Trash etiquette

So, one of the great differences we have found between the USA and Latvia is -- garbage collection. As a US city-dweller, we had become accustomed to just putting our trash can near the curb and two days a week the garbage truck comes by and collects our trash. A simple, well-thought out process.

It's not so easy in Latvia. There are no personal trashcans! You cannot put your trash bags on the curb. You cannot put a trashcan outside on the curb for the trash man to pick up while you are gone. No, the procedure is much more complex here.

First, they do have trash collection 5-days a week. However, the truck comes at different times so you have to be aware of the daily schedule. Second, you have to take your trash to the truck when he arrives. It doesn't matter if you are 92-years old and live on the top floor ... if you want your trash in that truck, then you'd better get it down to the street. Third, the trash truck driver is strictly that ... a driver. He does not pick up any bags, boxes, or anything.

My driver's name is Aivars. I know that because he has it in the window of the trash truck. Evidently it is a pretty sweet job. Nice green truck, just drives around all day, knowing that the entire trash collection process is dependent on you. Sometimes, (usually on Friday nights) he even has his wife (I'm assuming here) in the cab with him.

None of this would be so bad if you knew exactly when he would arrive. The procedure is that around the time he is supposed to be there, everybody starts congregating in the street near the pick-up point. There are many people that I only meet on trash day, so it does have a sort of community effect. We all stand around looking at each other's trash and then when the majestic Aivars shows up, it is a mad dash to throw your junk into the truck first. Some of these older Latvian ladies can move pretty fast, let me tell you. If you don't get there first, then you have to wait until Aivars compacts the first load before you throw yours in.

Now, I'm not one to complain. But I know that Aivars saw me running down the street with my trash bag. I'll admit I was a couple of minutes late but I didn't hear him until he had started to compact the load. By the time I got my shoes on, grabbed the trash bag, and ran around the house to the street, he had started down the way. I'm thinking that he has to stop soon but he just kept on truckin'. I don't believe I was singled out because I was an American, I think he was just teaching me a basic of Latvian culture---don't be late for trash pick-up.

So, Mr. Aivars, I won't make that mistake again. I'll be there early with all of the other Latvians, waiting and hoping that you won't be late. But please, just don't leave me running down the street again ... it's embarrassing when all of the old ladies are laughing and pointing at me!

Here is a picture of Aivars and his trash truck as it speeds by our flat window: