Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Ode To The Rubbish Chute
by venitha
"I'm going to miss the garbage chute," Jim announced from the kitchen one rainy Saturday afternoon.
"Oh, yeah. Me, too." I agreed wholeheartedly. "But the smell not so much." Toss your trash in quickly, then close the door tightly. And if you're pregnant and therefore annoyingly sensitive to horrible smells, shamelssly use that fact to get Jim to do the honors.
So last night, still abask in the glow of a real honest-to-goodness departure date, we were prepared with a consensus response to Ingo's question.
"What will you miss?"
"The rubbish chute." Jim and I nodded agreeably at each other, then at Ingo, a friend in town on business from Germany.
"The what?"
Okay, yeah, maybe there are a few other things as well.
The awesome public transportation. I love not owning a car, never having to drive.
The wonderful friends we've made. Oh, great, now I'm going to have to miss them.
Our amazing apartment. It's really fun to live in a place that makes guests gasp and pull out their cameras.
The incredible travel opportunities. I never thought I'd see the Taj Mahal and Angkor Wat, hike a volcano in Bali, say g'day in Australia, eat soup dumplings in China and spring rolls in Vietnam, let alone all in the same year.
And don't forget sushi, orchids, mangoes, Mustafa, cheap massage, and our always-smiling condo guard, Dawood. Not to mention lovely evenings like last night, made possible by living somewhere that's both a common business travel destination and a popular gateway to Asian vacation spots.
Still, it's hard for such a list not to degenerate into what we won't miss. The stifling heat and torturous humidity. Jim's stress-filled, travel-laden job. The dense population, with its accompanying rude behavior and total lack of personal space. The poorly-stocked grocery store. My endlessly frizzy hair. The inescapable noise. The unconquerable ants. The freezing air-con. The expensive alcohol.
And, oh, God, that smell.
venitha
"Oh, yeah. Me, too." I agreed wholeheartedly. "But the smell not so much." Toss your trash in quickly, then close the door tightly. And if you're pregnant and therefore annoyingly sensitive to horrible smells, shamelssly use that fact to get Jim to do the honors.
So last night, still abask in the glow of a real honest-to-goodness departure date, we were prepared with a consensus response to Ingo's question.
"What will you miss?"
"The rubbish chute." Jim and I nodded agreeably at each other, then at Ingo, a friend in town on business from Germany.
"The what?"
Okay, yeah, maybe there are a few other things as well.
The awesome public transportation. I love not owning a car, never having to drive.
The wonderful friends we've made. Oh, great, now I'm going to have to miss them.
Our amazing apartment. It's really fun to live in a place that makes guests gasp and pull out their cameras.
The incredible travel opportunities. I never thought I'd see the Taj Mahal and Angkor Wat, hike a volcano in Bali, say g'day in Australia, eat soup dumplings in China and spring rolls in Vietnam, let alone all in the same year.
And don't forget sushi, orchids, mangoes, Mustafa, cheap massage, and our always-smiling condo guard, Dawood. Not to mention lovely evenings like last night, made possible by living somewhere that's both a common business travel destination and a popular gateway to Asian vacation spots.
Still, it's hard for such a list not to degenerate into what we won't miss. The stifling heat and torturous humidity. Jim's stress-filled, travel-laden job. The dense population, with its accompanying rude behavior and total lack of personal space. The poorly-stocked grocery store. My endlessly frizzy hair. The inescapable noise. The unconquerable ants. The freezing air-con. The expensive alcohol.
And, oh, God, that smell.
venitha
