Ode to Sevillan Street Cleaners

Let us have a moment of silent praise for the men and women in blue pants and orange tops.  Let  us admire the orange and white bands under the knees, and let us mute our voices in the faces of  their brooms, dustpans, and rubbish bins.  I give you the Sevillan Street Cleaners.

. . .      . . .    (silence)
 

In Seville, street cleaners have job security my teaching colleagues would admire.  You see, Sevillanos don't seem to have an issue with trash on the streets. Or in the parks. Throughout Sevilla, industrial size dumpsters stand as inconveniently as possible along major roadways.  When we apartment (piso) dwellers take out the trash, we carry our bags to the dumpsters where we can sort it into paper, plastic, glass, metal, or just "trash."  Fairly simple and efficient, right?

Bear in mind that Spaniards live as if they were on borrowed time.  "Tomorrow may never come, so let's relax today and deal with all that silly paperwork tomorrow!" So,  if a Sevillano has something to toss that doesn't fit into one of these categories or into the dumpster, he just leaves the item (or items) somewhere in the general vicinity of the dumpsters.  Likewise, if a Sevilliana finishes a pack of cigarettes outside but at any distance from the dumpsters, she thinks nothing of letting the package drop to the ground where it apparenly disappears from her sight and her mind.  Honestly, in those shoes and that dress, we certainly did not expect her to pick it up, did we?


Seriously, these people are just too darned beautiful and too busy living to worry about what happens to the trash.  Besides, if they picked it all up, what would the street cleaners do?

I'm just asking. 



Adding to the street cleaners' job security, local grocery stores pay workers to deliver flyers (junk mail) to apartments like mine.  I have watched from my terrace as the delivery person tries doors and mailboxes.  If the flyers he is delivering don't fit in the box or under the door, he just leaves them in the general vicinity of the intended door-- on the sidewalk, on a door step, or even on a patio wall -- from which the flyers blow in the breeze, adding colorful clutter to the cobblestoned streets.

I have previously  discussed the dogs who hacen caca (poop) in the tree banks.  But bear in mind that just like young and old humans, sometimes young and old perros have trouble getting to the treebank in time.  As a result, a certain amount of caca adds to the adventure of walking and to the job security of the street cleaners.  To be fair, some dog owners do seem to carry plastic baggies with them on their dog walks.  As far as I can tell, the objective is to take said bag into a park, wait for a big breeze, and let it fly.  I've never seen a dog owner actually use the bag to collect any caca. 

On the off chance that Sevillanos learn to put trash in the dumpsters and the slightly more likely chance that their perro friends become potty trained, one last cultural phenomenon guarantees the street cleaners' pension -- the Bottelon.

Now, in Spain, the consumption of alcohol is prohibited for those under the age of 18.  True.  However, as any Sevillano will tell you -- It's prohibited but accepted.  Read openly accepted.  In practice, this means that while the under 18 crowd can't order beers in a bar or buy wine in a store, they can stand on the street or in the park and share their bottles with no fear of social condemnation or legal consequences.   Hence, the bottelon.

As far as I can tell, "bottelon" is both a noun and a verb. Young people will gather, to "bottleon" in planned or spontaneous groups, and pass a bottle.   When the "bottelon" is over (ie: the bottle is empty), the bottle falls to the ground, either bouncing harmlessly in the grass or shattering resoundingly on the brick roadways or sidewalks.  Given the number of whole and partial bottles I find in the street each morning,  I guess the botteloners prefer the crack of glass on stone  to the gentle thud of glass on grass. 

Thus, the flotsam and the jetsom, the caca and the glass, the discarded doors and plastic bags all fall to the industrious street cleaners who, armed with nothing more than brooms, dustpans, and rolling rubbish bins, make the streets of Sevilla safe for the next bottelon.