These street-side garbage containers look tidy, don’t they. Very Spanish. I’ve seen beggars on the Metro who take more pride in their appearance than I do.

I assure you, they look the same on the inside as trash cans anywhere.

This morning I took out the compost and the garbage. Public compost bins are new to Artika. A nice, English-speaking representative came to our door a few weeks ago to explain the system: The magnetic key is to keep folks from using the compost container as a trash can.

I used the key (Exhibit B) to throw in the compost bag first, and then I threw the trash into the other bin. I also threw in the compost key.

After practicing some Spanish curse words (any opportunity), I lifted the lid and leaned all the way into the very stinky trash container, bending at the waist until the upper half of my body was in the can and my bum was hanging out for all to see.

A quick glance over my shoulder to the woman pushing the baby carriage and I knew I was safe. She had seen much worse.

I couldn’t reach the key, which I’d managed to nudge with a fingertip to the very bottom of the container while the lid bounced on my back.

I climbed the stairs to our first-floor flat to get the broom and the long-handle dust pan, some unformulated plan for scooping out the key. Which I tried, except the handle came off so the dust plan was now at the bottom of the bin along with the key.

Eventually, I retrieved the key and the dust pan. There is no moral to this story except maybe to wear your best looking jeans when you’re taking out the trash.

Spanish Trash