. (We generate a lot of force when both of us are pedaling hard). It was dusk. The police passed us as we were walking along the road (one of the road we heard was dangerous after dark). They stopped, turned around, and picked us up (Gene road in the back, holding the bike), and not only drove us to the next town, but then on to their outpost in the middle of the woods. We camped behind their tent. They brought us a jug of potable water and were very friendly (we reciprocated by feeding the sentry on duty dinner and cookies). They have a LOT of time on their hands. The next morning, they drove us to the next town, right to the bike shop. We took them out to breakfast. We now wave at each and every Guatemalan police truck with a hearty smile.

It took a few more hours to get the right ball bearings, and even then Gene had to do some adjustments. Eventually we got to back on the bike and made our way down the road to the highway (sweet, blessed, graded-climbs-and-descents highway), through Chimaltenango, and into San Andreas Ixtapa, a little town where we have been volunteering for MayaPadal, an organization that recycles bikes into machines such as a corn grinder, blender, and water pump.

Walls of Waste

2009-04-13T06:28:00.000-07:00

San Marcos on the shores of Lake Atitlan is home to a crafty lady, Susana Heisse, who turns plastic bottles into bricks. Her organization, Pura Vida Atitlan, stuffs plastic bottles tightly with dry, plastic waste (wrappers and bags), and then uses the resulting material for construction. I am not so sure of the structural integrity of this process, but what an interesting concept as a way to transform plastic materials into a building material... especially in a rural community, without waste management infructures, in a low-tech process. I especially like that Susana´s group has been doing waste audits every two years to monitor the recycling rates of her community. Yeah data.

The photo is of a demonstration wall, with a hole in the plaster so you can see the steel frame, plastic bottle-and-bag filling, and coated walls. The wall is then painted with an information mural.

Xela to Lake Atitlan: Steaming Brakes

2009-04-13T06:20:00.000-07:00

After a dusty climb (due to roadwork) out of Xela, we arrived at the bit of Guatemala referred to as “Alaska”. According to the guidebook, this region turns white with frost in the mornings. We then had the best downhill of the entire journey into Nahuala, dramatically weaving in and out of clouds, coming out of curvy corners into a bright blue sky. I felt so alive. At one point we were rolling at 79 kilometers per hour (49 mph).

After documenting a few locations of burning trash by the side of the road (there were flames in the site pictured on the right), we turned off the highway onto a side road that went towards San Pedro and San Marcos on the shores of Lake Atitlan.

We had a really tough uphill climb to the lip of the caldera. Kids ran with us on the flats.

At the rim, we put on our rain gear, expecting to get chilly on a steep descent. Hah! Little did we realize that a STEEP descent equals HEAT.

A kilometer into the downhill, Gene pulled over. He said he started seeing sparks. It turns out our front hub drum break was overheating, and little bits of the break pads were incinerating upon contact with the extreme heat. I sprayed water on the hub, which hissed, steamed and sizzled. The rims on the tires were hot, too, from all the braking. We got into a routine where every half-kilometer, Gene would pull over, I would hop off, get the water out of the trailer, squirt down the hub, front rims, rear rims, and the front hub again, put the water back into the trailer, and hop back on. We went from having the best downhill earlier in the day to having the worst, most tedious downhill at the end of the day.

We finally turned a corner and could see the lake, a few communities on the shores, warmly lit in the late-afternoon sun. There was also garbage on the side of the road, with dogs.

We thought that perhaps once we got down to the lake, the road would get easier. Not so. Down near the shore, there were still vicious ups and downs. We were glad to get to our destination just as it was getting dark: San Marcos, a peaceful little place with cliffs to jump off of into the lake, one street food lady, and lots of folks that dig meditation, yoga, and healing cleanses.

Huehuetenanto to Xela

2009-04-13T05:52:00.000-07:00

In the highlands of Guatemala, you are either going uphill or downhill. We struck out from Huehuetenango on Sunday, March 29, 2009 at 7am, headed decidedly UP. We got about an hour-and-a-half of riding in before a hearty breakfast of rice, beans, hard-boiled eggs, tortillas, and coffee (“coffee” being a generous term for the highly-sweetened Nescafe served in most places; I guess the good beans are sent overseas where they fetch a higher price). Some climbs present a clear goal: a slot horizon or a distinct saddle in the mountains with a road cut. This road was more elusive – the curves and mountain range unfolded as we steadily pedaled uphill on the curvy highway.That night, we camped in a big field in San Cristobal Totonicapan, the crossroads for Xela, Guatemala City, and Huehuetenango.

We had really friendly interactions with the locals in San Cristobal Totonicapan. The first person we talked to was Antonio (age 34) who was watching kids kick a soccer ball with his two kids, Angelica (3) and Pedro (6). Antonio spent eight years on-and-off in the States working construction. It seems that most men we meet have spent 2-8 years in the States doing similar work. As we do whenever we camp in a public space, we sounded it out with the locals: “We have a tent. We were thinking about setting it up over near the stream where it is flat and grassy. You think it’s okay?” Sure.

As we set up the tent in the setting sun, Antonio and his kids came over to watch. Another old man (age 70) came over, too, lounging on a mound in the grass. He really liked to call us “mister” and “missus”. They all were interested in our stove, so Gene showed them how it works and described how long it takes to boil a pot of water.

I asked the old man what they did with their trash in this town. He heartily replied that they chuck it directly in the river.

The next morning, we met Martina. It is funny how this town, barely a comma in the guidebook, was so nice to us.

Conversely, 15 kilometers down the road is Quetzaltenango (Xela). It has many delights: excursions (trekking, volcano summiting, cool day trips to hot springs), is a language school hub, and has the magic traveler ingredients: internet and ice cream. It even had an unintentional funny homonym: Xela, pronounced SHAY-lah, sells milk called Xelac. Heh. SHAH-lac. Sounds shiny. For whatever reason, we didn’t really click with Xela.

There was a paper sorting facility down the street from our hostel, Casa Argentina. Three women (and a baby) were hand-sorting piles of paper into four categories. The owner (right) stores the sorted paper in gunny sacks and brings loads into Guatemala City.

The waste worker on the right let me take his picture, but only when I agreed to give him a copy of the photo. I hope it got to him.

Mario and Martina

2009-04-03T14:34:00.001-07:00

While Gene and I are a friendly crew, I think it is safe to say that the tandem opens up lots of additional doors to friendships, however brief.

Insert Mario, a friendly man that runs a bike shop in Huehuetenango. On a hunt for de-greaser and a new chain ring, we entered his shop. When we mentioned we were on a bike tour on a tandem, he said, "Is it green? With a trailer? I saw you biking through the central square yesterday. Come in!"

We returned to his shop later that day, and he told us he ran a bar down the street (K-lua, for anyone going to Huehue). That night we stopped by for a drink. Expressing interest in the surrounding communities, he said, "Come to my shop at 1:30pm and I'll show you the hills." Sure enough, the next day he drove us all the way up to the lookout above Huehuetenango -- it felt like we were on top of the planet. Then, we went further down the road to Cuchumantanes, a land of windswept plains, and shared an incredible meal of ram, multi-colored beans, fresh cheese and (of course) tortillas.

Mario is such a kind, generous man. He felt like a father-figure and friend, immediately bringing us into his circle of warmth, largely because he is just one of those people, but also because of our shared interest in cycling.

Another friendship, much more brief, was with a woman named Martina. We had just packed up our tent and camp things when she came over on the field (it was a public space in San Cristobal Totonicapan, outside of Xela). She said, "I saw that you were going to sleep here last night and thought, nooo. Were you warm enough?" We assured her, we were. "Well next time," she continued, "you come over and knock on my door. It's right over there." [my interpretation of the dialogue]

She said lots more -- mostly friendly chit-chat. It warmed my heart. It made me think, in my hometown, if I see strangers camping in the local park, I will walk over and make sure they are doing okay.

Yeah, that feels honest.

2009-04-01T14:56:00.000-07:00

People say where they go on trips... but the place doesn't really come ALIVE for me until I locate it on a map.

For those of you who do not have your atlas out as you browse this blog, here's a map of the places we have covered on the tandem since mid-March, 2009. The pin pricks identify locations where we took photos: trash, landscapes, people, and the bike are featured prominently.

Portland (OR) Recycles in Parks

2009-03-31T09:30:00.000-07:00

A few days ago, I got an email that mentioned how Portland, OR, is bursting with blooming trees and budding flowers. Today, I got an email from a friend that the park in our neighborhood now has recycling containers. Thanks for the photo, Dave!

