A Cross-Cultural Exchange

Monday evening—three days ago--we hosted a party to thank people who had worked for the Gateway to Hope Garden Tour, which funds arts camps for Nicaraguan children.

Our evening activity was hand-thrown ice cream. We placed milk, sugar, and vanilla in a quart Ziploc bag, inserted it into a gallon Ziploc, surrounded the smaller bag with ice and rock salt, and then wrapped it securely with sheets of Styrofoam. After 10 minutes of playing catch with this package in the backyard, guests had made their own ice cream.

It was the eve of our departure for Nicaragua, and my environmental conscience was in hyper-vigilant. Instead of disposables, I provided glass bowls and metal spoons. When guests unwrapped their ice cream, we saved the Styrofoam sheets.

Then, the final test: what to do with the Ziplocs? Was I willing to wash and dry 30 of them? I sighed and  heeded my conscience. “Perhaps it’s silly,” I told Larry, who was helping with the party, “But, thinking of Nicaragua, I simply cannot toss them.”When I carried the Ziplocs into the kitchen, four friends were washing glasses, bowls, and spoons.

I joined them. But when I started to dry the first Ziploc, Sandy sent me for a hanger and clips, telling me there was a better way.

Fast forward to our Nicaraguan guest house, where the windows are forever open to the outdoors, the toothpick holder is a reclaimed salt shaker, and the avocado on my plate is picked from the Hernandez yard.

When I wash my hands in the bathroom sink, I think of the one in my kitchen. Above it hang 30 Ziploc bags, ready for re-use.

And above this bathroom sink in Nicaragua, in respect for North American guests perhaps, something new has replaced the familiar hand towel--a paper towel dispenser.

A cross cultural exchange of sorts.

But not one I expected.