Sometime in the early 1960s, a significant thing happened in Sydney, Australia. The city discovered its harbor. Then, one after another, Sydney discovered tots of things that were just sort of there-broad parks, superb beaches, and a culturally diverse population. But it is the harbor that makes the city.

Andrew Reynolds, a cheerful fellow in his early 30s, pilots Sydney ferryboats for a living. I spent the whole morning shuttling back and forth across the harbor. After our third run Andrew shut down the engine, and we went our separate ways-he for a lunch break, I to explore the city.

"I'll miss these old boats," he said as we parted.

"How do you mean?" I asked.

"Oh, they're replacing them with catamarans. Catamarans are faster, but they're not so elegant, and they're not fun to pilot. Hut that's progress, I guess."

Everywhere in Sydney these days, change and progress are the watchwords（口号）, and traditions are increasingly rare. Shirley Fitzgerald, the city's official historian, told me that in its rush to modernity in the 1970s, Sydney swept aside much of its past, including many of its finest buildings. "Sydney is confused about itself," she said. "We can't seem to make up our minds whether we want a modern city or a traditional one. It's a conflict that we aren't getting any better at resolving（解决）.”

On the other hand, being young and old at the same time has its attractions. I considered this when I met a thoughtful young businessman named Anthony. "Many people say that we lack culture in this country," he told me. "What people forget is that the Italians, when they came to Australia, brought 2000 years of their culture, the Greeks some 3000 years, and the Chinese more still. We've got a foundation built on ancient cultures but with a drive and dynamism of a young country. It's a pretty hard combination to beat."

He is right, but I can't help wishing they would keep those old ferries.

Like most of us, I try to be mindful of food that goes to waste. The arugula (芝麻菜) was to make a nice green salad, rounding out a roast chicken dinner. But I ended up working late. Then friends called with a dinner invitation. I stuck the chicken in the freezer. But as days passed, the arugula went bad. Even worse, I had unthinkingly bought way too much; I could have made six salads with what I threw out.

In a world where nearly 800 million people a year go hungry, "food waste goes against the moral grain," as Elizabeth Royte writes in this month's cover story. It's jaw-dropping how much perfectly good food is thrown away — from "ugly" (but quite cat able) vegetables rejected by grocers to large amounts of uneaten dishes thrown into restaurant garbage cans.

Producing food that no one eats wastes the water, fuel, and other resources used to grow it. That makes food waste an environmental problem. In fact, Royte writes," if food waste were a country, it would be the third largest producer of greenhouse gases in the world. "

If that's hard to understand, let's keep it as simple as the arugula at the back of my refrigerator. Mike Curtin sees my arugula story all the time — but for him, it's more like 12 boxes of donated strawberries nearing their last days. Curtin is CEO of DC Central Kitchen in Washington. D.C., which recovers food and turns it into healthy meals. Last year it recovered more than 807, 500 pounds of food by taking donations and collecting blemished (有瑕疵的) produce that otherwise would have rotted infields. And the strawberries? Volunteers will wash, cut, and freeze or dry them for use in meals down the road.

Such methods seem obvious, yet so often we just don't think. "Everyone can play a part in reducing waste, whether by not purchasing more food than necessary in your weekly shopping or by asking restaurants to not include the side dish you won't eat." Curtin says.

For nearly a decade now, Merebeth has been a self-employed pet transport specialist. Her pet transport job was born of the financial crisis (危机) in the late 2000s. The downturn hit the real estate (房地产) firm where she had worked for ten years as an office manager. The firm went broke and left her looking for a new job. One day, while driving near her home, she saw a dog wandering on the road, clearly lost She took it home, and her sister in Denver agreed to take it This was a loving home for sure, but 1. 600 miles away. It didn't take long for
Merebeth to decide to drive the dog there herself. It was her first road trip to her new job.

Merebeth's pet delivery service also satisfies her wanderlust. It has taken her to every state in the US except Montana Washington, and Oregon, she says proudly. If she wants to visit a new place, she will simply find a pet with transport needs there. She travels in all weathers. She has driven through 55 mph winds in Wyoming, heavy flooding and storms in Alabama and total whiteout conditions in Kansas.

This wanderlust is inherited from her father, she says. He moved their family from Canada to California when she was one year old, because he wanted them to explore a new place together As soon as she graduated from high school, she left home to live on Catalina Island off the Californian coast, away from her parents, where she enjoyed a life of sailing and off-road biking.

It turns out that pet transporting pays quite well at about $30, 000 per year before tax. She doesn't work in summer; as it would be unpleasantly hot for the animals in the car; even with air conditioning. As autumn comes, she gets restless-the same old wanderlust returning. It's a call she must heed alone, though. Merebeth says, "When I am on the road, I'm just in my own world. I've always been independent-spirited, and I just feel strongly that I mush help animals. "