Water and Milk

2009-03-28T11:34:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite comments about our bike has been in regard to the water bottles. We each have a clear bottle and a white bottle in our cages. A man observing the different parts of the bike mused aloud, "Oh, one bottle for water [pointing to the clear one], and one for milk [pointing to the white bottle]."

So obvious. So logical. And yet, so wrong. Milk? On a bike ride? Yuck! Makes me realize how many zillion situations I am probably misinterpreting in these different cultures.

Roadside Attractions on the Way to Huehuetenango, Guatemala

2009-03-28T10:08:00.000-07:00

San Cristobal de las Casas, Mexico, could have had wider sidewalks (more and more I am convinced that the two ingredients that make a city palatable are wide sidewalks and trees), but overall it satisfied our needs with pastries, a cool climate, internet connections, and a women workforce cleanup crew. (The tourist information office said that men drive the trucks and collect residential and business waste; women push the carts and sweep the streets.) We even ran into some friends from Oaxaca (small world). We rolled out of town through pine trees, thinking that four days off the bike would render us fresh and sporty. Our butts still hurt and our legs did not exactly gush with strength. But we kept pedaling.

Like I mentioned in my last post, traveling by bike lets us take in the local scenery pedal stroke by pedal stroke. There are so many subtle variations in the landscape. One valley housed woodworkers, with folks planing boards and making bedroom furniture and cabinets. In another valley, pottery and ornate ceramic birds lined the roadside (mmmm... fragile, heavy items... no purchases this trip). The consistent theme though, no matter where we roll, is trash.

The composition of the trash lining the roads is mostly plastic bottles (and their plastic cousins). Close to a town. In a town. Outside of a town. Far away from a town. We see plastic bottles all over. Anywhere there's a sign, "Don't put trash here (see photo right)," there's sure to be trash. The sources range from intentional -- from dumping bags of rubbish to chucking broken cd's out the window -- to careless -- blowing out the back of a truck -- to somewhere in between. One man's business cards littered the side of the road for at least three kilometers. Was this curious propaganda for his business? Or had he just packed up his office and accidentally left his trunk open? Or was his kid mischievously chucking the cards out the window? (One of his cards is now taped inside my journal).

Anywhere there is a pullout next to the road, there is a measure of trash. Sometimes it is combined with a putrid, acidic smell: mmm, burning waste. Some towns are very intentional about their dump. For example, we pulled off the road into the landfill for La Trinitaria, just south of Comitàn de Dominguez, Chiapas. As I flicked the kickstand down, a guard sauntered over from his hangout, I mean post, in the shade (an old minivan seat, a table, and a tarp strung between the trees). When I told him I work with trash in the States and would like to see his dump, he cheerfully said, "Well, come on over and take a look!" (in Spanish). So we moseyed over.

The dump was quite a dramatic scene. Billows of smoke wafted up from an abyss that created beautiful shadow-effects in the late afternoon sun. A man pulled up in his personal car and chucked bags of trash and yard debris off the cliff, as if to demonstrate how easy and carefree it is to get rid of crap in this town. The guard, Jorge, led us on a little trail to the side and proudly described the dump's features. It is 14 meters deep. It occasionally gets lit on fire, and pushed further back into the cave/hole by a machine. A pack of dogs lives and breeds down there, living off the garbage; you can sometimes hear them rattling around or yipping. People occasionally belay down into the rubbish to scavenge for metal. Sometimes, they die and have to be pulled back up (that's what we think he said). As Jorge spoke, the smoke cleared a bit and I was able to get a few clear shots through the haze: yup, piles of smoldering rubbish, sliding back into a deep cave. It was impressive, though I'm still mulling over in what sense it was impressive.

Jorge demonstrated a flexible interpretation for the concept of "rules". Here is my translation of what he said a few minutes into our tour: "You're not really allowed to take photos. I mean, you are allowed, 'cause we're now buddies [we had known each other for seven minutes at this point]. But if the Captain was here, you couldn't take pictures." Same thing when I asked about fees: "If it's a small load, no worries. If it's a bigger load of trash, like from a business, they're supposed to pay. ::pause:: But... if they bring me a soda, it's cool."

He knows his work well; Jorge has worked this position for 12 years. When I asked him how long the cave will remain the town's dump, he replied, "Siempre." (Always.) Just like Coca Cola.

The next day we crossed the border into Guatemala. (The landscape made us EARN that border crossing... after getting our passports stamped in Mexico, it was four kilometers of uphill chugging, past a dump (the vultures in the trees didn't start circling, so we figured we would make it) and finally into Guatemala, where they kindly stamped our passports (no bribes needed), checked our trailer of suitcases (yep, looks good), and waved us on our way.

Just like Mexico, Guatemala is beautiful. For a day-and-a-half, we pedaled (mostly) uphill through a river valley lined with chopped firewood, coffee beans spread to dry, women weaving red traditional cloth, construction (lots of sand and gravel collection) and little kids waving (I snapped this over-the-shoulder photo of kids pushing our trailer on the fly). On Thursday evening we rolled in to Huehuetenango.

Huehuetenango is not a polished town by any stretch of the imagination, but it has good pastries, yummy alote drinks in the morning market, and a really friendly bicycle shop, Mario's. The waste workers are male and use similar carts to the ones I saw in Mexico. We have spent two full days here: our clothes are clean and waterbottles full. Time to head west to Quezaltenango (Xela) and Lake Atitlan.

Beginning of a Tandem Bike Tour: Oaxaca to Tehuantepec

2009-03-21T09:59:00.000-07:00

It's hard to know how things are going to shake out a year down the road. Last year, when I was ironing out details with the Stevens Fellowship Committee to travel and look at trash, I thought that I should go to Latin America in order to both learn Spanish and juxtapose Europe's trash scene with the waste management strategies of developing countries. I also have a somewhat apocalyptic view of the world, and, with the skyrocketing price of fuel, I thought, "If everything gets messed up, I can just walk home from Mexico, Costa Rica, or anywhere in between."

Planes are still flying, and probably will be for a while, but if everything does go to hell in the next few months, I can now get home on a bike. Actually, we can get home on a bike (I love that pronoun).

It's a tandem. It is green. It is made by Bike Friday, a gem of a company in Eugene, Oregon, that specializes in folding bicycles. My partner, Gene and I started talking about the possibility of turning the Central America portion of travel into a bike trip on a beach walk in November 2008. By the time we took a test ride the following month, we were hooked.

We are not tied to any bus schedules or routes.
Landfills and recycling centers outside of town (not on normal transportation routes) suddenly become accessible.
We can stop anywhere.
We can go anywhere.
Our fitness level increases substantially with each pedal stroke.

So Gene came back from Antarctica and met up with me in Oaxaca, Mexico, with our bike. We went for a couple of test rides. We looked at other bike touring blogs. We talked to lots of people whose reactions ranged from, "You're crazy," to "The roads are steep, curvy, and treacherous," to "How cool!" One of our friends who works at a migrant shelter had some particularly dire accounts of certain roads, border crossings, and regions where people are "preyed" upon. Safety has factored largely in our discussions. There is no way we can blend: Gene is 6'5", I have blond hair, and we are on a bright green tandem. But we are friendly and cautious, and are giving it a whirl.

So far, everything has gone safely and smoothly. We pedaled 283 kilometers from Oaxaca to Tehuantepec over 3.5 days (a slow, but honest start). Our departure was classic -- we overestimated how much we could fit in the trailer and made a last-minute donation to the migrant shelter, as well as sent some stuff home with another friend going to Portland next week (thank you, friends!). We finally pulled out of Oaxaca, Mexico, on Sunday morning to lots of cheering and hollering and well-wishes from our housemates.

The scenery has been fantastic with rolling hills and lush river valleys springing with greens amidst an otherwise arid landscape. We have had some long climbs. We have had some killer sunset descents through very curvy valleys. We are acutely aware of the passing landscape: smells, temperature variations, and especially every incline (we come to a screeching crawl at every uphill, no matter how slight. We'll get there...). I have only done long-distance hiking in my past, and I must say, I quite like how much ground you can cover on a bike.

Everyone has been courteous and friendly. Drivers give us plenty of room when they pass us on the road, often with a wave, smile, or friendly toot. One gas truck driver even stopped to take our picture. (I got crafty and made bright yellow flags to make drivers extra-aware of our presence.) In towns, we get a positive welcome. There is something inherently happy about a tandem bicycle that puts a smile on peoples' faces. Locals come up to talk with us; we're both quite certain that the tandem serves as a gateway to further interactions, like helping this little town (photo: right) unload bricks for their community center.

