Finding the trash collection point in our new neighborhood was an adventure.

Shimizu-san, a neighbor, paid a call on me yesterday afternoon to welcome me to the neighborhood. Or maybe she was a spy for her friend, Matsuino-san, who used to live here.

But I put her to the test when I asked if she knew where I should put my trash.

First she looked around the street for the city’s color-coded trash sign. I could have told her she would not find one.

As we stood in the middle of the street, discussing the options, a woman preparing to mount her bicycle spoke to us. She suggested that the utility pole near our garage was an acceptable place. But it has no sign and Shimizu-san was doubtful.

So were were off to the mansion up the hill. Shimizu-san was sure there was a trash point there. But was it where Matsuino-san had put her trash? We asked the caretaker of the building.

“Do you speak Japanese?” he asked me right off. His wife, in the background, encouraged him with a hearty “Gambatte!” when I explained I spoke a little but was studying and getting better.

The trash collection point at the mansion is ours to use, but we must put our burnable trash out precisely on time at 8:30 in the morning on Monday and Thursdays. Too early make the neighborhood ugly. Recyclables are on Wednesdays and landfill day is Saturday.

I owe a debt to Shimizu-san for helping me find out what I needed. She lives “over there” up the hill. I hope I’ll see her again soon. Posted by kuri at October 04, 2000 05:47 AM