Queue in the News/Help the Captain

As things have started to move again here at Standinaqueue, I think it would be best to give you all a quick roundup of some of the emails that have appeared in my inbox over the past couple of months.

The first was an email in the beginning of May from Rhodri Marsden, who writes for the Guardian, Observer and whatnot. It seemed that queuing was fashionable in the media for a short time in Blighty and he was interested to get in touch about an article that he was to write for The Independent.

Unfortunately it was too late when I found his email, but that shouldn’t stop you all from having a read. It is actually a rather brilliant and well informed article, which I would love to post here on Standinaqueue, but I do worry that there may be a problem with copyright. Maybe I should pop Rhodri an email and ask.

The second email of interest is from a man called Tony who wants to place an advert on this post here. He says that he will pay me $25 for a year and, for those who are interested, his website sells kitchens.

The next email is actually rather important and I was hoping that somebody out there may be able to help. It is an email from Captain P.T.C. Bush who mistook the standinaqueue email address for that of Leicester Post Office.

He writes:

Hello Leicester Post Office

I have been away from the UK for thirty years and I need to locate the address of:

Either Mrs. Elizabeth Ethel Luce or Mrs. Elizabeth Ethel Bush, who lives somewhere in Leicestershire. Having lost touch with her I am now retired and wish to correspond to her as her long lost friend.

I appreciate this may inconvenience you but this is very important and I would be very grateful to you if you will assist.

Best regards,

Captain P.T.C. Bush

Now I tried both www.192.com and www.thephonebook.bt.com but to no success, however maybe somebody out there may know this lady and if so they should get in touch or, if you want to be terribly kind, maybe you could publish his letter on your own blog and together we will find Elizabeth. All other ideas on how to find this lady are most welcome.

Nakumatt Supermarket, Mombasa, Kenya

Last month, after increased rebel activity in Eastern Congo, it seemed a good idea to take a break. Rather excitingly I found myself on the coast of Kenya, even more exciting however was that I found myself next to the supermarket Nakumatt, pictured here in all its capitalist glory.

After spending many an hour wandering, and indeed wondering over the many aisles and goods that were on perfect display, these visits were ended by the obligatory wait at the checkout queue.

I would estimate that 8 out of 10 of these queue standings would be unremarkable if compared to an English queue. They probably weren’t as fast moving as their English counterpart, but I didn’t really notice as I myself am now hardly ever in a hurry.

However, I would like to bring to your attention a couple of factors that could create a problem for the potential queuing visitor in Kenya.

The first problem is large Indian families. On more than one occasion I noticed that, rather than queuing, they tend to gather in the queuing area behind many queues, thus increasing their chances of being served faster.

We have seen similar behaviour in England, although never before attempted by a large extended group where such characteristics are also encouraged in the very young.

There may still be hope for this young lad however, notice the pensive, even hesitant stance that he has adopted in the queuing area. His elders were not so shy and with brusque confidence they took their positions across two and a half supermarket checkout queues.

The second factor to look our for when shopping in Nakumatt, Mombasa, is the rogue shopping basket. It is actually something to look out for from the very start of your shopping experience as you will never find one near the shop entrance. Instead you will be in competition with your fellow shoppers, hopeful to find a basket before you reach the dried pasta or, and I do not wish this even on my worse enemies, the bottled water. But let me not digress, I can already hear Gary Wood shouting “The queue William, what about the queue?” And yes, my dear Gary, the queue indeed.

Well, as the shopping basket has become such a sacred, sought after object in this temple of consumerism, it is only natural that those who have it, flaunt it.

And so here you can see this chap, like a child with a new umbrella, he has not put the basket to its proper use and is instead spinning it nonchalantly, while he holds his soon to be purchased toothpaste and bag of three onions in his other hand.

Not only is this a hazard when standing behind him, the real obstacle to my queuing experience occurs when he decides to leave the basket on the floor of the queuing area.

As you can imagine, I found myself in the uncomfortable position of wondering whether I should just step around the basket as if it was a normal occurrence, or, bring attention to this faux-pas by moving the basket myself to its correct position under the conveyor belt.

Luckily for both of us, after a few hesitant moments the basket was snatched up by a small girl sent in to the queuing area by her older sister, who was standing nearby with her arms laden with bread, powdered milk and cassava.

