The woman: Alison Turner, 34. WH's chief sub-editor
The abode: Semi-detached terrace in Newtown, Sydney, shared with one housemate, one dog, one worm farm
Day one: Wednesday
Today, my first day of attempting to be rubbish free, WH has a brainstorming day out of the office, at a posh hotel. As I make my way there I realise I forgot to have breakfast and I'm STARVING. Luckily an obliging barista at the hotel lobby café gives me some fruit bread on a plate, sans paper wrapping or napkin, and my skinny flat white in a tall mug - no takeaway cup and no packet sugar, I make him spoon it in out of a jar. So far so good.
By mid-morning, three people have already asked me about what I'm doing about toilet paper and tampons. At home I use recycled Safe loo roll, which I feel is a fair compromise, but as for toilets elsewhere? I'm afraid this just has to be one of my sins against the planet...
Luckily I don't have my period this week, but for those who are curious, there are eco-friendly options for the modern menstruator. There's the menstrual cup, which is a reusable cup that collects menstrual fluids, and which you take out, empty, wash and reuse as needed. Then there's Rad-Pads, which are basically pads made out of cloth, which you soak, wash and reuse. Hmmm.
Lunch is at the hotel buffet, and I thoughtlessly put two unpipped olives on my plate. In order for them to avoid the rubbish bin, after I eat them I have to suck the pips clean and put them in my pocket to take home and plant in my garden. I leave my unused napkin neatly folded on the table.
Luckily there's no other food scraps, or I would have had to find something to carry then home in so I could put them in the worm farm my housemate and I have set up.
I accumulate my first plastic waste - I finish a course of pills and am left with the empty sheet. I place it on my bedside table. It looks slightly pathetic, sitting there alone, and I feel guilty about already having my first piece of rubbish when it hasn't even been 24 hours.
After a run, my stomach is growling and I realise I haven't made any plans for dinner. I end up eating canned soup (a recyclable can that I wash and put in the recycling) and go to bed feeling slightly unsatisfied.
Day two: Thursday
At the moment I have plastic bag sitting on my desk (which I'm going to try and use all week), that I'm using to collect my worm-farmable and recyclable waste to take home. At the moment it contains two apple cores (one of which I automatically threw into the office bin and had to fish out - it's a classy look), a recyclable soup can (is soup all I'm going to eat all week?) and a squished aluminium drink can.
The barista in the café downstairs makes my coffee in a mug I bring along. Sadly bringing your own mug seems to be very unfashionable, as I get lots of odd looks, and have to explain what I'm doing at great length.
Later on, after using the office toilet and washing my hands, I realise I can't dry them as there are only paper towels and no hand-dryer. I sheepishly wipe my hands on my skirt and hope no-one thinks I'm a weirdo.
I've been doing my shopping with a clever little bag I got from Howard's Storage World. It's big enough to use for groceries, and when you're not using it, it folds up and fits into a little bag of its own, which fits easily in a handbag. But shopping receipts are annoying - I have to make sure I hold on to them so I can put them in the recycling. Do we really need them for every single purchase?
I'm finding myself becoming really aware of everything I use - the printer at work, body wash in the shower - this is really making me think about how I usually breeze through the day: consuming and discarding without a second thought. Someone asked me today if I'd had to blow my nose yet. Luckily no, but the thought hadn't even occurred to me! Note to self: bring a hankie tomorrow.
I'm determined not to have canned soup again for dinner. Luckily my mother calls and invites me over. She even has her own compost bin that I can use for my day's accumulated scraps. Bonus!
My mother solves any potential waste-producing problems at home by taking me out to dinner at a local café (is that cheating?) where I order a chicken breast with vegies that I can eat without leaving anything left over. But then when they bring out my plate, I see with horror that they have garnished it with an enormous spring of parsley. I HATE parsley. Was I really going to have to eat it? Bugger that - I make Mum eat it, even the stalk.
I carefully leave my unused paper napkin aside, but when they clear the table, the waitress grabs the napkin before I can stop her and scrunches it up on top of our dirty plates! We debate the issue, and decide that - since I hadn't used it or disposed of it myself, it didn't count as waste that I had accumulated. Phew.
Day three: Friday
Today I have been looking into the whole consumerism issue, and stumbled across an American group called The Compact which started when a group of mates in San Francisco vowed that they weren't going to buy anything non-essential for a year, in an act of protest against the thoughtless consumerism of the Western World, and the impact this has on the environment. The Compact has since grown into a huge social movement, with people all across the States dressing in op-shop gear, sitting on second-hand furniture and riding broken-down bikes to work.
Then there is the inspiring story of Matthew and Waveney from New Zealand, who took on the rubbish-free challenge for a whole year. Between the two of them they only accumulated two kg of waste, or 1130 kg less than the average Australian couple. Now that's dedication.
This all sounds quite reasonable when you consider Freeganism - a movement that is made up of people who don't buy anything at all, and get their food and other essentials from rummaging around in dumpsters.
I avoid the canned soup waiting for me at home by going to a mate's place for dinner. I bring Banrock Station wine - proceeds from all wine sold goes towards conservation projects around the world, including in Australia and New Zealand. I opt for a 2L cask instead of a bottle, as the box is made by recycled cardboard and a cask will last a while, ostensibly...
