This community compost bin is in a little park down the street from my house and directly on my way to Machon Schechter. When Alan found out about it, he was somewhat incredulous that I wasn't taking my compostables there. Turns out that a partner's incredulity can sometimes be a decent motivating tool: I have been bringing my scraps and peels and whatnot to the bin ever since. This morning I combined a trip to the compost bin with my stop at the cafe for challah and coffee (my favorite challah here comes from the bakery/coffeeshop around the corner from me where I am something of a regular).
As I walked into the little park, I noticed an older gentleman seemingly hanging around by the compost bin. He was all bundled up and looked as if he might be...loitering. I realized that I was feeling somewhat unsafe. While street crime, in the sense of muggings and the like, is all but unheard of in Jerusalem, verbal sexual harrassment is much much more common than anywhere else I've ever lived. I haven't encountered anything truly horrendous; it's more of a constant quiet buzz of comments which distracts me from going about my business.
Because of this, I was none too pleased about moving toward the compost bin with my little plastic bag, but I didn't want to throw it in the regular trash or bring its steamy organic contents into the coffee shop. So, I kept going toward the bin and when I passed the bundled-up man he nodded and said slowly, "כל הכבוד/kol ha'kavod" (Literally "all the honor," this phrase is used to mean "Good job" or "Good for you!").
It was deeply refreshing!