Ancestor Day in Zhongdian, Yunnan, China

This city, small by Chinese standards, used to be called Gyalthang by the Tibetans. It’s in the Tibetan cultural area. It was then called Zhongdian by the Han Chinese until central government recently decided they would call it Shangrila, from James Hilton’s book. They did this to attract tourists. High on the Himalayan Plateau at 3,200 meters it lies on the old pack-horse route from southern Yunnan to Lhasa.

These guys are queuing up to enter a cemetery. This was taken in early April, on the Thursday before Easter. Next to the Tibetan Cafe Hotel in Zhongdian is this Martyrs Cemetery. On “Ancestors Day” every school child, policeman and military conscript in this small city turned up to clean and tidy the graveyard and make an offering at each tomb. I think most of the tombs were from the early days of the revolution. There was a huge monument with a Red Guard style statue atop against which they placed these decorative devices.

A military unit queuing up before the monument waiting to place their offering. Just as I took this shot the General standing on the wall turned around and caught me with raised camera.  He said something in Chinese that I did not fully understand. After using my two words of Chinese that I know, to translate what he said, I came up with “If you take any more pictures you will be transported to the Mongolian salt mines.” At least that’s what it sounded like. Apparently photographing military personnel is strictly forbidden in China. I smiled weakly, started whistling and walked briskly away towards Lhasa.

Ticket Office, Long Distance Bus Station, Guangzhou, China

As promised, here is Laurence of Australia’s latest most recent queue posting. I have divided his queue story into three separate posts, with the next installment on Tuesday and the last on Wednesday.

Apologies again for my tardiness. I will try not to let it happen again.

Now over to Laurence:

G’day Standinginaqueue

I had hoped to win a certificate for the remotest queue but since certain people are globe trotting around deepest Africa it’s unlikely to be awarded to me. I have been doing a bit of globe trotting myself. A quick itinerary; Sydney (Australia), Guangzhou (China), Lijiang, Wenhai, Zhongdian, Lhasa (Tibet) and return, taking in Dali and Kunming on the way back to Sydney. It’s a great route to travel. A sort of backdoor entry into Tibet through the Eastern Himalayas via South West China. Most Westerners arrive in Tibet via Beijing and the new railway to Lhasa. I traveled by plane, truck, horse and bus. Anyway, to more serious matters…

My flight from Sydney into China stopped off for one night in Guangzhou, just north of Hong Kong. Having booked into the hotel, found my room, then hunted for the girl with the key, I sauntered outside into the street to see what life would offer.

They won’t let you have the key to your room. There is a young girl on each floor who lets you into it and who is always missing when you return. Perhaps they expect you to steal the bed when you book out.

A short distance from this China Southern Airways hotel, just past KFC, is a fairly large and busy bus station. Outside the people numbered millions. Inside I’m sure it was only thousands. It seemed like it. I didn’t stay long. I went in with half an idea about making a casual inquiry about something completely irrelevant. But life is so short I didn’t join any of the queues. I must say that the queues were extremely neat. Almost as if a surveyor had lined up the people with a theodolite. Outside it was absolute chaos.

Virunga National Park, DR Congo

Oh dear, oh dear. It seems I have some apologising to do.

The first apology being that this blog post will not exactly be about standing in queues. The second being that after a false restart in the beginning of May, this blog never really got going again, and for that, I am truly sorry.

You see, things got a little complicated here in Congo when, after nearby rebel activity, we all decided to get out for a bit. Our evacuation took me as far as Kenya and I even managed to take a delightful little break on the beach in Mombasa. I also, rather pleasingly, even managed to queue up while in Kenya and so have an interesting post about that which will be coming up shortly. However, it means that ever since coming back to Congo things have been rather hectic without a moment’s pause.

It’s not all bad though, as I have been lucky enough to see these fellas who were pretty much in a line when I found them.

Although when it became the time for them to leave, I regret to inform you all that the gorilla at the end of the line pushed his way through first.

But enough of the distractions, I do believe that I owe one rather big apology to Laurence of Australia, who sent me a queue story more than two months ago and yet in that time I failed to post it up on Standinaqueue.

My dear Laurence ran out of patience and posted it himself here, although tomorrow I will be posting his story where it truly belongs, here on Standinaqueue.

It’s been a while since I’ve checked the Standinaqueue inbox and I see that there are various other stories that have been sent in by your good selves, and I promise that they too will be coming up in the next week.