Except for a couple of tweaks (thank goodness Gene is a bike mechanic), the bike has performed stunningly. Serendipitously we watched a James Bond movie and realized our bike, a "Q" tandem, is probably named after the character "Q" who makes all of the cool gadgets for 007. When we descended to the coast and felt our energy get zapped under a blanket of suffocating heat, we disassembled the bike ("we" here means "Gene") and packed it into the trailer (that cleverly becomes two suitcases).Then, we fit all of our camping gear in the suitcases with the bike (yeah 007), and caught a bus up the steep mountains. We felt slightly guilty as we passed a couple of other bike-touring cyclists on the Pan-America highway... but as we looked out at palm trees blowing in crosswinds, and dogs panting in 100-degree heat, we simply reclined our seats further and took a sip of water. We are now in San Cristobal de las Casas, Chiapas, our departure point for Guatemala and points further south.

We're still got work to do. Hydration is a full-time job. Also, I realized my Spanish needs more concentrated effort when I couldn't figure out if a sign was advertising fried coconut or cold coconut. And my "trash research" has been admittedly slow. But it's all coming along, sip by sip, pedal by pedal.

I didn't expect this element of adventure (not to mention wonderful partnership) in my travel plans a year ago, but I sure do like it.

Brown Suits, Orange Bins, Big Brooms

2009-03-13T18:30:00.001-07:00

This is the uniform and equipment of the waste workers in Oaxaca. They go around and service all of the public garbage cans. They also knock on the doors of people that do not want to bring their garbage to the garbage truck.

This is the book by an author, Alejandro Calvo Camacho, about the composition of waste in the municipalities surrounding Oaxaca. I didn't get to talk with him, but I sure like his book. I bet I'll like it even more when my Spanish improves.

My landlord started composting (and everyone joined in)

2009-03-13T18:11:00.001-07:00

So, remember my landlord? The one that brought me to the baptism party? I mentioned that I was very interested in trash, recycling, and composting. The next day, no joke, there was a bag next to the trash can for organic scraps. I couldn't believe how quick he went for it! One lady who has lived here for a year says she had never seen any food waste composting. Until now...

See? Look at the photos. The first shows the layout of the kitchen, with the water bottle, trash (blue plastic bucket), and the new bag for food scraps, perched below the water bottle. (Someone is pouring out coffee.)

Here's a closeup of the bag of food scraps. This household eats a lot of fruit and drinks a lot of coffee.

By the end of the first week of putting food scraps in the plastic bag, I started to get nervous... fruit flies were starting to arrive, and I couldn't tell if this was a very energetic start that would crash and burn without follow through.

But no. Agustin pulled through like a composting champion.

It turned out that he already new how to compost -- he had put his leaves and yard debris in a layered pile for years at his "rancho", a property out of town. We went out to the ranch together where he showed me his set-up.

A month later, the original plastic-bag-on-the-side has been upgraded to a big bucket under the stairs, labeled, "Basura Organica!" It has a loose fitting top that is easy to pick up and dump your food scraps inside. The best part is that Agustin gets to bring along his assorted tenants on the organic diversion ride. Even though the bucket is 20 feet from the shared kitchen, everyone (at least nine people at the moment) brings their mango peels, coffee grounds, watermelon rinds, and vegetable scraps over to the bucket. Agustin then transports the organic scraps from the house out to his property on the outskirts of town every weekend. (He makes the trip regardless of whether or not he is transporting organics.)

I don't know how much I really influenced this situation -- maybe he was planning to start composting last month -- but it sure feels good to be a part of it.

Drooling

2009-03-13T17:59:00.000-07:00

Someone once said to me, "We are like Pavlov's dogs here in Oaxaca, Mexico. Every bell and whistle develops a response."

He was right.

The gas truck rattles. The corn-on-the-cob man calls out on his nightly rounds, "Ehh-LOOO-tay." The knife-sharpener uses a distinct whistle to let you know his sharpening skills are near. Need water? Wait till you hear, "Aaaaaa-gguuuaaaa."

The same is true for trash.

The waste collection truck comes by in the morning. Sometimes early. Sometimes later. (Time isn't quite so precise at this latitude.) While hanging off the back of the truck, the worker in the back rings the bell while the driver pulls over to the side of the cobblestone road. Folks from the neighborhood come running down the street with their bags of waste. They throw their bags in the back of the truck. Some materials get separated: the driver loads cardboard up top; the helper gleans metal into a bag hanging off the side of the truck. The truck rattles on to its next stop.

Ring the bell. Bring the trash.

Some people aren't trained so quickly; I just heard a story of a family that chronically misses the bell. They have gotten in the habit of getting in their car with their trash and driving after the truck (they know its route). Seems like a curious [ahem: terrible] use of time and gas, but hey, whatever gets the job done.

Flagged

2009-03-08T17:34:00.000-07:00

Flags. They point stuff out.

Tops of mountains.
Nationalities.
Important email messages.

This week, flags point out 200 poops along a popular trail in Colorado, and a tandem bicycle, pictured right, that will carry my partner, Gene, and me through Central America.

Dog Doo, Dissected

2009-02-27T09:08:00.000-08:00

Just as I was cataloging my photos relating to dog poop (42 at last count), I received an email from my friend, Joanne. She is a retired professor of microbiology, and recently wrote an article that explains the composition of dog doo titled, "Poison Poop."

It's good shit. (The article, not the poo.) (Sorry, couldn't resist.)

The last time I wrote about dog doo, I was focused more on the re-use opportunity for small, plastic bags. I'm glad to know more; now I have even more ammo for when I chastise my mother for not picking up her dog's poop (sorry, Mom). Thanks, Joanne!

I'd Probably Eat Bottle Caps, Too

2009-02-25T10:35:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago I wrote a post titled, "You Want Some Ocean With That Plastic?"

Here's the followup: Captain Charles Moore, on TED ("ideas worth sharing"), talking about plastics, bottle caps, ocean currents, and our throwaway society. Just wait until you see the insides of a 4-month-old albatross. I'd probably eat colorful bottle caps, too, if I was a bird. The video is 7 minutes 20 seconds.

[photo: M. Weymouth]

Turning a Situation on its Head

2009-02-24T13:17:00.000-08:00

Here is a video that simply, cleverly, turns a 20-year-old's ideas about the future upside down. I won't say anymore; just check it out. The video, titled "Lost Generation" is 1 minute, 44 seconds long.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=42E2fAWM6rA

Enjoy.

Bag It: Competition in Colorado

2009-02-23T16:20:00.000-08:00

Sometimes they're just so darn handy. But overall, plastic bags are a beast.

They fly around in the wind (cleanup costs). They clog drains (flooding). They harm curious wildlife that think they're a tasty jelly snack (digestive troubles). They get caught in the rollers at recycling centers (safety and time issues). Aside from that scene in American Beauty, plastic bags are trouble.

In 2003, South Africa banned plastic bags. Get caught handing out bags less than 30 microns thick? Face a fine of 100,000 rand ($13,800 in 2003) or a 10-year jail sentence. Strict measures.

With a slightly warmer, cuddlier approach (think fleece), the Colorado Association of Ski Towns is having a reusable bag contest from March to September of 2009. Check it out, as well as an avalanche of other helpful information, on the High Country Conservation website. I think competition is a good motivation tactic. Keep us posted, Joanne.

[photo of reusable bags from a checkout line in Brussels, Belgium.]

Tool, Hair, and the Mango Flowers

2009-02-20T15:33:00.000-08:00

I am in Mexico City, staying with a friend from Wellesley (thanks Jennifer!). Today I walked through the park to go visit Mexico's National Museum of Anthropology. Just like everyone said, it was awesome: good displays, clear signage, and incredible artifacts. I only just scratched the surface of what it has to offer (I get museumhead pretty quick), but I still enjoyed it.

After the geology nerd in me finished geeking out on the obsidian displays, I moseyed through the evolution exhibit. There was this one section that displayed tools, and showed how humans' use of tools evolved over time: they got sharper, smaller, and more precise for the task at hand.

Flashback to the morning: I got a haircut last week. See? Here's me with hair.

Here's me with the haircut.

