The memory of Sydney being scorched by drought seems almost surreal these days. When we moved to New York in 2008, Sydney was dry as a bone. The Sprogs had never know the childhood pleasure of hi-jinks with a garden hose. Now Sydney’s seems permanently soggy and I sometimes wonder if the rain will ever stop. (Though we’ve had some amazing autumn days, finally.) Here’s something I wrote about water waste when I first arrived in New York. Such a different world!
“I can’t believe how much water there is inNew York, and I’m not talking about the brown, sluggish Hudson River that wends its way up both sides of Manhattan. When I first arrived in the city, it wasn’t the cosmopolitan vibe that dazzled me, it was the excess of H20.
Everywhere I turn, I see people extravagantly hosing things: steps, footpaths, walls, gardens, cars. The gutters surge with water, it pools at every intersection. At the park, I watch my children frolic in non-stop sprinklers shaped like hippos, elephants and dolphins. I am mesmerised by the water as it splashes onto the ground near my feet and sweeps in thick rivulets into the drains.
I read a statistic at theMuseumofNatural Historythat the average American uses 17% more water every day than people in most other countries. After spending a month inNew York, I’m beginning to understand why.
I’ve lived withSydney’s drought restrictions for so long that it’s hard to conceal my shock at such waste. Don’t they realise how precious water is? Where is it all coming from? Won’t they run out if they’re not careful?
My children, on the other hand, love it. The only world they’ve ever known is one where water is rationed. At home, they were occasionally allowed to play with a precious bucket of the stuff. Sometimes we’d fill a blow-up pool for them, then siphon the remains into the parched garden when they’d finished.
The summers of my childhood were very different: full of sprinklers, slip-n-slides, games with hoses … But as I grew up, the water levels went down. We could only water the garden on Wednesdays and Sundays. We took shorter showers. We turned the tap off when we cleaned our teeth. We watched scary reports about dam levels declining on the news every night.
If my family hadn’t moved toNew York, our next major purchase would have been a rainwater tank. Buying a new sofa would have been more fun, but having a greener home seemed the right thing to do.
InSydney, you apply for a licence for to use water outside the normal parameters. InNew York, you apply for a licence to unscrew your local fire hydrant and let the water explode into the air so you can cool off on a hot afternoon. Summer drew to a close soon after we arrived and there’s a nip in the air now, so I don’t think we’ll get to see a hydrant in full flight.
The colder air hasn’t stopped the girls wanting to strip off every time they see a fountain in a park. I carry their swimsuits with me everywhere, just in case. The squeals of delight as they dash through the spray fill me with a guilty joy.
I wonder if I’ll wake up one morning and think its normal to let so much water drain away. I’m already finding myself taking longer showers and thinking, “Everyone else is doing it, so why not me?”
I’ve already embraced the plastic bag again without a murmur. The recycling bag is still a novelty around here. It’s disturbing how quickly my eco-mindedness has been allowed to slide when others aren’t making it easy for me to be greener.
One thing my guilty conscience hasn’t managed to overlook – yet – is the excess of packaging that keeps coming through my door. My groceries are delivered each week in a stack of boxes, every item cushioned in foam, individually wrapped in plastic. I can’t bear to throw it all away, so I’m using it to build the kids a cubby in their bedroom. At the rate the building materials are coming, it’ll be a castle by the time we leave.”
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