Post Office Hell

Misery

I’ve never been a fan of going into banks or post offices. Entering them is like stepping into another dimension – one in which time operates at a tenth of the speed of life outside of their peculiar chronospheres.

Istanbul has turned that dislike into dread. Not only is the incredibly slow person already at the counter, as with every counter in every country (how do they do that?) but there is no discernible system for queueing and my social norms simply do not apply. These edifices of doom are perfect stress inducing machines.

Today, incredibly, there was only

Cultural Conundrums #1

In Istanbul, a huge land reclamation project is nearing completion. A section of the Marmara Sea is being replaced by a park. I crossed a six-lane highway to take a look. After the highway are a pavement and a sliproad and then a café. I walked around the back of the café. There were people sitting, under sunshades, enjoying the view. It comprised a large green area, trees, and beyond that the sea. I was very confused. Why?