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Ron Smit's avatar

Claire, I think my own (also Dutch) parents and in-laws also came from that generation that accumulated properties, and saved money and items as insurance against the lean years that might come one day. For instance, at retirement. Now, in my own generation, we are striving to accumulate and own as little as possible (though we are building a house of our own).

Interesting about the issue with donating used clothing in Japan! We visited Wakayama a couple of months ago, and also bought some used clothes that were needed due to an unexpected cold spell. (Well, cold relative to Lusaka in Zambia, I guess.)

We found the people in the Wakayama Prefecture to be very friendly, and very respectful. Not just of us visitors, but of each other. But then we didn't try to give them our used clothing :).

Claire Polders's avatar

Oh, the Japanese in Osaka were vert respectful, too. But they wouldn't the break the rules for our sake. They wanted to help but just couldn't...

Daniel and I buy and donate secondhand clothes often as we move between different climates. Shops or charities usually gladly take what we offer them. My experience in Japan taught me, however, that in richer nations, my "donations" can be burdens.

specchan's avatar

I loved how you described the feeling of “possessions becoming a liability.”

As someone living in Japan, I see how small spaces naturally teach us to choose what truly matters.

Thank you for sharing this gentle perspective.

Sam Ali's avatar

Claire,

Reading this, I was struck by how the complications you endured to dispose of one bag of clothes simply wouldn’t work here in the United States. The idea of having no public waste bins might function smoothly in Japan, but here it would encourage, rather than deter, littering. And expecting people to carry trash for hours or even days, with no lawful way to dispose of it, wouldn’t produce order; it would produce covert dumping. Bags would appear behind buildings, wedged beside bus stops, tucked under park benches. We know this because we’ve lived it as a country…

In the U.S., public sanitation grew out of necessity. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, cities were drowning in garbage: horse manure on streets, household garbage tossed from windows, outbreaks of cholera and typhoid tied directly to unsanitary conditions. The public bin wasn’t an aesthetic choice, it was a public-health intervention. Municipal trash collection, street sweeping, and waste-removal systems were designed to curb disease, prevent fires, reduce vermin, and keep rapidly growing cities livable.

Over time, this infrastructure became a social contract. You put your trash where it belongs, and the city takes it away. It works well and keeps the whole ecosystem functioning. That’s why a system like Japan’s, built on entirely different cultural norms can’t be copy-and-pasted here. A really thought provoking read though!

Claire Polders's avatar

Thanks for reading and adding your thoughts. I agree that systems work best in cultures where they were invented. But I do believe that cultures can change attitudes over time and can slowly adapt to new regulations that benefit everyone.

Brad Yonaka's avatar

Interesting problem! Ironically, there is a day in Japan every month where you can leave electronics and other large items in the street to be picked up for disposal or used someone else. But I suppose it doesn't include clothing. I was recently in South Korea and I noticed that people have to pay a tax to leave bulky items for disposal, and display the tax payment receipt on the bag(s).

My family and I have often have to shed items on long trips. Usually, because of the kinds of places we go to, people are eager to take everything.

Claire Polders's avatar

Yes, I'm used to leaving things at secondhand stores or donation centers. But not so in Osaka. I also remember that when you leave any garbage in Switzerland, you must add a prepaid sticker to the bag—you pay for each garbage bag you dump.

Erin, Nomad Life's avatar

Claire, I feel you in the post! I regularly donate clothes as I move regions and switch seasons.

If I can't find a spot on my own, I've resorted to asking my Airbnb host to donate (usually they are gracious about this inconvenience.) Sometimes, I leave for the cleaning crew with a note for them to feel free to take if useful.

Oftentimes, I leave the clothes clean & folded in a bag on a garbage bin for someone to find. One time, I even hung the items on hangers in a tree!

I think the real solution is the one you hit on: 🛑 Stop Buying. Your reframing of the issue has made me see that I'm simply making my problem someone else's.

Claire Polders's avatar

Thanks, Erin! It's not easy to stop buying when so many around us appear in "new" outfits all the time, but I do think it's better to only purchase what we need when we actually need it.

Erin, Nomad Life's avatar

Yes, for me it's a way of buying souvenirs - blouses in beautiful prints from West Africa, scarves from Morocco, Uzbek bags. 💕 I'm torn, especially when you live out of a carry-on and have so few things to begin with. It's hard for me to give them up, but I literally can't carry any more. 😔

Benthall Slow Travel's avatar

Claire, I loved this — the way you weave minimalism, ethics, and the absurdity of trying to do the right thing inside someone else’s system. Japan really does force you to reckon with the weight of your things, literally and spiritually.

Your line “Where’s the joy in storing something in a box?” hit me hard. We’ve been slow-traveling for the past couple of years, and every time we return home to our Houston base, the boxes feel heavier and less necessary. Your story just sharpened that lens even more for me.

And yes… I have so many Bali questions. I’m going to take you up on your offer once I actually write them down :)

Thanks for this thoughtful, funny, quietly radical piece. It stayed with me.

💛 Kelly