Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Meet the Boys...and Stop With the Trash Already

These are the boys, my buddies Toby and Blackie; and this is the back entrance to the compound where we live.  As you can see, the compound backs onto a beach and the boys love it.  The area has been cleared of all brush and the back wall does not go all the way to the shoreline like on other properties.  This sandy area is outfitted with two concrete benches and since logs regularly wash up onshore, additional “seating” is arranged by visitors; makeshift “beach furniture”.

This clearing was probably a nice concept when the compound was built, however, the clearing is way too inviting to locals for my taste…

Uh oh, he’s complaining again.

Listen, I actually like the people here and I appreciate the local culture, but everyone who comes to the beach that backs our compound brings food and drink…and then they leave all of their garbage behind.  Kids are on the beach every afternoon after school.  On the weekend, entire families congregate; some bring BBQ grills, grandma and even their hooka’s.

The trash that is left behind is obscene.  Locals have the perspective that someone else will take care of it.  This is of particular note since much of the crowd is repeat visitors…and they never pick up after themselves.

This is largely upsetting because you can only get to the beach via car.  This means that everything you brought with you can easily be taken back with you.  No one does.  Garbage is left to rot and plastic bottles, cups, paper plates, etc. and left for high tide to wash away.

And then there are my boys.  They love the beach.  They can run and play…and scavenge for all the friggin’ bits and pieces left behind.  I often get more exercise chasing them down to take back that found chicken bone.

Signs to pick up after yourself are posted, but to no avail.  

My solution is simple.  Whenever there is an unusually high tide, I try and push some of the “beach furniture” (washed up logs) into the waves so it gets washed away, hopefully making it a little less comfortable to bring grandma for a seven course meal.

There goes another dinner table.

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