The hairdresser did a good job, but there have been a couple of stray pieces that have needed a little extra pruning (I guess that's what I get for getting a $3.20 haircut). So this morning, Jennifer, kind friend, said, "When we get back to the apartment, you need to cut that chunk of hair that's hanging down. I even have hair cutting scissors." When we get back to the house, what do I do? I go into the kitchen and use the kitchen scissors. Granted, they are FINE scissors. And I am not one to be choosy about such matters.

But why didn't I just use her hair-cutting scissors? There were absolutely no barriers to my using this tool. I speak her language. We were 20 feet away from each other. She is my friend. She offered the hair-cutting scissors, the tool for the task at hand. And yet I chose to use the kitchen scissors. A step up from the swiss-army-knife-and-fork combo I once used to cut my hair, but still.

Which brings me back to the museum. And the tools. And choices.

The placard above the tools says this:

"NEW LIFESTYLES
Societies of hunter-gatherers have always had a broad knowledge of the environment in which they live. Additionally, they have made use of this knowledge of the life cycle of plants and animals to insure their own survival."

The sentence gets me thinking... thoughts that I have mulled over many times before. Namely, why do we choose to do things a certain way? The sentence implies that it's our knowledge base that drives our behavior. I'm not convinced. I know a lot of things that I don't necessarily act on: I don't eat many vegetables, I rarely floss, and I eat mass-produced meat. I know that the planet is in peril, and that shifts in my behavior would directly and indirectly benefit my health and environment (not to mention gum care). There are no barriers to these behavior changes. Yet I am slow to change. Slower, it would seem, than a hunter-gatherer.

A few months ago, I had a bunch of conversations with my mother about her driving habits. She mentioned how she really admired how all three of her children were so into biking and public transportation. There's a bike store in Portland, OR that puts an ad in the paper that says, "Just one day. That's all we ask." [They ask for people to not drive one day a week.] I proposed this to my mother, who decided, yes, she could not drive one day a week. Perhaps on the weekend.

So a few weeks later, we're talking... and she says, "I was so close, Mere. On Sunday, I didn't drive all morning. But then I was late. So I drove. To yoga. A mile away."

It is this story that I mull over in my head over and over again.

I love garbage. I think it's neat to see what we choose to use, and at what point it becomes refuse. But I know, deep down, that it doesn't really matter. I would LOVE it if my choice to purchase a mango flower pounded onto a stick was "better" than sliced mango in a plastic cup, surrounded by a plastic bag, eaten with a plastic fork. Okay, maybe it is better. But it doesn't really matter.

The only things that really matter are how you eat (local? organic? low on the food chain?), how you get around (car? bike? foot? public transportation? private jet?), and the big choices of your home (is it small-ish? is it efficient?). The bonus fourth thing is whether or not you are politically active.*

I have a broad understanding of the environment in which I live (threatened fisheries, eroding soils, unequal access to clean water, and overpopulation come to mind). So does my mother. So do most of my friends. But I cannot confidently say that we use this knowledge to "insure [our] own survival".

As I left the museum, I thought, we are doomed.

*These four things were taken from Umbra, of Grist Magazine.

Addendum: Pecha Kucha

2009-02-19T07:22:00.001-08:00

Thanks for the comment, Jason. I had never heard of Pecha Kucha, which sounds just like Ignite (except for the slides transition after 20 seconds instead of 15 seconds). Thanks for the information.

In Honor of Ignite

2009-02-17T08:10:00.000-08:00

Have you heard of Ignite? It's this neat presentation format where folks get five minutes to share their topic, any topic, on stage. Each presenter gets 20 slides, and 15 seconds per slide. It's fast. It's fun. It's random. It's happening across the country.

Ignite Portland's next event is this Thursday, Feb 19. I got to present my favorite topic, trash, in the Summer of 2008. 'Twas fun.

Bottle Bins

2009-02-16T06:27:00.000-08:00

These are bottle bins I saw in the Chapultepec Park yesterday in Mexico City. There were hundreds of peoples strolling along the paths, drinking lots of bottled water and juice, and visiting the museums. They put their empty bottles in these bins.

PROS: Nice design with visual cue for user. Thus, minimal contamination. Good distribution throughout the park. Often paired with trash bins. Different shapes and sizes. Paired with signage about recycling. Appropriate use (in a park with lots of people with plastic bottles).

CONS: Use of metal (not sure how the capture rate of the plastic bottles pencils out with the use of re bar and wire).

Big Dump in Mexico City

2009-02-13T13:38:00.000-08:00

I'm headed to Mexico City for two weeks. I was there for just a couple of days a few weeks ago and was pleasantly surprised: it had a great subway system, interesting museums, and a really nice pedestrian feel. I thought, "I need to go back there." Now is my chance.

These pictures were taken at Mexico City Airport with Sonja, a globe-trotting friend. We got of the plane and immediately noticed trash cans with "orgánica" and "inorgánica" compartments. Mexico City composts? Almost. Notice how the "organic" section of the trash can is lined with a black plastic bag. Also, both compartments of the bin, like all of the bins I peeked into, are filled with a mix of materials (plastic, paper, organics, and wrappers). Translation: sorting isn't happening. Nice start... but lots of room to grow.

Actually, there's not much room to grow.

The dump is maxed out, and a threat. Mexico City's 20 million residents generate 12,500 tons of garbage every day. According to a recent story on the dump, the pressure from the trash mounds threatens to rupture a major drainage canal. If ruptured, the airport and surrounding neighborhoods will get flooded with "stinking effluent and grime". (Yes, I think two weeks will be just right. Then, get me out of there.)

It sounds like Mexico City is circling around solutions that involve organic diversion and greater recycling efforts. There is very little discussion of waste reduction.

Photo of the Day: Recycling Mural

2009-02-12T12:54:00.000-08:00

This photo comes from a friend in my Spanish class, Stan. He took the photo in Teotitlán del Valle, a rug-weaving village just East of Oaxaca. Good eye, Stan.

I'd now like to visit the town and see if there is a story behind the mural. One blight in Oaxaca is all of the graffiti. I wonder if painting a wall with an image (such as this recycling landscape) discourages graffiti more than, say, just a blank white wall.

Pelted With Candy

2009-02-09T06:13:00.000-08:00

This Sunday was one for the books: a baptism party in Mexico!

My landlord, Agustine, invited me to join him to his friend's brother's son's baptism party (or some connection like that). Erica, a teacher, also renting a room, was going as well. I was feeling sulky and dragged my heels, but eventually put on my one nice outfit and we all headed over to the next town. Here's how it played out.

We arrive at the party around 3pm. It is a big overhang with a long table down the middle. Chairs line the outer walls. Another room around the side is lined with more tables and chairs. A mariachi band plays. We make our way to the end of the table and sit down in some empty chairs. I'm glad I've come: this is a slice of Mexico I would not see on my own.

Two men are walking around with buckets of soda and beer. We get three Coronas. Another man is walking around with mezcal, the local moonshine. I am feeling a bit self-conscious being the only American, and want to keep a low profile. Taking a shot doesn't seem prudent, so I politely decline.

Lunch is served: bowls of soup, and plates of pork, beans, and salsa. A woman walks around offering people plastic bags so if they don't finish their meal, they can bring the food home. I think, "Doggie bags provided, pre-meal!" Then, I think about the strangeness of the phrase "doggie bag".

We eat. The buckets of beer and soda make their rounds. All of a sudden, everyone gets up. I hastily wipe my mouth and think, "What? We're leaving?" No no. We vacate our chairs at the table and go to sit in the outer ring of chairs. Seating #2 begins.

More than 200 people eat at that long table in at least three shifts. The cups and plates are Styrofoam. The utensil of choice is plastic spoons. Cleanup between the seatings is quick: shove and go.

Meals completed, tables are broken down and the mariachi band makes its exit. The band on the stage takes over. The music is so loud I can feel it vibrate in my stomach. The next few hours are a well-orchestrated event with periodic doses of beer, candy, tequila, cake, gifts, and dancing. At one point this huge puppet with a papermache face comes out and twirls in the crowd. I am dancing. Everyone is dancing. And then, all of a sudden, the puppet is hoisted on top of me! Already the tallest person in the room, I am now the enormous orange puppet, swinging my fake arms and shaking my rustling hair.

Forget keeping a low profile. After dancing in the puppet, I am a quasi-star of the party, part celebrity, part clown. The band gives me a free autographed cd. I hear my name every so often -- at one point, while sitting down (taking a break), the dj mentions my name and and something about dancing, and everyone turns towards me and laughs. It is friendly and fun.

