英国《泰晤士报》7月8日载文《北京：这次垃圾革命不会持久》(Beijing: this rubbish revolution won't be permanent，作者Jane Macartney)，摘要如下：

中国正一门心思地想在游客面前保持脸面。奥运会的举办意味着即使后街小巷也不能出现垃圾。在主干道两旁高大的水泥建筑背后，传统狭小庭院避开了这轮建设热潮，却避不开干涉之手。

　　在仅仅能容纳一辆小汽车宽度的小巷中收集垃圾幷不是件容易事。居民们也不可能一直走到小巷尽头，再将手中的鶏骨头、白菜叶、剩面条等倒入大垃圾箱内。于是就将垃圾倒在特别指定的、人人都知道的角落。每到早晨，这些垃圾通常会堆到2至3英尺高。区政府的垃圾清理员每隔几小时就会骑着一辆带有大金属箱的三轮车而来。随着尖锐的刹车声，他停下来，挥舞铁铲，一会工夫这些垃圾就不见了。

这个体系已顺畅运行了几十年或许上百年。这幷非免费，居委会每年都会向每户收取27元钱。我曾建议他们提供一个垃圾筐，这样既美观又卫生。但居委会的工作人员盯着我看了看，回答说:“没有。”

　　然而，因为奥运会的到来，这一切都将发生改变。胡同正在经历一场垃圾革命。

　　带轮的垃圾箱已经出现，三轮车也被电瓶车所代替。随之而来的还有一些规定。社区给居民们发放了奥运手册，要求不要把垃圾扔到排水沟中。我不知道这里的居民将如何适应这个规定，他们已经习惯了将剩面条扔到下水道井盖上，那上面可比滑板要滑得多。

　　规定还要求居民不要坐在自行车道和汽车道上，或在上面闲逛、嬉戏。这是否意味着北京夏天最壮观的景象——中年男子拿着大马扎坐在路中间，穿着露肚皮的背心打扑克的场景会就此终结呢？与此同时，规定还禁止人们将难看的东西挂在窗户外或阳台上。看来，我们不用再穿梭于搭着睡衣和内衣的晾衣绳之间了。

　　有件事情可以肯定。一旦奥运会结束，带轮子的垃圾箱就会被偷走，打扑克的人群将再次出现。中国人一直为自己的五千年历史而自豪，那些旧习惯同样很难消失。

Beijing is obsessed with saving face in front of visitors. And in the run-up to the Olympics, that means, even down the backstreets, that garbage must vanish. Behind the concrete monstrosities lining the main roads, tiny warrens of ancient courtyard homes have eluded the building boom. But even here, the finger of bureaucratic interference is now making a mark.

So the question I had to ask myself this week was: what happened to the garbage? Collecting rubbish down narrow lanes barely wide enough for a car - let alone a rubbish lorry - is not easy. And residents can't just stroll to the end of the street and empty their chicken bones, cabbage leaves and uneaten noodles into a large communal bin. They just doesn't exist.

The answer is to take the eggshells and ashes and toss them out on a corner. But not just any corner. These are designated, and everyone knows which one. By morning the pile is two to three feet high. Every couple of hours, the district government rubbish collector pedals by on his tricycle with a capacious metal bin. With a screeching of brakes - no one bothers with bicycle oil in Beijing - he pulls up, wields his shovel and the mess disappears for a while.

It's a system that's worked well for decades, perhaps even for centuries. It's not free, however. Once a year the neighbourhood committee knocks on doors and requests 27 yuan (£2) from each household. I once suggested that they provide a basket for the rubbish - as much for reasons of aesthetics as of hygiene. The committee members just stared. No basket.

Bottom of Form

But all that has changed because of the Olympics. The alleys - hutongs - have undergone a garbage revolution. Wheelie bins have appeared and the tricycles have been replaced by zippy electric carts. The whole transformation comes with instructions. Neighbourhood busybodies have been handing out Olympic handbooks to residents. Don't throw rubbish in the gutter. I wonder how the local tailor, whose habit is to toss his leftover noodles on to a sewerage grate, will adapt. No skateboards, rollerskates or anything that glides. No sitting, hanging out or frolicking in car or bicycle lanes. Does this mean the end of one of the great sights of a Beijing summer, middle-aged men sitting in the middle of the road on fold-up stools around a folding table, playing cards with their singlets rolled fetchingly over their bellies? Then there's a ban on hanging anything unsightly outside windows or on balconies. The demise of the washing line with its pyjamas and capacious underpants is upon us.

One thing is certain. As soon as the Olympics are over, the wheelie bins will be purloined and the card players will reappear. The Chinese are proud of their 5,000 years of history and old habits die hard.