Greetings

24. Greetings from America (Aug '07)

I have landed safely in the New World. One of my first observations upon disembarking on these shores is the strange nature of the inhabitants. These people have peculiar customs and wear outlandish dress, and they speak in a queer tongue. I offered them some beads, but they weren't impressed. One of them said something that sounded like "Get back in the line, ma'am." They seem to have become more suspicious of outsiders since Columbus.

Gradually, I wended my way through the barriers they had erected. They seem to be attempting to thwart invasion of their land by using velveteen ropes and special "conveyor belts" that literally move the ground in an opposing direction (it is a feeble defense, however. I found that I could easily overcome the backward motion of these belts, and progress forwards. The people who were being shunted away from the citadel -- ie. towards me -- by these contraptions were not pleased to see my triumph, however. They glared at me as I strode forward, pushing my way between them).

I found that beads may be unwelcome, but the natives have an almost unnatural obsession with paper. I merely had to demonstrate my possession of paper to them, and they would scruntinize its surface, as if they were trying to fathom its miraculous nature by the marks found upon it. And after a short while they would give it back and wave me through, so awed with my possession of this magical substance that they didn't dare keep it. My progress became swift and straightforward. I hit an obstacle, however, at the Agri Cult Ural station. To my perplexity, it had nothing to do with religious sects, mountain ranges, or intense hostility. Well, perhaps there was some hostility. The man demanded to see what I was carrying in my bags -- a petty attempt at piflering my paper, I presumed. But no, he grabbed an uneaten sandwich between his be-gloved fingertips, pawed through its contents with a contemptuous, upturned nose, and then dropped it in a bright red container with something akin to "Hazardous Waste" printed on its side. I had no idea that my sandwich was such a threat to health and safety. I am eternally grateful to him for saving me from the danger of having ingested it. With a suspicious narrowing of his eyes, he allowed me to pass, and my further progess towards free exploration of this country was unhindered.

May your days be full of joy and free from bureaucracy,
Andrea :)

Andrea Blumberg