Lots of gifts come flying through the air throughout the afternoon. Candy. Sombreros. Balloons. At one point all the ladies get handed a pineapple. Then we are led in a line dance with pineapples and sombreros. (I want to take a picture, but my hands are full with the said pineapple).

We bid our adieu (or, um, adios) around 8:30pm. Everyone waves. A man I had danced with a couple of times gallently kisses my hand. We climb into the VW bug and head home.

Squirmin' Herman

2009-02-04T18:57:00.000-08:00

I have gotten a few freelance questions about setting up worm bins lately. Today during my internet clickings, I stumbled across this ridiculously cute (and informative) website on worms. The star of the site is a worm called "Squirmin' Herman." Oh yeah.

One thing I learned is that worms have five hearts. Who knew?! Maybe worm bins will become the next big Valentine's Day gift....

Language Head Jenga

2009-02-03T17:53:00.000-08:00

When I went to Africa with the Peace Corps in 2002, my aunt, Sandy, said, "Honey, even if you don't speak the language, just smile. Everyone understands a smile." As a result, I spent the first few months in Cote d'Ivoire, and then Madagascar, with a big, goofy smile on my face.

I have bypassed the status of village idiot this time. I am currently in Oaxaca, Mexico, a pleasant town famed for its culture, laid back atmosphere, and Spanish schools. I am smiling in my language class, but not because I feel clueless. Indeed, my one year of high school Spanish is coming back (thanks, Ms. Kelleher).

My head feels like a big jenga puzzle -- you know, the game with wooden pieces stacked together? My brain bits get re-stacked daily, with French and Malagasy settling lower and lower in my cerebral hierarchy.

My favorite new word, so far, is alegría, which means happiness. (It is also a tasty and nutritious rice-krispy-like-treat sold by the street vendors. Mmmm.)

[photo: giftmonger.com]

You want some ocean with that plastic?

2009-01-30T16:21:00.000-08:00

The word "ocean" sounds closer and closer to "oooohhh.... sheeaat".

A friend just sent me a link to this article from Discover Magazine on the big plastic blob in the Pacific. It is called the East Pacific Garbage Patch. Bits of debris -- mostly plastic -- get swirled together from the ocean currents to create a concentrated plastic soup. It's big: possibly one and a half times the size of the United States and 100 feet deep. Like a monster, it changes shape and size depending on the season and ocean currents.

Remember that scene from The Graduate, where the guy says, "Plastics! They're the future!" So right, Mrs. Robinson. There are lots of ideas on how to "fix" this problem -- scoop it up! burn it! smoosh it together into an island! ignore it! But that's just dealing with the monster. We have to deal with the source of the monster: us.

Fishing for answers.

[photo = Madagascar, 2004]

Reflections on La Ventana

2009-01-28T21:15:00.000-08:00

I arrived in La Ventana not quite sure what to expect. Add (salt) water and poof: instant community. It often felt like Gilligan's Island, complete with the professor, MaryAnn, and the Howells. The La Ventana campground was like a little population experiment: What happens when you throw a ton of gringos together with three shared bathrooms? How do they create their spaces? What behavior patterns develop? And, of course, what waste do they generate? Here are some things I will remember from my time in La Ventana:

-People in tents are called "grounders".
-Sweeping. Always sweeping. Keep those blue tarps clear of each and every sand particle.
-The hooting of the owl at night. (Don't ask about the cat.)
-The stars.
-The moon phases.
-Sitting up at Pablo's after breakfast, waiting to see a wind line coming across the sea.
-Guitar.
-Swimming in the prettiest pool ever (the ocean with fish, coral and urchins).
-Starting to say "eh" because of all the Canadians.
-Sunrises, with mirage landscapes.
-Getting completely humbled by the process of learning to kiteboard. Thank goodness for new friends (and a guardian angel or two) that would pick me up, dust me off, and encourage me to go try again.
-Burning Bush.
-The pelicans, diving down hard and fast.

There were three hiccups. 1) My cough from Christmas traveled down to my chest. I eventually had to take a round of antibiotics to knock the bug out of my system (ugh). 2) I lost my camera after a stupid sequence of events that had me kicking myself for many days (thank you, Sonja, for giving me your pictures). 3) Packing up, I could not find my clever green spoon. It's not a big deal, but I don't like to lose things. As they said in the Matrix, there is no spoon.

A big THANK YOU to everyone who made up my La Ventana community. I hope to see you all again someday.

Meet Enrique

2009-01-20T10:19:00.000-08:00

Meet Enrique, the landscaper/garbageman at La Ventana Campground in La Ventana, Baja, Mexico.

Enrique arrives every day around 8:30am. He drives the community's white F150 pickup truck slowly, stopping and turning off the engine at each trash can. He throws bags of trash in the back of his truck. If there is unconsolidated trash, he dumps out the loose items -- cigarette butts, orange peels, wrappers, etc -- and then picks them up with a rake and homemade dustbin.

If a family has left its campsite, Enrique fastidiously cleans up the area, raking up leaves, sticks, and stray rocks. All materials get dumped into the back of the truck.

Not all trash is equal: Enrique places aluminum cans towards the front of the truckbed (aluminum is currently worth 6 pesos per kilo; 8 pesos per kilo if he drives into La Paz).

Around 12:30pm, Enrique drives his load up to the dump. He backs the truck into the center of the trash pile. The cows make room for him. He slings all of the bags out of the truck. Someone has thrown out an old kite. After he has pulled out most of the bags, he tugs on his white tarp tarp and dumps the contents on top of the heap. Enrique has a pair of gloves, but only uses them when he is working with prickly plants.

Flies buzz. Cows munch. Carcasses rot. Plastic melts. One cow has a bag of trash stuck on his horn. It looks like an earring.

After sweeping out the back of his truck and replacing the tarp, Enrique heads home. He is one of the older members of the hijo, the 118 members of the community that are in charge of this land.

Enrique has been doing this job for about a year. Before this, he was a fisherman. He says that in the winter (October-April), the campground is mostly filled with gringos who put their garbage in bags. In the summer (May-September), the campground mostly has Mexican campers. The Mexican clients party hard and throw their garbage everywhere.

Enrique gets paid out of the campground fees, which are US $8 per night, per campsite.

Well-Written (About) Rubbish

2009-01-14T14:29:00.000-08:00

I just read a fantastic essay on rubbish by the novelist, Margaret Drabble. At age 69, I doubt Ms. Drabble is doing gymnastics, but she sure does back flips with the English language. Here are some niblits from her essay on rubbish, written around the holidays, as well as some photos from London.

Drabble writes:

There are days when I feel my only achievement has been a successful trip to the recycling centre. It's an age thing. "The waste remains, the waste remains and kills," as William Empson insisted in perhaps his best known villanelle, Missing Dates. We need to get it out of the system. At the end of the year, it weighs more heavily upon us. Christmas means rubbish, piles of rubbish. Cardboard, paper, polystyrene, bubble wrap, plastic, the withering leaves of sprouts and the scraggy bones of poultry and the scrapings of grease and the indestructible shreds of tinsel - they disgust us, they depress us. The memory of six weeks without refuse collection at the end of 1973 haunts my generation, and so does the three-day week that followed. These events brought down a government. We fear a recurrence of disaster. We fear the clogging of the arteries, the overflowing tip, the choking planet, the slow march of death.

A bit grim, but she makes it work.

I can relate to her satisfaction in visiting a recycling center. I didn't own up to it in my prior post, but one of my highlights of the Christmas holidays was digging a hole in the backyard of our rented house so my family could compost. I was in a beautiful setting surrounded by loved ones, and my favorite part was digging a hole in the sandy earth? Sometimes I wonder about myself.

To that end, here is another quote from Ms. Drabble:

My finest acquisition in 2008 was a green fox-proof beehive-shaped Swedish compost bin. I love it inordinately, which is, I know, a little sad.

I think I need to meet this lady. Maybe she is a glimpse of my future self. Maybe she is a glimpse of my current self (with better vocabulary).

Here is the link to the entire essay, titled, "There's no such place as away."

[photos: recycling centre in London; Meredith holding up domino phone booths; Seth doing a backhanded glass recycling maneuvre]

Where in the World

2009-01-12T08:44:00.000-08:00

What's a girl to do with more than 2,000 pictures of trash cans? I am figuring that out.

Do I sort them by aesthetic appeal? Inherently difficult due to the unattractive nature of trash cans (sometimes I wish I was researching sunsets).
Do I cross-reference them by location: public, private, inside, outside?

