The flu is mostly gone and with it, my philosophical delirium. I even finished the book on Buddhism and if I found any enlightenment, it disappeared when my head cleared. Today I go back to the mundaneness of daily life.
I barely slept last night because although the head is clear, the throat still tickles, trying to dispell the gunk that’s collected there over the past week. It was a surprise then, to be woken by the bup-bup-bup-bup of the garbage truck late this morning. It normally arrives in front of our house at around 8am, but this morning I heard the sounds about 20 minutes early. I jumped up, grabbed the bins and rushed downstairs, joining a groggy looking neighbour on the driveway.
We sat there, looking sheepishly at each other as we both realised that we’d been duped. The truck was still far down the hill and it was another 20 minutes before the full volume of the horn enticed the rest of the denizens of our building out of their flats. The truck beeps as it goes quickly down our street, then turns up the hill again to wake others up before coming back to make the slow collection run. It’s a strange sight in this traditional world. The Japanese government have donated two modern garbage collection trucks with the mechanical compressor to help with waste management.
Although they have a basket set aside for collecting PET and glass bottles and tins, I’ve seen them tip it in with the rest of the rubbish once it fills up, so either it’s being done for show (to get people into the habit before the full process is available) or perhaps it’s easier to sort out if it’s all compressed together. Either way, there’s little we can do about it. I joined the queue to wash the bucket at the outside tap, then tramped upstairs to where Marie and Pierre had breakfast waiting.