First the poubelle, now the tri...

The photo above is of a billboard currently all over town, put up by the mayoral office (the same one that sponsored the anti-dog-turd campaign--see "Paris says 'no' to dog doodie"). It shows a Victorian woman, as you can probably make out, in a posture of despair or confusion. In her hand, an aerosol can. The caption translates as, "118 years after the invention of the garbage can (poubelle), Parisians move on to the sorting out." The small print pointing to the aerosol says, "Aerosols--yellow trash can.'

In keeping with the obliqueness of French billboards, this caption can be interpreted as at once arrogant (we, the Parisians, invented the trash can) and sarcastic (it took us 118 years to figure out it might be a good idea to sort the trash and recycle). Before I go on, a word about the word "poubelle", which, simply for the sound of it (pooh-bell), I adore. When I first learned that poubelle was the word for trashcan, I found it somehow ridiculous and paradoxical. The second syllable, "belle," means "beautiful" in French. The first syllable, well, just sounds silly.

But, as with all things French, the poubelle has a history. Turns out, the trashcan was "invented" by Monsieur Poubelle, a Parisian prefect of police in office--you guessed it--118 years ago. Naturally, the device--if you want to call it that--was named in his honor. We won't--for the sake of the francophilic stance of this web site--explore what Parisians did with their garbage before Mr. Poubelle came along.

Now, don't quote me on this invention thing. The French, as a matter of national pride, claim to have invented just about everything. Which is why the concept of "fact-checking", journalistically speaking, is a concept entirely incomprehensible to them. So, in truly French spirit, I won't fact-check the poubelle story. I'll simply tell it like it is: a story.

But back to the present. All buildings in Paris have big municipal garbage cans that are the property of the city. Every day, the men in green come along in their trucks, the entry code to every building in hand, and wheel these cans out to the street. There, they are hoisted smartly and ingeniously by a special device on the back of the garbage truck and their contents dumped within. With this clever and sophisticated system, no one needs have the demeaning job of hanging on to the back of the truck to manually dump all shapes and sizes of private trash cans into the truck. Everyone rides smartly up in the cab, and things have a system in Paris.

Before this latest initiative, we all had one huge can with a green lid and a smaller can with a blue lid. The green lid was for anything--all kinds of trash. The blue lid was for paper (not cardboard!!). It was hoped you had the civil consciousness to separate. Meanwhile, on every other street corner just about, were (and still are) immense cylindrical containers (taller than a person, and about 10 or 12 feet in diameter, with special round apertures with rubber flaps into which you put all glass bottles (lots of those in this town) and jars, but not, as explained on the outside of the receptacle, light bulbs or medical vials. I will here testify that I have always been impressed at the degree to which Parisians schlep their glass to these containers. It's a common sight to see restaurant personnel in white aprons hauling entire crates of empty wine bottles to them.

One wondrous day I witnessed how these enormous cylinders are emptied. French ingenuity knows no bounds. A special (green) truck approaches the giant green cylinder. A sort of gargantuan corkscrew unfolds from the top of the truck, inserts itself into a special receptacle in the top of the cylinder, hoists same into the air, and dumps it into a special opening in the truck. Meanwhile, the men in green stand smugly on the sidewalk, witnessing this very nifty affair.

About a month ago, everyone received in his mailbox a booklet from the Mayor's office, the Guide du tri 2002. It has 30 pages, including an index of garbage items with a color code to denote into which of the new trash cans to put each one. All this, of course, by way of announcing the new trash cans, and--no small matter--explaining the use of same.

The new cans, it seems, were of three types and thus, colors. The same old green, a white lid, and a yellow lid. The white lid seems destined to take the place of the wondrous corner cylinders, for in them you're to put glass. The yellow one is very confusing. Not only for paper, as you might have imagined, but also for all manner of plastic--including water bottles (more of those here than anywhere on earth), bags (ditto), packaging, and so forth. Also into this same yellow can go cans, small appliances, cardboard--in short, everything recyclable that is not glass. There are several helpful photos depicting how you are to empty the plastic bag containing your recyclables into the yellow can, then toss in the empty bag. There is to be no trash in bags in the yellow can. Have a doubt?, the booklet queries--then throw it in the all-purpose green can, which remains true to the spirit of the poubelle.

Two things puzzle me. One is, that our building never received a white can for glass. Since I'm on the top floor, I can look down into the neighboring courtyards and see that the neighbors all have the full panoply of new cans. I guess I'll keep visiting the giant green cylinders, in hopes that I'll get to witness that nifty emptying process again.

The second thing is this matter of the yellow can. Just who is going to sort out all that stuff? Who...or what? Will it be the occasion for another snazzy French gizmo? Or a means of creating a lot of new employment in the form of folks who have to sort the stuff by hand?

As far as I can tell, it's what Denis has named as one of two big flaws he'll admit to in French culture. This is the need or desire of everyone to constantly reinvent the wheel, both on the corporate level, but most especially, on the governmental level. Before, we had a perfectly good system, to which it was only necessary to add another can or two for recyclable sorting to be complete. But instead, we have something that is mysterious, mostly inexplicable, and undoubtedly--at some level--quite ponderous.

Oh well. So much more grist for the mill of the new administration, whatever it may be. Meanwhile, I'll do my best to sort correctly, dutifully consulting my detailed and colorful guide when needed, and hope that those fantastic corner gizmos remain intact. After all, so for, the moto-crottes haven't become history. Hope springs eternal!

All the best from Paris,

Barb

Share