Sarah Lee

I’ve always been a terrible driver, so it’s nice to know that traveling by foot is not only better for the safety of myself and others, but for the environment as well. Since relying more on walking or other muscle-powered transportation, I’ve noticed a meaningful shift in how I engage with my community. When I drive, I’m focused on the destination—how fast I can get there, how terrible LA drivers are, where to park, how to avoid traffic. But when I walk or bike, I notice things I never would behind a windshield: street murals, neighborhood gardens, sidewalk chalk, the sound of birds, or even just the changing colors of the trees marking the transition of spring into summer. I feel more present, more grounded, and more connected to the people and places around me. Even walking to class instead of driving to campus has made me appreciate UCLA’s buildings more, especially in my last quarter here. Walking has made me feel like I belong to my neighborhood, not just passing through it. I’ve discovered small businesses I didn’t know existed and have even had casual conversations with dog owners bringing their adorable golden retrievers out and about—something that never happens when I’m in a car. Most days, my walk to class is the only exercise I’ll get, so intentionally taking the time to walk instead of drive has been better for my health. Public transit is a different kind of experience. It requires more patience and isn’t always as enjoyable as being in nature outside, but it’s a very convenient alternative when it’s too hot to walk. I wish LA had cleaner transportation like in Japan, or quicker alternatives that are available in the bay or UCSD, but the bus system is usually reliable enough for now.

Practicing the “5 Rs”—refuse, reduce, reuse, repurpose, and recycle—helped me realize that recycling should actually be the last step in the waste-reduction process, not the first. Before this, I always thought I was doing my part by tossing items into the blue bin. But recycling, while important, doesn’t address the root problem: overconsumption and the endless production of disposable goods. While researching plastic for my research project, I learned that most plastic is not actually recycled; it’s usually pushed out from landfills and dumped into lower-income countries. Mixed plastics also make it very hard for plastic to be sorted correctly so that it can be reused in the first place. The first R, refuse, was both the most straightforward to apply. Saying no to plastic utensils, straws, or free promotional items required me to be more mindful and assertive, but it was easy as long as there was an alternative. However, there are definitely situations where you have no choice but to use some sort of plastic. When I buy bread at the grocery store, it’s going to come in a plastic bag regardless of what I choose. Reduce challenged me to examine what I was buying in the first place. I started asking myself: Do I really need this? Is there a lower-waste version? Should I really be eating another bag of chips anyways? Reuse and repurpose allowed me to get creative. I’ve always repurposed old jars as storage containers (my fridge currently has my overnight oats stored in a tomato sauce jar), cut up worn-out clothes into rags, and reused packaging from online orders as trash liners. Granted, I originally shifted into these habits to save money, but they help the environment as well.

When I completed my personal plastics audit for my research project, I was shocked by how prevalent it was. Plastic wasn’t just in the obvious places like food packaging or takeout containers. It was in my shampoo bottles, my toothbrush, my phone case, my pens, my snack wrappers, even the little seal on my oat milk carton. The hardest item for me to reduce was food packaging, especially when it came to snacks. I am notoriously bad at meal prepping and I’m always running late in the morning, so I rely heavily on quick, packaged items like granola bars, trail mix, and instant noodles. I tried cutting them out entirely for a week and immediately realized how unprepared I was. Fresh produce and bulk items from the store helped, but they weren’t always as convenient or long-lasting. I also live in an apartment without a car, so shopping frequently and carrying jars just wasn’t realistic all the time. I tried reducing my single-use plastics by bringing my own bags for produce, buying in bulk, and portioning out dry goods myself in reusable containers instead of relying on companies to do it with their own plastic packaging. I also started making simple, easily-transportable snacks at home—like roasted chickpeas or granola clusters—and storing them in reusable containers. While this didn’t completely eliminate packaged foods, it significantly cut down on how many plastic wrappers I was tossing away each week. I also struggled with plastic bathroom products. Shampoo bottles, toothpaste tubes, and floss all seemed unavoidable. I’ve started using soap bars more recently since they’re travel friendly, but I still need to do research on brands that have good shampoo bars that don’t make my hair feel like straw or toothpaste tablets. Cutting out plastic isn’t always feasible when picking between option A and option B is just picking the lesser of two evils, but reducing it is possible with intention and creativity. I’ve realized that reducing my impact required me to rethink convenience, plan ahead, and accept that change takes time.

Before reading this EcoChallenge, I wasn’t even aware of what hydrofluorocarbons (HFCs) were. After researching online, I’ve learned that HFCs are greenhouse gases that trap heat in the atmosphere thousands of times more effectively than carbon dioxide, and are widely used in refrigeration, air conditioning, and aerosols. It was honestly discouraging to realize that man-made appliances designed to cool us down are ironically accelerating global warming. Using the website climatefriendlysupermarkets.org, I checked for climate-friendly supermarkets near my apartment. There were no rankings listed for stores in Westwood, but it was interesting to see how stores within the same grocery chain varied in their use of HFCs. I was surprised to learn that even stores like Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s, which I tend to associate with environmentally conscious branding, had inconsistent scores depending on the location. Ralph’s was pretty consistently ranked as “HFCs or HCFCs are the only refrigerants used,” which is unfortunately where I usually shop for groceries at UCLA. Aldi, a grocery store I’ve never heard of, was very widely rated as HFC-Free.

While dishing out food, it's easy to overestimate how much I’ll actually eat--my eyes are often bigger than my stomach. Last week, I made a conscious effort to cook smaller meals and portion out leftovers for the rest of the week. I noticed that I’m more comfortable setting food aside for later when I plan ahead, rather than trying to save what's left over from a half-eaten plate. There’s something unappealing about mixing “eaten” leftovers with untouched food, so I usually end up being uncomfortably full after forcing myself to finish the last few bites of my meal. After taking a moment to stop and reflect, I’ve realized that the best way to avoid this is by serving myself a small amount first. That way, if I’m still hungry, I can always go back for seconds, rather than scraping uneaten food into storage containers. Beyond waste reduction, smaller portions have helped me feel more in tune with my body's hunger cues. I find myself feeling more satisfied and less bloated, and I’m more likely to enjoy my meals without overeating.

Pictured below: me putting my new habits into practice with a (reasonable) serving of homemade chicken udon!