What about close-ups of good signage?
What about close-ups of bad signage?

Do people care that the recycling bins in a little town in southern France had brushes in the openings?
How do I keep my album of around-the-world trash photos lean yet complete?

These are the questions I am asking myself as I sort though my photos. Linking the pictures to a location on googlemaps seems like a good first step. Here's my first try at geo-locating a pretty picture of a trash can in Paris.

Sunrise, Diaper-Eating Cow, and La Ventana Landfill

2009-01-10T13:32:00.001-08:00

Diapers: It's Why the Meat is So Tender

2009-01-06T10:37:00.000-08:00

Here I am camped out in a beautiful spot called La Ventana, on the Baja peninsula of Mexico. Between learning Spanish and kiteboarding, I make my rounds up into the arroyo (an intermittent riverbed that serves as the local trash drop-off) and the more formalized dump (a smoldering pit with goat carcasses, glass bottles, rusty cans, and the occasional shredded windsurf sail).

For a variety of reasons, I have been considering adopting a vegetarian lifestyle. Yesterday, I was eating an amazing meal of rice, beans, and beef, and exclaimed, "This is delicious! The meat is so tender." A friend replied, "It's the diapers."

Sure enough, going up into the dump this morning I came across some cows chewing on diapers and cardboard.

[The connection isn't so strong at the moment; I'll try and upload a picture or two later today.]

Live Debris: Red Semilla Roja

2009-01-04T20:20:00.000-08:00

During my brief stopover in Portland in December 2008, I met up with a powerhouse lady, Taylor Stevenson, who has her fingers in all sorts of pots that include art, trash, and people. Like myself, she travels and looks at trash. Her work is presented at the website called Red Semilla Roja.

One of Red Semilla Roja's projects is called, "Live Debris: Festival of Reuse Art & Design." It is a rotating show that will take place in Beirut, Rio de Janeiro, and Portland, OR. Here is what she says on her site about Live Debris:

Live Debris aims to share artistic innovation in reuse and recycling from around the world and to create spaces and situations in which artists and designers can collaborate to develop new ideas. The project's primary goal is to dissolve universal prejudices against garbage so that people begin to see it as a resource rather than a burden. If people are able to respect trash, they may also come to respect those people around the world who work and live with our trash.

Go Taylor. I would also add that as people see garbage portrayed in innovative, creative ways, perhaps they would be more open to more creative solutions.

Mexico

2008-12-27T10:20:00.000-08:00

We just made it out of Portland before 15 inches of snow and freezing rain shut the city down. Since then, it's been a week of family fun in Todos Santos, Mexico.

Todos Santos is a weird little oasis on the Baja peninsula. English is spoken. You can use US dollars in the stores. In the suburbs where we rented a house, the licence plates are from California, Oregon, Idaho, and Washington. Sidewalks end in the middle of the street. As far as I can tell it is an adult playground for sun-and-surf seekers.

My nieces and nephew loved catching bugs and making them bug nests. My mother gave the littlest addition, Arden, 4 months, baths in the sink. My sisters and brothers-in-law were on top of all the important things to the little ones: sunblock, food, and play. Gene met the family and everyone really liked him.

Now they have all packed up and gone. Gene has taken his tools and headed south to Antarctica. It's time for me to resume my peripatetic lifestyle and hit the dumpsters. Headed east.

300 Cups of Tea

2008-12-19T09:22:00.000-08:00

December is going to be a slow blog month for me.

After wrapping up our time in Europe with an honest 4-bus, 3-train, 2-subway, 2-walk, 15-hour transportation day, Gene and I headed back to Portland, OR to regroup for a week. It has been really nice to catch up with friends and bike around town. Who knew Portland could be so snowy! Five days of snow in six days! Exclamation mark, exclamation mark.

My throat, however, decided to invite some of its own friends over. Whatever is living back there is not a nice house guest -- it scratches, itches, and has made it ridiculously painful to swallow for the last five days. Having gone through gallons of Throat Coat tea, honey, and frozen smoothies, I am going to the naturopath in a few moments. Hopefully she will brew up a concoction that will knock it out of there. At the very least, I'll be on a plane south to Mexico in 24 hours. (Yes, I am that person that makes everyone on the airplane sick. Gagh. Maybe I'll wear a gas mask like the one I saw at the Pollutec Conference, pictured right).

Happy Holly Ho Ho Ho.

Crushed

2008-12-08T13:36:00.000-08:00

The New York Times ran an article today about how prices for recyclables have plummeted in the last few months. Tin, for example, is selling for about $5 per ton compared to $327 earlier in the year. Recycling contractors are stockpiling the goods, waiting for the prices to rise.

This news is crushing. (heh. heh?)

As with this whole economic downturn, the prices will bounce. In the meantime, perhaps the waste management spotlight will shift more towards waste reduction instead of increased recycling.

Jina and Lucas: Reporting from Guatamala

2008-12-05T02:00:00.000-08:00

My friends, Jina and Lucas, are traveling through Central America for their honeymoon. Since we will be in Central America in a few months, I asked them to keep an eye out for trash leads. In the middle of exploring jungles, reviving Spanish skills, making soup, and battling vomit conditions on harrowing bus rides, Jina wrote me the following email:

Meredith- some quick notes on CA trash. We´re traveling right now with a woman named Liza who did a Spanish school in Xela (Quetzaltenango). She says many of the families there (particularly the Pacaja neighborhood) burn their trash to cook their food. Sounds like an inventive, if horribly unhealthy way of dealing with trash and lack of cooking fuel. Also-- at lake atitilan, there is a town called San Marcos you take a boat to (the hippie place we wrote about in the blog). The main wall coming into town is build from plastic bottles filled with trash, then chicken wire and plaster. Another hostel/restaurant makes cool stained glass windows out of glass bottles. Not sure if this is useful, but you should at least know I´ve got my eyes and ears open for trash spectacules, We just got in to El Salvador last night...

Jina served in Peace Corps Madagascar a few years before me and, among other things, is a rockstar wildlife biologist in Portland, OR (where we connected). Her husband, Lucas, is a rockstar of the pirate variety, and does things with computers. If you want to read a blog that has lovely descriptions, pretty pictures, and is written from the heart (instead of, say, the gutter), check out their "honeyluna" site out here.

I am curious to see the chicken-wire-plastic-bottle-plaster wall. And the stained glass windows. The cooking-over-trash... not so much... but kind of. So yes, it is useful to hear about the things you are seeing. Thanks, Jina!

Paris.

2008-12-02T13:32:00.000-08:00

Oh la la.

Sure, it is home to the Eiffel Tower, amazing museums, chocolate crepe stands on every corner, and little dogs wearing sweaters. But you know the best part of Paris: the trash cans.

The mayor seems to have his political dial tuned to the environmental station. In addition to having a sweet bike system with 20,000 bikes at 1,450 stations throughout the city [with the first 30 minutes free (gratuit!)], Paris currently has an aggressive recycling campaign.

I quite liked the design of these bins in the Luxembourg Gardens. The green is for garbage; the yellow is for recycling (paper, metal, and plastic). Notice the lid on top of the yellow recycling bin: it both prevents the casual toss and also has pictures and arrows. You want to put that in here? You better think twice, monsieur.

In addition, people can see the contents of the bags through the translucent plastic bag. Pictures, arrows, and clear bags. Not rocket science, but effective given the small amount of contamination we saw in 20 containers, all paired with trash cans.

The garbage trucks currently have an ad campaign that reinforces the system that Yellow = Recycling. Here is a picture of one of the trucks.

Here is close-up of the sign on the truck. In the sign, the little paper box is saying, "In the yellow bin, thanks." Here is the website for the garbage in's and out's in Paris.

Ah bon.

Birthday (30)

2008-11-27T01:34:00.001-08:00

I don't feel a day over 30.
I guess that's because yesterday was my 30th birthday.

It was a great day. I woke up to a virtual fiesta -- Ashley and Marijke had decorated the living room in the early morning with flags, streamers, and a "Happy Birthday" sign. I sat surrounded by color eating yummy meusli and yogurt. Mmmmm... meusli.

Then, Gene and I biked to the beach. Holland is set up for bike touring -- every single road has a bike path option. Little flags with destination and kilometer markings point the way. The bike paths even have little bike traffic signals. Mmmmm... biking.

