很有趣的數篇文章台灣
台灣經驗 就是「倒垃圾」經驗
羅麗珠（Julia Ross），國籍：美國，在台：一年，現職：華盛頓ＤＣ的自由撰稿者。圖／Julia Ross提供
今年年初，許多台北市民都收到一張市長郝龍斌簽名的單張，那是美國人茱莉亞．羅絲投書華盛頓郵報的文章中譯：「我在台北學到的垃圾功課」。
內容描述羅絲的「台灣經驗」：鉅細靡遺的垃圾分類、壯觀的等垃圾車隊伍，讓她回到美國深思：我對消費的每一樣東西都有責任，「這門功課，跟中文課一樣有價值」。
兩年多前，身為自由撰稿者的羅絲獲得美國傅爾布萊特獎學金到台灣研究，租住台北木柵，現已返美。經由電子郵件，羅絲接受本報訪問，談她的投書與台灣經驗。
問：你的投書「在台北學到的垃圾功課」被官方大量散發，可以談談嗎？
答：文章刊出來已經四個月了，我收到許多電子郵件，有台灣人跟我道謝，也有印度、美國、香港及歐洲的回收業者，想知道台灣的資源回收作法。
垃圾蒐集 方式迷人
我回到美國之後，看到抗暖化這麼熱門，大家不斷在談「碳抵銷」，但消費還是這麼暢旺！我覺得可以分享我在台灣學到的垃圾回收理念和作法，因為台灣經驗，我自己改變很多。
當我第一次在木柵把我的垃圾丟上垃圾車開始，我就被台灣的垃圾蒐集儀式給迷住了。在台灣，倒垃圾是件整個社區的大事。不像在美國，丟垃圾就只是丟出去罷了，晚上丟、早上有垃圾車載走，大家不會見面。
等垃圾車是台灣最生動的社區經驗，外國朋友都該親眼體會一下：
不同種族、不同收入階層和職業的人，都參與這場倒垃圾的盛會，這也讓我覺得自己真的是這個社區的一分子。
像我在投書裡寫的：「我看見夜市的小吃攤老闆提著一大桶蛋殼，邊等垃圾車邊跟便利商店的店員聊天；幫主人倒垃圾的菲傭提著垃圾袋，用家鄉話聊天，還交換廚房用品，熱鬧得像星期天早上的跳蚤市場。還有一些拾荒者穿梭著想撿些紙板和報紙，可以多賣點錢。里長會出來吹哨子維持交通。」這些畫面至今還是很深刻。
垃圾丟出 才知浪費
我的房東太太幫我上了堂丟垃圾的速成班：先到便利商店去買政府規定的專用垃圾袋，
你丟得多就得多花錢買袋子。然後，在政府規定的時間才能把垃圾拿出去，和其他居民一樣，在巷口等垃圾車和資源回收車。
當你把自己的垃圾丟上車，你會看到你整個星期消耗了多少東西，你會覺得自己該為這些消耗負責。
有些房東會幫房客垃圾分類。我有位美國朋友一搬進他台北的套房，就丟了好幾袋的垃圾出來，結果他的房東太太仔細檢視他的垃圾之後，責備他吃了太多糖，水果吃太少。他覺得很羞愧，隔天馬上買了一袋橘子，指望房東太太會注意到他故意放在垃圾最上面的橘子皮。
我的房東太太是第一個教我怎麼搭公車、怎麼付車資的人。要先看司機座位旁邊的「上車投幣」或「下車投幣」燈號，這對剛到台灣的人，真的是很有用的資訊。
問：你會如何對美國友人形容台灣？
答：我想我會說，台灣是傳統中國、日本及美國文化綜合體，很有趣，而且人民非常、非常友善。我從沒有在別的國家覺得如此自在。
台北食物 勝過上海
我曾經在上海住過一陣子，比較兩地，我會說，第一，台北有更多人說英文，溝通更容易。第二是食物，上海食物太甜也太油了。所以當我在台北發現有這麼多不同的中國菜，我真是鬆了一口氣。
要說台灣有什麼事讓我抓狂，就是每次我到大賣場買東西，很多人都會盯著我的購物車看，想要知道這老外到底都吃些什麼，啊，我受不了！
(以下是原文)
What I Picked Up About Trash in Taipei
By Julia Ross
Sunday, December 2, 2007
When I planned for my year in Taiwan two summers ago, trash was the last thing on my mind. The more obvious challenges of moving abroad -- finding an apartment, buying a cellphone and navigating the bus system -- preoccupied me in the weeks before my departure. I worried most about studying Mandarin full-time, the difficulty of mastering the language's four tones and the intricate arcs, fishhooks and grids that make up written Chinese.
