American Anecdotes, Part I

Last Tuesday some of my fellow Kunmingers and I got together in downtown San Francisco for a lovely dinner at Le Colonial. I had been working all day, and really wasn't thinking, for, although they had sent an e-mail reminding me of my reservation and hinting that it was "fine dining," I came home from work, took off my good clothes, and jumped into jeans and a (thank goodness!) a polo. Of course, I managed to forget my jacket (you can always tell the out-of-towners in San Francisco), which is only further proof that I was not thinking.

But I digress. It was a really nice time seeing Kristina and Jasper before they headed back China-side. And I caught Chesa just before her move back to Ohio to be the return fellow for Oberlin's Shansi Fellowship Program.

Service was spotty, but somehow the waiters knew when we were talking about something inappropriate, as they would inevitably come by just as something "rude" was coming out of my mouth. But beyond that conversation, we talked a little bit about our respective "American moments" that we'd had since our return from China.

Chesa's was one of my favorite:

Within several days of her return home, her friends decided to take her over to Las Vegas for a good time. Now, travelling with Chesa I can attest to the types of hotels we have gotten used to--we were often lucky if they had the bare necessities (ie- hot water). And when you travel in place like that, you develop a certain mindset. Of course, Las Vegas is not Luang Prabang (Laos), and she was staying in the Bellagio, not some shack with a disgusting carpet that had never been vacuumed because they don't have vacuums in Lao. And so, the hotel provided little accouterments such as shampoo, hand soap, etc.

The first day, she gaily opened the hand soap, excited that she didn't have to carry her own little bar around with her like she had, for example, through our entire trip in India. She placed it lovingly by the sink, enjoying its fresh scent and ivory hue. And she was content.

Until the next day, when the maid viciously removed the soap and replaced it with a new, unopened bar. Chesa was distraught. "How could they be so wasteful?!" she inquired of her American friends. "It's not like the soap was almost gone or anything. We had only used it once or twice!"

Her friends tried desperately to clam her, eventually distracting her with a dirty martini and a lounge by the pool.

But Chesa did not forget. The next morning, before leaving for the day, she took her new bar of soap, and wrapped it lovingly in a tissue (also provided). She then scoured the bathroom for a hiding place, eventually caching her little treasure just inside the tissue box, where it would be safe from the clutches of the wasteful maid, yet easily retrievable by one who knew better.

And so, she saved that little pad of soap for the whole rest of her trip there, carefully wrapping it in tissue and stashing it away each day before she left to explore Las Vegas, saving it from a wasteful demise. And as a special boon, she was able to save the new soaps for future travels...hopefully outside the US.

THE END

We were rolling on the floor in hysterics, me more than anyone. Until it suddenly hit me:

My first day at my new job, right as I entered the door, I was greeted by the friendly Shawn. It was right at the tail end of the horrendous heat wave we had in the Bay Area last month (five days straight over 100/40 degrees Fahrenheit/Celsius!). And so, I was parched. He offered me a cup of water and I gratefully accepted.

The cup was a fairly large waxed-paper cup, and so I reused it several times throughout the day without much thinking about it. At the end of the day, I started clearing things off my desk, and placed the cup on the coaster and tucked it into the back corner of my desk.

I returned the next day only to find it missing. The janitor had cleaned the night before and had thrown the cup out with the cup water. I was distraught but determined. That day, I had one cup for coffee and one for my water, but that night, instead of leaving them out on my desk, I sneakily slid the cabinet door behind my desk open and tucked the cups away for the night.

In this way, I saved and reused the cups for several weeks until they were just too decayed to use again. With a tear in my eye, for they had been good to me, I threw them in the recycling.

Now, I'm not sure that it was because either of us had been in China for too long, or if it was just our environmentally friendly or parsimonious ways that made us so unwilling to part with these small luxuries, but it does make you think about how wasteful we in America truly can be.