At the beach, Gene and I completed one of my goals of this fellowship: researching these big blue bottle-like trash cans. They are made by WellDesign, and were clustered together near the entrance of the beach (during the summer they are spread out down the beach). While I don't usually like large plastic items, these funky bottles seem like a great solution to a windy, sandy, potentially flooded environment. We mused if they were made of recycled plastic. Mmmmm... funky-yet-appropriate trash can technology.

We biked back to Haarlem in a nice light drizzle and made a yummy dinner. I got lots of well-wishes on Facebook and over email, which was super sweet. Thanks, everyone, for a great birthday!

Now, on to bird-day.

European Waste Reduction Week

2008-11-25T01:47:00.000-08:00

I woke up this morning and realized that European Waste Reduction Week has already begun. Oh goody! Let's reduce our waste and increase our awareness...for a week! Riiiighhht.

Seems kind of silly. I mean, does anyone really make fundamental changes over one week? How much does "raising awareness" really influence behavior? Kind of like my doubts about "environmental education", I always come back to the adage, "you have to start somewhere".

Here are the participating organizations:

ADEME (Agence de l'Environnement et de la Maitrise de l'Energie) (France);
ACR+ ((the Association of Cities and Regions for Recycling and Sustainable Resource Management)(Belgium);
IBGE (Bruxelles Environment)(Belgium);
ARC (Cgencia de Residus de Catalunya)(Spain); and
LIPOR (the intermunicipal waste management authority of the Grand Porto metrolitan area)(Portugal)

Details for the whole kit and kaboodle are here.

Waste "Hi, Err, Arc, Eeeee"

2008-11-23T12:58:00.000-08:00

The second day of the Organic Diversion in Urban Environments conference went well. At least I knew where to sit.

INSERT STORY: The first day I walked to the back of the room and tried to enter the clear-glass box labeled "English". Two stunned ladies turned around with a look that said, "Whaaat." Oh. Right. I realized with a Homer-Simpson-"d'oh!"-moment that the box is for the people that translate all of the other languages into English. Ooops. On Day #2 I felt like a seasoned pro as I sat down in the conference room and put on my nifty headphones (and gave a little wave to the translators).

Here is a photo of the conference room, with Lisa Brown of Impact Environmental (Australia) and Tom Quested of WRAP (England). You can see the translation window boxes in the background. Lisa is on a three-month fellowship to learn about organic diversion and bring her findings back to Australia. I mentioned Tom's work in my previous post.
So. The big topic of discussion was the Waste Framework Directive, which was adopted by the European Council on October 20, 2008. This directive goes into effect 20 days after it has been published in the Official Journal of the European Union. The member states will then have 14 months to comply. Tick tick.
Here are two bits of the Waste Directive that were discussed.

1) The establishment of a waste hierarchy, as follows:

WASTE PREVENTION (preferred option);
RE-USE;
RECYCLING;
RECOVERY (including energy recovery);
SAFE DISPOSAL (as a last resort); and

2) the establishment of recycling targets: by 2020, Member States must recycle 50% of their household and similar waste and 70% of their construction and demolition waste.

Targets were set for recycling... but not for waste prevention. It's not surprising -- it seems much easier to deal with the issue at the back end (re-use, recycling, recovery, or disposal) than to try to change behavior at the front end (waste prevention).

I'd like to talk a little bit more about my perceptions of behavior change... but maybe in another post. Till then,

Cheers, from a snowy Belgium,
Meredith

Waste Lines and Waist Lines

2008-11-20T15:21:00.000-08:00

I am in Brussels, Belgium, at a conference titled "Organic Waste in Urban Environments -- New European Challenges". It is pretty sweet, and I'm not talking about the chocolate.

Day Number One included a blend of speakers from Germany, France, Belgium, and England. I cannot do justice to their presentations, but the general messages seem to be A) food waste is a very important issue, and B) it is WAY more beneficial to prevent food wastage on the front end (by not buying or preparing too much food) than to deal with it on the back end (through disposal or composting). No big surprises.

One presentation by Tom Quested of WRAP (U.K.) talked about their in-depth study that measured how the average person throws away 28% of their consumable food. Now I have put on tyvek suits and sorted my share of garbage, but these sorts went above and beyond the call of duty: they precisely documented every donut, dairy carton, sell-by date, and grain of rice that got thrown in the rubbish bin. This information translated into front-page headlines a neat campaign called "Love Food, Hate Waste". One of the tips that they promote (and that cropped up in at least three other presentations) was the simple act of making a shopping list before heading to the grocery store.

Make those lists, and check the fridge twice.

One presentation by Nathalie Cliquot of the European Environmental Bureau talked about ways to reduce waste. Again, no big surprises that it's a good idea to A) eat less dairy & meat; B) eat less (eat as many calories as you need); C) eat seasonal, robust, local, field-grown vegetables that don't need heating or lighting; and D) don't waste food. She also pointed out how those things, while good for the environment, are also good for our health.

Duly noted.

Bins off Mainau (and the Flying Banana)

2008-11-19T23:31:00.000-08:00

My status as a "diligent blogger" has been temporarily revoked. I will redeem myself in the next couple of weeks like a good 5 cent deposit bottle.

The first two weeks of November, Gene and I went around the south of Germany... to Freiburg, Munich, the Lake Constance region (Bodensee), Heitersheim, and Titisee. More pictures are on the way. While German trains are lovely and punctual, our favorite days were when we rented bicycles. One of those days was around Konstanz.

This post is really a brief nod to the cute bins off Mainau Island, just a few kilometers north of the Swiss border. I particularly liked the sign for organic waste: a flying banana peel! (Apple cores are usually the bio-waste symbol of choice.)

These bins only work for a relatively small population. I liked the subtle color scheme, and how they put symbols both in front of the bins, but also on top (next to the point of disposal).

The floating diaper on the far right, to signal "restmull", seems to get a lot of butts (of the cigarette variety).

On to more organic treasures...

Do Penguins Recycle?

2008-11-10T04:32:00.000-08:00

My travels have taken on a new dimension with the arrival of my partner, Gene. My rolly luggage has been tested on wooded trails. Timber-framed buildings get photographed as much as well-signed dumpsters. No bakery item goes unturned. It is wonderful.

Gene heads to Antarctica in January 2009 to work on a neat restoration project. Coincidentally, a friend sent me a link to a video on waste management in Antarctica. Apparently the scientists and explorers used to put their waste on icebergs and watch it float out to sea. Kind of like the waste barges I remember from my childhood in New Jersey (but cooler (heh) cause the story involves ice bergs, and perhaps the occasional penguin). Anyway, check out the video here.

Composting: Garbage into Gold, and Energy

2008-11-05T15:52:00.001-08:00

I have always had a healthy appreciation for the composting process.

My organic detritus world got a little juicier in October 2008 when I toured BEKON's dry fermentation plant outside of Munich, Germany. To put it very simply, they take organic matter, put it in a digester (an air-tight container), and let the biomass ferment. The resulting biogas generates electricity. After the fermentation process in the digestors, the digested matter undergoes further composting. Here are the pictures.

Compost... and energy. Good stuff. BEKON also claims that their system is a lot more efficient than anaerobic digestion because, besides the added percolate, it is a dry process.

Green Point System

2008-11-01T09:30:00.001-07:00

When I first visited Germany, I saw a trash can labeled "Packaging." It was quite confusing -- it seems that everything is packaging of some sort, isn't it? I now know "Packaging" refers to any product with the "Green Dot" or "Green Point" on it.

The way I understand it, all manufacturers pay a fee based on their product's type and amount of packaging. For example, the producer of the plastic cheese container, pictured below (with the greenpoint stamp at the bottom of the label) would pay a smaller fee than a product with more packaging materials. The money from these fees goes to the processors that sort and recycle these materials.

This system stems from the German Packaging Ordinance of 1991, which shifted the responsibility for handling waste from the consumer to the producer.

There is more information on this at the Duales System Deutschland GmbH website. Alternatively, I found a nice summary of recycling options in Germany at this website.

Frankfurt

2008-10-26T11:47:00.000-07:00

I spent the last two weeks in Frankfurt. I had no idea I would have such a dynamic experience.

During my two-week internship at Frankfurt International Airport (Fraport), I got to look in lots of dumpsters. The waste folks were extremely gracious to me and even lined up tours at a local incinerator, hazardous waste facility, and recycling sorting facility. It was excellent.

