My Recycling Failure

Although I have lived in Hungary for nine months, by no means do I have everything figured out. This was reinforced yesterday when I embarked on a doomed hour-long venture to recycle, ending in me shouting expletives frustratedly at a random dumpster on the street while passers-by watched warily.

Let's rewind to my first day in Budapest.

On the bottom floor of my building, there is a room containing three large bins. One is for garbage, one is for plastic and metal, and one is for paper products. There is no bin for glass -- when I asked my landlady, she said the building doesn't recycle glass, so I would just have to take it to a regional recycling center. No problem! I decided to worry about that later, and just started to collect my glass in a big paper bag.

Fast forward to yesterday morning, nine months later. Of course, I still haven't figured out how to recycle my glass, and now there are three huge paper bags filled to the brim with, let's be honest, mostly empty wine bottles. I'm cleaning my apartment from top to bottom in preparation to move out, and I realize that the time has come to deal with the Glass Problem. Now or never. So I hop on the internet, and find a really helpful webpage that tells me that there are recycling centers all over the city, and even gives me a really helpful photo of what they look like and an interactive map. Great! This'll be a breeze.

So-called "recycling center"

I take the smallest of the three bags of glass (still quite large) and I start heading down from my apartment. As I get down to the last set of stairs, a rogue prosecco bottle tumbles from the bag and falls to the ground, making a very noisy CLANK! sound. It begins to roll. I watch as the bottle rolls closer and closer to the stairs. I want to pick it up, but I can't bend down without releasing several of the rogue bottle's comrades from the overfilled bag, so all I can do is watch as it reaches the precipice and then falls down an entire staircase -- CLANK! CLANK! CLANK! CLANK! CLANK! CLANK!

The sound reverberates in the echoey hallway, and one of my neighbors looks in to see what the commotion is about. She sees me trying to balance this huge bag of empty wine bottles while picking up the rogue prosecco bottle (which, by some miracle, did not break). She grunts, typical Old Hungarian Lady fashion, and goes back to her cigarette. I ignore her and begin my journey to the recycling center.

Now, I have mentioned several times that I kept these glass bottles in a paper bag. This fact becomes important, because during all the shifting that occurs during the Great Staircase Dilemma, some of the rinse-water leaks out from the bottles and begins to moisten the paper bag. I become increasingly aware of this and start to walk quite quickly. Not to worry, my fears about the structural integrity of the bottom of the bag were soon put to rest -- because the entire side seam gave way first, and dozens of bottles go CLANK!-ing to the ground, in a glorious cascade of glass.

So there I am, too far from my apartment to go back, and not nearly close enough to the recycling point, holding the sad remnants of a once-proud Aldi bag, surrounded by a horde of rogue bottles at my feet. I stand there for a few moments, in the middle of the sidewalk, empty jam-jars rolling at my feet, deciding what to do. An older man walks by, sees my dilemma, and audibly laughs as he keeps walking. (I'm so glad that my distress could give him a moment of joy.)

Luckily, I always carry a re-useable shopping bag with me, and on this day in particular I had my rather large nylon bag with me. I whip it out and fill it with glass. A small victory in this day of defeat! I continue on my journey to the nearest recycling point, feeling the judging stares of Hungarians as I clank by with my overfilled bag of wine bottles.

After several minutes of clanky walking, I reach the place where there is supposedly a recycling center. It's a park. I look around, and I see nothing. I walk the perimeter of the park, looking for anything that might be glass recycling. Nothing. Confused, I clankily sit down on a bench and consult my phone. Hmm, I think to myself, maybe this one isn't valid anymore. It's kind of a small park. 

There's another recycling center marked on the map not too far from this one, in a much bigger park. I have been to this bigger park several times, and never noticed recycling bins, but I also wasn't really looking for them. They're probably just in a corner somewhere, I tell myself, and begin walking to the bigger park. (Clank, clank).

I reach the bigger park, and begin to walk around. I see the Ferris wheel, I see a basketball court, I see and ice cream stand, and I see lots of benches, but I do not see recycling canisters. Once again, I walk the entire perimeter, to no avail. Discouraged, I once again find a park bench. I sit down next to a homeless man who also has a bag full of glass and nods at me, as if we are part of a secret society. My map tells me that there is a third recycling center just around the corner. Maybe they moved it from inside the park to around the corner, I tell myself hopefully, and I once again hoist my bag of class onto my shoulder and clank away towards the third place. Third time is a charm?

Third time is not a charm. I reach the third place, walk around the whole block, and still do not see a single glass recycling container. Frustrated, and tired of carrying my heavy bag of glass around the whole damn city, I walk into a wine store that is seemingly right where this third "recycling point" should be. I briefly summarize my dilemma and ask the man if he knows where the recycling point is. I thought he might know, since he works in the wine business.

"Not a clue, Miss," he tells me, laughing at my absurdly large bag of bottles. "Good luck, though."

At this point, I am no longer that close to my apartment anymore. I have been lugging my wine bottles around for the better part of an hour, and my shoulder is starting to hurt. I decide to give it one last walk around the block.

As I turn the corner, I think I see it -- a big conglomeration of bins! Maybe this is it! Finally! I walk up them, hoping that my struggle has finally come to an end.

They are not recycling. They are garbage bins.

"HOW DO YOU F***ING RECYCLE IN THIS CITY?" I shout at no one in particular. "I JUST WANT TO DO MY PART FOR THE GODDAMN ENVIRONMENT!".

Passers-by walk by, clearly wondering what the heck is wrong with the crazy tourist. "YOU WIN, BUDAPEST!" I shout. "I GIVE UP!" And I dump my glass into the trash can. The final clank.

As I trudge home with my empty nylon bag, feeling awful about myself for not recycling, I treat myself to an ice cream shaped like a rose to lift my mood. When I get home, I see the other two huge bags of glass still sitting in my closet, taunting me. Resigned, I take them downstairs and throw them into the garbage bin.

And that, friends is the story of how I completely failed to recycle. I still have no idea where the real recycling points in this city are. And, with only a few days left in my apartment, I guess it doesn't matter anymore.

Sigh.

My rose-shaped ice cream.