Pick It Up
Without realizing it, it's all around us. I remember it was ubiquitous in every street in Boston. Here, even with the European fame of its supposed non-existence, you can find it easily in the most unsuspecting places. We're surrounded by trash.
It is said that even on Mount Everest, one of the last pristine places on Earth, there is trash that climbers have left behind. If they could carry up their belongings, why couldn't they carry them back down? That being the case, it shouldn't be strange to see overgrown ditches stuffed with papers and plastics and cans along our roads. It has become commonplace for us when trying to find out of the way spots for our picnics when we drive around Galicia, to find a beautiful little corner and see it filled with all sorts of junk from previous travellers. Tissues, plastic wrappers, plastic bottles, bags, smashed cans, cans bleached from the sun, everything that was too much of a burden to someone to pick up and take back home to put in the trash bin.
The local festival in Rianxo, in honor of the Virgin of Guadalupe, was last week. Apart from the traditional bands, there was also a rock concert one day, and another day there were a couple of DJ's. Young people congregated at those spots in droves, including the main square where the bands were. Somehow, young people can't seem to be able to listen to music without drinking. (Well, neither could we when we were young, now that I think about it.) And it's always cheaper if you buy the bottles at the supermarket and mix the drinks yourself. So, young people appear during the night lugging plastic sacks of bottles and plastic glasses. All that generates trash. All that trash generates headaches when the streetcleaners go out to do their jobs in the mornings. There simply aren't enough streetcleaners on the town payroll to clean up everything in one morning.
This year, the organization that sets up all the activities for the youth set up a Facebook challenge called Eu Recollo a Miña Merda (I pick up my own shit), and asked people to send them a photo of them throwing out the trash they generated. Small prizes were offered for the best photos. It worked, but it didn't seem to reach enough people. In the wee, wee morning hours after the DJ's closed up shop, the area where they had been partying resembled a landfill. The last day of the festival, the music went on until mid morning. When the band packed up their truck-stage, and the cleaning crew came in, a few were still sleeping it off in the portals and the square was covered with the abandonment of what looked like a refugee camp evacuated in minutes. I don't know if this year they found pieces of clothing amidst the empty bottles and plastic bags, but I wouldn't be surprised.
The problem isn't so much recycling and putting in the appropriate bin. It still hasn't reached that point with some people. They still have to be taught to pick up the trash and not just let it lay where they were finished with it. It's a question of consideration toward others who may encounter what has been left behind and to whom it just might be problematic.
Europe has also succumbed to the i generation. The generation which says I come first. I am the important one. I don't have to listen to anyone else. I wonder if the others generation will ever appear. Somehow, I doubt it, it's not as comfortable to think about others as it is to think about oneself.
It is said that even on Mount Everest, one of the last pristine places on Earth, there is trash that climbers have left behind. If they could carry up their belongings, why couldn't they carry them back down? That being the case, it shouldn't be strange to see overgrown ditches stuffed with papers and plastics and cans along our roads. It has become commonplace for us when trying to find out of the way spots for our picnics when we drive around Galicia, to find a beautiful little corner and see it filled with all sorts of junk from previous travellers. Tissues, plastic wrappers, plastic bottles, bags, smashed cans, cans bleached from the sun, everything that was too much of a burden to someone to pick up and take back home to put in the trash bin.
The local festival in Rianxo, in honor of the Virgin of Guadalupe, was last week. Apart from the traditional bands, there was also a rock concert one day, and another day there were a couple of DJ's. Young people congregated at those spots in droves, including the main square where the bands were. Somehow, young people can't seem to be able to listen to music without drinking. (Well, neither could we when we were young, now that I think about it.) And it's always cheaper if you buy the bottles at the supermarket and mix the drinks yourself. So, young people appear during the night lugging plastic sacks of bottles and plastic glasses. All that generates trash. All that trash generates headaches when the streetcleaners go out to do their jobs in the mornings. There simply aren't enough streetcleaners on the town payroll to clean up everything in one morning.
This year, the organization that sets up all the activities for the youth set up a Facebook challenge called Eu Recollo a Miña Merda (I pick up my own shit), and asked people to send them a photo of them throwing out the trash they generated. Small prizes were offered for the best photos. It worked, but it didn't seem to reach enough people. In the wee, wee morning hours after the DJ's closed up shop, the area where they had been partying resembled a landfill. The last day of the festival, the music went on until mid morning. When the band packed up their truck-stage, and the cleaning crew came in, a few were still sleeping it off in the portals and the square was covered with the abandonment of what looked like a refugee camp evacuated in minutes. I don't know if this year they found pieces of clothing amidst the empty bottles and plastic bags, but I wouldn't be surprised.
The problem isn't so much recycling and putting in the appropriate bin. It still hasn't reached that point with some people. They still have to be taught to pick up the trash and not just let it lay where they were finished with it. It's a question of consideration toward others who may encounter what has been left behind and to whom it just might be problematic.
Europe has also succumbed to the i generation. The generation which says I come first. I am the important one. I don't have to listen to anyone else. I wonder if the others generation will ever appear. Somehow, I doubt it, it's not as comfortable to think about others as it is to think about oneself.
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| Guadalupe, 2013 |
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