Gomi Stress: I'm a Victim

Japan is a small island with a lot of people, and, thus, a lot of garbage. This phenomenon causes a lot of "Gomi Stress" (Garbage Stress) among the Japanese. But they're serious about recycling - so much so, that upon arriving at my apartment, I was greeted with a huge, four-color, two-sided poster describing how to sort my various papers, plastics, glass, and metals into color-coded recycling bags. The problem was that the poster was all in Japanese. And I'd already missed one of the only two designated recycling days for the month.

So, for the last three weeks, the front foyer of my apartment has been covered in trash - er, recyclables - as I've waited for today: Recycling Day!!

I set my alarm early - 7 a.m. - loaded my car with the six bags of recyclables I'd carefully sorted, and headed out to the designated recycling spot for our neighborhood. Pleased that I'd arrived on time (I thought I'd done something right for once), I was disappointed when I began to received strange looks as I pulled the brightly-colored bags out of my car: turns out the bags I used were out-of-date. The color scheme had changed. I'd need to re-sort.

So, at 7:15 a.m., in front of my entire neighborhood, I dug through six bags of my own trash to re-sort it according to the new guidelines. Just in case I didn't stick out enough already...

But I still didn't have the correct bag for plastics. I used blue (stupid gaijin!) and needed green.

I didn't have a green bag. And it was 7:47. Recycling closed at 8 a.m.

A kind recycling staffer explained to me that I could buy bags at the convenience store a few blocks away. But time was running out, she said. I'd have to come back in two weeks. I cringed at the thought of my foyer being covered with plastic bottles for another 14 days. So I hopped in my car, sped off to the combini (I'm getting good at driving on the left), played charades with the store clerks to get what I needed, and sped back to the recycling post.

The staff literally cheered as I pulled in. I victoriously pulled the new green bags out of my car. It was 7:59 a.m.

On a side note, actually throwing something away - not recycling - is even more of a process. Trash Day comes twice a week. I pull all of my trash into yellow bags and literally write my name and address on it before I can throw it away. If I've tried to toss something away that I shouldn't, my concerned neighbors will leave the bag on my front step. Now that's Gomi Stress!