Snail mail in Russia--it'll slow ya down

Words 148

            I probably sound like a broken record, but the effort I am forced to put into running the sprint in less than a minute and one second is astronomical.  It's a welcome kind of hurt, though.  It makes me feel good for the rest of the day.

            Why did I choose 1 minute and one second as my cut off point?  Why not one minute?  I truly don't know, but I'm really glad.  Out of the last 13 sprints, 3 were < 1:00, 6 were < 1:01, and 4 were > 1:01.  So 9 out of the last 13 times I've run the mid-run sprint, I've had the luxury of sprinting up only 6 flights of stairs to our apartment--and not all 16 flights, and then sliding back down to the sixth floor.  I thought I was going to break 19 seconds for the final 6 flights.  Nope.

Snail Mail in Russia
Words 611,  some pictures

            Members of my family have floated a rumor that they sent me a package for Christmas.
This week’s Moscow News has a large story that explains why this package may not have arrived…yet.  The story begins with an anecdote about an Australian woman who was not allowed to send a notebook and a pencil in the same package.  When she asked why not, the clerk said, “Those are just the rules.”

            It’s a good article.  The article explains how the company that is responsible for delivering the packages announced that it would stop delivering packages because the backlog of packages waiting to be delivered reached 500 tons.  I guess I don’t understand, but I’m not sure how refusing to deliver packages when there is a huge backlog will help the situation.  Maybe the author meant that there are many packages waiting to be processed by customs—the article latter describes a spat between the customs officials and the postal workers. Here’s the link:  http://themoscownews.com/russia/20130429/191480715/Snail-mail.html

Below, I copied the first few paragraphs and some pictures that are not online, but in the hardcopy.

            I came up against such unreasonable devotion to rigidity the other day when I entered the International Center.  The building has such companies at the BBC, a French library, the American Center, etc.  As I scanned my badge, the woman behind the counter said, “You cannot take in that newspaper (the one that was sticking out of a pocket of my bag).” 

            “Why not?”

            “Does he understand Russian?” she asked my friend.  I guess my accent is terrible, or she didn’t believe that I had understood her and that I had responded to her in Russian. 

            “I understand,” I said, “Please give me a logical reason why.”  After all, it’s not like they sell newspapers upstairs.  It’s not like the paper cost more than 0 rubles.  I cannot for the life of me, understand why she would think the rules say that newspapers are not allowed. 

            I can understand a little bit why the policeman wouldn’t allow me to cross under the street—30 minutes later, there was a parade coming.  Maybe he thought I would go down there and leave my nefarious-looking backpack.  I think a better use of manpower may have been to use 3 of the 12 men at the top of the 4 entrances to watch what people do INSIDE the tunnel and disallow them to leave anything there…and to prevent them from placing hazardous materials drilled into holes in the street. (I’m trying to use words that will not get my blog post flagged as dangerous)

            She looked at me sadly as if I were a wayward puppy.

            I turned around, bent down, stuffed the paper inside a pocket, zipped it shut and walked through the suspicious contraband detector. 

            Across from this woman sits another guard of some kind—this one wears a uniform.  One day I was walking into the center when the guard called me out for having a bag of excess size. 

            “But I’ve come in with this bag before.”

            “We have rules that say you cannot take such a bag.”

            “But why is it too big today, when earlier it was not?”

            “Those are the rules.”

            “But when there are other people sitting there, it is not too big.”

            “I can’t answer for those people.  The rules are that you cannot take in a big bag.”  Luckily, I had an avoska (a nylon bag that rolls up into a tight ball), that I used to carry the most important items including my English lesson books and my computer.  I checked the backpack with my buddy, Asam, who takes the coats.

The first page

I didn't resize this one so someone might be able to recognize the package that was sent.

Hand cancelling takes awhile.