Post Office

To coincide with the subject of this post, a 'letter format' will hereby be adopted:

 Dear beloved fellow Malaysian,

how r u? hope dis finds u well.

As you make your way into the premises of a Malaysian post office to get your hands on a 1Malaysiana First Day Cover, or if you would like to inquire about postal voting (or simply, if you're really that slow: registering to vote) be greeted with bouquets of polyester flowers that smell like dust and stale air conditioning.

Lean over the counter after you hear your number being called by that monotonous voice: DUA SEMBILAN KOSONG LIMA, and say, Selamat Petang cik, bolehkah saya dibantu?

On your left, in that glass cabinet, some travel memorabilia. Perhaps a Doreamon, a Hello Kitty (all pirated).

In front of you, beyond the Civil Servant woman in the oversized indigo mens jacket, admire the rulers of the country in gold-framed posters. Yellow is always a good colour to spot, should you have trouble looking for these dignitaries.

Or are you too caught up with interpreting the hand written placards, notices on whiteboards or maybe torn cardboard boxes, the empty shells of bulk stationery purchases?

Don't you feel like tearing out the A4 print-out notices as well - a very satisfying sound of the sharp pulp tearing apart from fingerprint-stained white plaster walls...

Speaking of fingers, after you have purchased your stamps (paddy, a certain amount of sens... mangosteens, more expensive ones [to send a pirated DVD to your loved one in Gemas?], a bunch of rambutans, RM0.40...) - you have two options to paste it onto your envelope: simply lick it or if you prefer a more hygenic option, dab it on the sponge on that shellac-stained rubberwood table near the entrance, the one the with lots of sticker residues yes, and yes, that sponge that is almost blackened, dampened by what looks like some thinly diluted Chinese ink...


Sincerely yours,

MADAME UGLY MALAYSIANA.