Day four: Saturday
A cut finger needs a Band-Aid this morning, which means more rubbish, albeit a piddling amount. Still, each item I have to dispose of is increasingly depressing. As well as the Band-Aid packaging, I've had to toss some dried-up old instant coffee (I decide instant wouldn't be safe for our worms, although filtered coffee grounds are fine). I scrape the greying granules into the plastic bag I have decided to collect my rubbish in, but wash the jar so I can reuse it.
Saturday night sees me commit my first major eco-sin. After getting tipsy on Cascade Green at the pub, my housemate and I throw environmental caution to the wind by ordering pizza. Geez it tasted good, but would it leave a bitter taste in my mouth on the morrow? After all, you can't recycle pizza boxes, can you? Could I make the dog eat it? I'm sure he'd be happy to give it a go, but there's a chance it could constitute animal cruelty...
Day five: Sunday
When I wake up, surprisingly without a hangover (thanks, preservative-free beer) I decide that I'm not going to let this pizza box beat me. A quick Google search reveals that most councils allow you to recycle your pizza boxes if you scrape of all the gunky cheese bits off first. But better still, you can tear it up into bits and put it on your compost pile. I vow to start one of these, as I think our worm farm is getting a little overloaded.
Later that day I head to the supermarket. I find myself wandering the aisles, wanting a lot but being really aware of not needing that much. I think twice before the few purchases I do make.
As well as the pile of canned food: canned beans, canned soup, canned tuna (I look like I'm preparing for a nuclear attack) I find a dinner saviour - pasta in a recyclable cardboard box! Hurrah! Along with a glass jar of pasta sauce, which I can wash and reuse or recycle, and some veggies, I can make a satisfying meal!
When I'm waiting in the checkout queue, clutching my grubby collection of green bags, the couple behind me give me a surreptitious look, before discussing their own lack of reusable shopping bags in whispers. The husband is dispatched to grab some. Result - I have inspired someone to forgo plastic shopping bags! Apparently Australians use 3.92 billion plastic bags per year. That is really scary.
When I go to pack my bag for work tomorrow, I just cannot bring myself to reuse the plastic bag I have been using to carry my worm farm scraps - it's just too icky. I take a new one from a bag I have hanging on the back of the kitchen door, which is stuffed with old plastic bags that I use as bin liners. It's running low. Reusing plastic bags is all well and good, although they still ultimately end up as landfill, and in our parks and waterways but what happens when they run out? Will I have to start making my own bin liners, woven from bamboo that I grow in my own yard? Some more Googling ensues, and I find that there are biodegradable bin-liners available.
Day six: Monday
This morning I forget to check the fruit I buy for those little stickers, and I find one on my apple. Another piece of rubbish. My four-year-old nephew got one of these fruit stickers stuck up his nose recently, and had to go to hospital to get it removed.
I also get a bad coffee from the café downstairs, and have to pour it (weeping) down the sink. Lunchtime brings a tuna and salad roll (I buy my bread roll from the supermarket, using my own bag, rather than the plastic ones supplied). I wash the can of tuna to take home and put in the recycling, and gather my vegie scraps in to a new scrap bag. Geez I'm good.
At home I prepare a meal of risotto, which comes in a plastic satchel. Tsk tsk. I wash this and add it to my encouragingly small garbage stockpile. While preparing my dinner I drop some food on the floor. Gasp! Luckily the dog eats it. I always knew dogs were good for you - they're obviously good for waste disposal as well. Unfortunately I can't get him to eat the onion skin from the salad I make. You can't put onion on a worm farm, so into the rubbish bag it goes.
Day seven: Tuesday
The day dawns bright and clear and I feel a guilty sense of relief that I've reached the final day. I look with satisfaction at the small bag of rubbish that I have accumulated and hope that it doesn't grow any more over the next 12 hours.
When I get to work and make breakfast I find myself finishing a box of cereal, which means some more plastic rubbish to add to my collection, although I can recycle the cardboard box. Still, couldn't it have lasted one more day? But that ends up being the last rubbish of my experiment. One tiny bag that weighs no more than a few grams - I rock! (The bag doesn't weigh enough to register on my bathroom scales.)
So what have I missed most this past week? Chewing gum and cup-a-soup. And napkins!
But there are also some habits I intend to stick to, namely bringing my own bags every time I go shopping, recycling recyclables and not just chucking them in the bin when I think no-one's looking, being more aware of what I buy at the supermarket, using things more fastidiously (eg, body wash, shampoo, razors, moisturiser, washing detergent) and preparing my food more carefully so that nothing gets wasted (or eaten by the dog).
This past week, a few people have made sneering jokes about me "saving the planet". I was never fooling myself that I was saving the planet in seven days, but what's wrong with making a little extra effort?
This attitude of: "Well, this problem is too big for me to do anything about it, so why bother?" is so frustrating. I've learned it's not about expecting miracles overnight, or living like a monk (or a napkin-deprived WH staffer). It's about making small, realistic changes to your life and your lifestyle. And if your own planet-conscious behaviour inspires even one other person to make a change in his or her own habits, then that is a really good thing.http://au.lifestyle.yahoo.com/b/womenshealth/3114/waste-watch/