But strange things happen when you cross cultures. Unexpected frustrations vex you, and habits ingrained over years suddenly come up for negotiation. So it was for me and waste disposal.
On this leaf-shaped island of 23 million people 100 miles off China's coast, trash matters. My Taipei landlady was the first to make that point, when she gave me a crash course on how to dispose of household waste like a local. First, buy city-approved trash bags at the corner 7-Eleven. Then, meet the garbage truck five nights a week at the mouth of a nearby alley. Finally, heave the bags onto the truck yourself.
You'll recognize the truck, she said, because it plays music -- a tinny version of the Beethoven classic "Elise," as I soon discovered.
With help from the melodic warning, I figured out where and when to show up. Understanding the mandatory recycling system was more troublesome. In Taiwan, recycling trucks tag along behind trash collectors, but they accept only certain items on certain nights. According to the strictly enforced schedule, plastic bottles must be separated from plastic wrapping and bags, and flat recyclables, such as Styrofoam trays and cardboard dumpling boxes, are collected only on Mondays and Fridays. Show up with bundled newspapers on the wrong night, and you'll get an earful from the sanitation worker. Feigning ignorance of Mandarin won't absolve you, either.
Waiting for the garbage truck is one of Taiwan's liveliest communal rites. Many evenings I watched food vendors from the night markets, buckets of eggshells in hand, chat up convenience store clerks alongside Filipina nannies who traded kitchen appliances as if they were at a Sunday morning swap meet. Freelance recyclers keen to make a few dollars showed up to collect cardboard and newspapers, which they would sell back to the city. An alderman with a whistle kept traffic at bay.
These curbside jaunts were my initiation into Taiwan's broader waste-disposal network, made up of municipal employees and regular citizens all doing their part to keep the system humming. Watching the city's disparate trash tribes at work shamed me into compliance after years as a half-hearted recycler back home. I even came to feel a peculiar solidarity with the "ladies with tongs," the city transit and university sanitation workers who spend their days sifting through garbage bins in subway stations and on university campuses in search of aluminum cans. And I admired the swift vigilance of food court employees as they swept fast-food wrappers and Styrofoam cups off my table into shallow baskets before I had time to look for a trash can. (There aren't any.)
Then you have nosy landlords, who, depending on the housing arrangement, are sometimes tasked with sorting their tenants' trash. One American friend, upon surrendering several bags of refuse soon after he moved into a studio apartment in Taipei, was dumbfounded when his landlady scolded him for eating too many candy bars and not enough fruit. Humiliated, he bought a bag of oranges the next day, hoping she would notice the peels he planned to leave on top of the pile.
Taiwanese friends tell me that 10 years ago, their capital's sidewalks were drowning in rotting garbage. You'd never know it today, thanks to the introduction of a per-bag trash-collection fee to discourage consumption, a charge for plastic bags at supermarkets and the rigorous recycling policy now in effect. These changes created an infinitely cleaner city. Even more impressive, they fueled a sense of civic responsibility in a place where democracy is still taking root. Just as the Taiwanese invest in their young representative government, they invest in a clean environment. There's a palpable appreciation for hard-won progress.
Back in the United States, green awareness has seemingly taken a quantum leap in the past year, with talk of carbon offsets -- a term I hadn't heard when I boarded my plane for Taipei -- lacing the passenger conversations on long-haul flights. But I've been home for three months now, and U.S. consumption patterns look as robust as ever, with the same limited patchwork of recycling opportunities available. Reducing your "carbon footprint" is a hip way to fight global warming, but what about the trash generated by last night's takeout?
Before my year in Taiwan, I was a lazy environmentalist, dutifully recycling wine bottles and newspapers and opting for paper over plastic, but never willing to go the extra mile if it wasn't convenient. It's no longer so easy to make excuses. Living in a place where I was expected to use what I bought and recycle every last yogurt cup and juice box left me with a new appreciation for what clean streets mean in a civil society, and the realization that I'm responsible for everything I consume. That's as good a Chinese lesson as any.
juliaross2002@yahoo.com
Julia Ross is a writer and former U.S. Fulbright scholar in Taiwan.
有朋友問我怎麼一口出突然跑出這些文章
