Getting used to the traditions and customs of my new planet makes me feel as though I only hatched out of my egg when the spaceship landed at the Row of Heaths. It’s a bit like relearning everything I know. Yes, they do speak the same language, which is very useful for reading signs and communicating the most basic of needs. But actually, once I have lived here for a while, I discover that this is not the reality of it.
Coming from a planet where the Ruling Powers That Be are known far across the vast plains for their inefficiency, where it takes a month for a communication transcript to get from one side of any big metropolis to the other if it gets there at all, and where rules and laws can be bent, mutilated or broken to accommodate each different situation, living on the New Planet can be quite a daunting experience.
Imagine my wonderment on discovering that I can dispatch an epistle today and my friend on the other side of the planet will receive it tomorrow (except for this particular cyberspace epistle which will arrive instantly at the southernmost colony and all points north, west and east). Of course there are exceptions to the rule, but for the main part, I am still taken aback at the precision of the postal service here. And with the Yuletide season approaching at what seems to be a turbo-charged sprint, I am most grateful for this wonderment....despite the fact that the purveyors of said post have voted to spend their time during this period warming their feet by the fire instead of making the Yuletide deliveries!
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