Tuesday, February 17, 2009
On Her Majesty's Secret Postal Service
A lonely outpost of Empire
Near our old apartment next to Place Gutenberg is a bizarre relic of unknown provenance: a bright red metal postbox from Great Britain, complete with Queen Elizabeth's monogram stamped on the lower part. Adding to the mystery, there is a notice of what appear to be active postal pick-up times written in French.
Now, Strasbourg's vocation as the soi disant Capital of Europe mean there are an awful lot of Brits here, but I think even the Royal Mail would find it hard to justify daily pick-up a thousand kilometers away from British soil. I can't even begin to imagine who I might ask to explain the box's presence here, but my curiosity would not let the matter rest.
And so, armed with a postcard I was given at a local restaurant (there's a story there too) and a local stamp, I ventured forth to answer at least part of this enigma.
I think I look ridiculous in this photo, but Amynah thinks it's hilarious, and so, amusing her being more important to me than my dignity, I post it here for you.
If the postal pick-up times on the box are to be believed, I should receive a postcard from myself by the end of the week. I'll let you know how it goes.