On the weekends, Patrick and I benefited from amazing weather. The photos in this slideshow are from our time in Frankfurt, Wiesbaden, Koln (Cologne), and Bonn. Most of the photos were taken by Patrick (who, by the way, went above and beyond the call of duty providing not only a room, but a full fridge, soap, music, a bike, and lots of laughs. Thank you, Patrick).

Boston Begins

2008-10-22T11:23:00.000-07:00

My favorite online environmental news source, Grist, tipped me off a moment ago on a story about a proposed ordinance that would force Boston haulers to offer recycling services to their customers.

My first reaction is, "Seriously? They don't offer recycling yet? Even with the current value of paper and metals? Sheesh. That's like throwing money away."

My next reactions include hints of dialog used during my MPA (Master of Public Administration) studies. I wouldn't go as far as to say that I have fully developed my shrewd analytical skillz... but I know I didn't think this way two years ago. So thanks, PSU. Here are some reactions:

REACTION 2: "Ohh...Of course. They need to remove the barriers to participation before they force businesses to recycle. This is just the first step -- offering recycling in the first place. D'uh."

REACTION 3: "Hmmm...I wonder how the city will further align its policies with the behavior it wishes to promote. That is, if this ordinance passes, will Boston then require businesses to recycle? If so, what will be the penalty for not participating? How will they monitor it?"

REACTION 4: "I wonder what the landfill tipping fees are in the Boston metro region."

REACTION 5: "Since Boston is such a hip, student town, I wonder if any campuses would be interested in following the CES model from Portland State University, where students offer technical assistance to businesses interested in waste reduction and recycling."

REACTION 6: "I wonder what fee structure will be adopted."

REACTION 7: "I need to go to bed."

PS -- In the interest of full disclosure, I am related to Grist through my super duper talented brother-in-law. Every day, when I get the Grist List, I think, "Oh goody, Chip's little newsletter!" Heh. They have about a zillion subscribers. Love it.

Focusing in Frankfurt

2008-10-20T21:47:00.001-07:00

It was a perfect Fall weekend with crisp, clear weather. My host, Patrick, showed me all around Frankfurt and a bit of the Rhine Valley. This is one of my favorite shots, with the typical Frankfurt trash cans in focus in the background.

Hard Discount Stores - A Visit to Aldi

2008-10-19T11:59:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I read an article about "hard discount" stores (Wall Street Journal; September 30, 2008; Passariello). The article talked about how these stores offer 900-1600 products, compared to large supermarkets that usually offer 20,000 products. By limiting the selection these deep discount stores save costs, which they pass onto the consumer. (Sounds like Walmart, but isn't.)

This weekend I got to experience one of the stores mentioned in the article -- Aldi -- first hand. It was like a regular store, but with no frills.

Any good conversation about waste management begins with a nod towards the ever-taboo topic (but gaining popularity) of consumption. This "hard discount" retail model -- offering a limited selection and saving on costs associated with "buying, packaging, transporting, and displaying" goods -- has some interesting implications. Not quite sure what those implications are just yet; my noodle is still cooking the subject. Please feel free to share your thoughts.

The "Hunde-WC"

2008-10-16T13:06:00.000-07:00

Okay. So I went to Wellesley College, a fancy schmancy school outside of Boston (indeed, the one that has sponsored this trash & travel voyage). I always got a kick out of the fact that its initials -- WC -- also stand for "water closet" (or toilet) in Europe.

The other day, on a run outside of Frankfurt, I came across the ultimate water closet: the "Hound WC." Yup, dog poo. A topic I have covered before. I was particularly intrigued by the 3-step process depicted in diagrams.

Thought you might like these pictures, and this article (in German) that estimated that 400,000 piles of dog poo are generated each day by the pooches in Berlin. That equates to 50,000 tons of dog-doo per year, or 146 million little landmines.

Oh I love this job.

41 Miles to the Gallon

2008-10-15T06:14:00.000-07:00

A little bit of email 'humor'...

If you had purchased $1,000 shares of Delta Airlines one year ago, you would have $49.00 today. If you had purchased $1,000 shares in AIG one year ago, you would have $33.00 today. If you had purchased $1,000 shares in Lehman Brothers one year ago, you would have $0.00 today.

But, if you had purchased $1,000 worth of beer one year ago, drank all the beer, then turned in the aluminum cans for recycling, you would have $214.00. Based on the above, the best current investment plan is to drink heavily and recycle. It is called the 401-Keg.

A recent study found that the average American walks about 900 miles a year. Another study found that Americans drink, on average, 22 gallons of alcohol a year. That means that, on average, Americans get about 41 miles to the gallon.

Coburg, Germany

2008-10-11T12:48:00.000-07:00

I had originally intended my week in Coburg, Germany, to be down-time... to do laundry (my first real load in 4 weeks of traveling)... to catch up on emails... and to just have a little home-away-from-home for a few days. I did all of that, but also managed some exploring.

Just north of Coburg is a waste-to-energy plant called Mullhelzkraftwerk. On a very rainy morning, I biked over to check it out. I didn't get past the front gate (understandably), but they did give me a very descriptive brochure with a line-drawing detailing all steps of burning trash. Now my German vocabulary is expanding from my already questionable repertoire of "front handspring" and "mud fight" to include "Verdampfer" and "Kalkmilch-Vorratsbehalter" (translation anyone?).

As I was biking away from the incineration plant, I spotted some stacked pallets, cubed paper, and piles of plastic: a materials recovery facility! It was called Schmidt & Wagner. They handle paper, plastic, metals, and miscellaneous materials in the region.

Ten kilometers east (by this point I was very muddy, wet, and cold), I knocked on the door of another materials recovery facility in Blumenrod. In between trucks toting trash, I secured a glossy brochure of this enterprise headed up by Veolia, an international waste management service.

Really, though, the best part of my time in Coburg (professionally) was the local recycling depot, which has a place for every thing and a thing for every place. The men working there were thrilled to be photographed. I particularly liked the metal frame holders for Styrofoam. Pictures of the recycling depot and the rest of my time in Coburg (including a 50-km bike trip to Bamberg) are here .

Ruth, the mother of my friend, Judith, lives in Coburg and hosted me while I was there. She walks in the woods for at least an hour every day. She bikes all around town. She runs a ballet studio. She smokes cigarettes on her balcony and drinks coffee at all hours. She is just the kind of person with whom you want to sit down at the kitchen table with figure out the meaning of life... all while eating yummy bread and cheese. Thank you, Ruth, for everything. (Thank you, Wenzel, for lending me your bike.)

Czeching out Prague

2008-10-11T04:37:00.000-07:00

I spent two days in Prague with my parents. They gave me my doses of "cul-chah" for the year with live music (opera & chamber music), descriptions of architecture (Romanesque, Gothic and Baroque), and a new appreciation for Art Nouveau (via Mucha). I, in turn, gave them a new appreciation for trash cans.

Here are some pictures from Prague.

Geriatric Cruise in Croatia

2008-10-05T02:09:00.000-07:00

With an unexpected deviation from my original Trash Tour itinerary, in late September 2008, I went sailing off the Dalmatian Coast of Croatia with my parents and their friends.
While my parents don't always point in the same direction (see photo below), they have managed to stay in the same boat for 40 years. It was really nice to spend this time with them (and their longtime friends Betsy & Bruno, Peggy & Michael, Barbara & Chip, Alice & Peter, and Stan). They joked that it was a geriatric cruise... but I hope I am half as adventuresome when I am 65 years old. Yes, I weathered a few discussions about hip replacements, scars, and grandchildren. But they all graciously let me take pictures of trash cans and get more excited about the local dump than Dioclecian's Palace. So we sailed...

Croatia -- nestled on the Adriatic next to Bosnia & Herzegovina, Hungary, Serbia, Montenegro, Slovenia, and Italy -- has some sweet sailing.Here is the rough map I sketched in my journal of our route: Split --> Brac --> Hvar --> Korcula --> Komiza --> Stari Grad --> Split.

When there was wind, we sailed.
When there wasn't wind, we motored.

There was always something to look at by day...
...and by night.

It was neat to go ashore and see towns that have been around for thousands of years. My favorite part was all of the church towers that tolled on the hour.

I am ashamed to admit that we did very little recycling on our boat. I was terrible and quickly acquiesced to an excuse mindset that included thoughts such as, "There's not enough space," and, "Even if we do separate our wine bottles and paper, there aren't any recycling options at the marinas anyways." Eeek. I'll do better next time.

Here is Peter with 7 people's garbage from 24 hours.

Here are dumpsters typical of Croatia. Overall, it was a very tidy country (from what I saw).