Our Postman

I wonder if you find today's post funny. The postman here rides a red (maybe orange or yellow sometimes) Honda motorcyle on the sidewalk. He (I have never seen a she) wears fluoro orange clothes, including pants, jacket or vest, and a hat with a skirt around the neck for full sun protection. He throws the mail in the mail box with the skill of a bowler launching the ball right against the pins. Maybe this is not a good comparison, because although he hits the mailbox slot, most of the time half of the mail remains hanging outside the box, getting soaked in the frequent rains. I had so many important tax documents and magazines dripping wet and with messy ink splotches that I contemplated writing a little note to the mailman kindly asking him to push the mail all the way inside the box. But since he never stops and never takes any mail that I may want to send, I am sure he would not slow down to read a note... Yes, I remember the cute red flag American people put up on their mailbox when they want the mailman to pick up post. No such service here. And no mail service on Saturdays. Plus no mail forwarding beyond a month after you move, even if the Post charges a nice fee for this service. I played ping-pong for over two years with all kinds of government agencies who were sending mail to the person who rented this house before us, but didn't update her details with them (maybe she didn't want to). So I returned all mail to senders without even the help of the postman, who of course, never stopped to pick up anything from me. I felt as if I worked for the post, because since they do not offer the forwarding service and I had to return the mail to senders, I filled in for the mailman. I only didn't deliver this mail to the door of the senders. FULL STOP Today's picture is that of a tropical plant, the Indonesian wax ginger, which I took on our trip to Darwin.