It seems the further along this urban hippie path we get, the more, well, hippie we become. Last weekend we watched Cowspiracy: The Sustainability Secret and in it filmmaker Kip Andersen refers to himself as an Obsessive Compulsive Environmentalist.
OCE vs Urban Hippie
Now, while my colleagues would happily label me OCE (they’ve already pegged me as something of a leftwing revolutionist, so why not?), I’ve never really seen myself that way.
As far as I’m concerned I’m an urban hippie. I do my best not to trash the planet but I’ll still buy avos covered in cling wrap if that’s all there is.
A girl’s gotta have limits. I mean no meal is complete without avo, and besides, at least I only buy local. I wouldn’t dream of buying those Peruvian imposters masquerading as guacamole ingredients. As if.
Ditching the Recycling
On Easter Monday, faced with a frightfully large bag of recycling (it was all but blocking the path to our front door), we drove to our old apartment building in Sea Point to drop it off.
They don’t recycle at our new place and the city has yet to extend its pilot recycling project to our ‘hood, which left us with no choice but to behave like a pair of eco-friendly criminals and leave it on someone else’s doorstep.
Sporty was driving, so I had the dubious task of retrieving the yeti-sized bag from the back of the car and relegating it to the sidewalk. I cast a furtive eye before tossing our clear bag alongside the other bright yellow ones. So not obvious.
“Quickly, drive before anyone sees us,” I yelled to Sporty as I hurled myself back into the car bank robbery getaway style. She pulled off at a leisurely pace, unperturbed by my panicked state. From there we drove all the way to the top end of Sea Point to check the recycling depot’s operating hours and found them open despite it being a public holiday.
“Dammit,” I said to Sporty, “we should have come here first.”
“Should we go back and fetch our bag?” asked Sporty.
I wasn’t sure if she was being serious or just teasing me, but I took a moment to think through the details anyway. In the end I decided that since I’d have to be the shady character stealing trash off the sidewalk the bag could damn well stay where it was.
On the way home Sporty and I discussed our recycling options moving forward and came to the conclusion that until we find a private company to pick it up one of us would have to take the recycling to the Sea Point depot, leaving the other to head up to the Oranjezicht City Farm to empty our compost bucket. Both excursions to be undertaken by bicycle. see Exhibit A below.
Why all the way to Sea Point? Well, while there are drop-off points closer to home, they’re all fussy about what they will and won’t recycle and they also expect you to separate it into paper, plastic etc. Seriously?
In sharp contrast to their lazy City Bowl counterparts, the folks at the Sea Point depot are happy to take everything and they’ll sort it for you. Ermahgerd, them’s my kind of people. Plus, they don’t even charge for their trouble!
Sporty and I always tip with gusto when we go though. We’re firm believers in throwing money at the problem. Okay maybe not all problems, after all, we’re still on our freedomize mission.
So, Where’d the Car Come From?
The astute among you may be wondering how we managed to drive to Sea Point when we don’t own a car. On the Thursday ahead of the long weekend Saskia’s colleague, Linda, decided that we’d love to borrow her car for our four-day vay-cay.
Given the eye-wateringly exorbitant price of petrol and parking I wasn’t keen. Besides, when you drive you get harassed. If you park on the street you’re at the mercy of the self-appointed “parking attendants” and if you opt for undercover pay parking the waterless car wash guys accost you.
Nope, I definitely wasn’t keen. In the end my wife couldn’t say no to Linda, who was beyond enthusiastic at the idea of rendering us mobile for Easter. Also Sporty wanted to go on a road trip to Cape Point.
I snootily pointed out that I had no desire whatsoever to drive anywhere. That is, until Saturday morning dawned wet and windy and I needed a lift to the market. And then of course there was the shady offloading of our recycling on Monday.
I told Sporty that I would happily have strapped the bag to my back and cycled there (so wouldn’t have!), but since she felt the need to drive us I wasn’t going to argue. Finally the post image is what my colleagues would probably imagine if I told them I was going to a concert.
No really, we’re not hippies. 😉