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In 1994, my wife and I went on a Scandinavian cruise that included St. Petersburg, Russia. Our best friends at that time had been to Russia a year earlier and had sponsored a student to come to the US to study music composition. They wanted me to give a package to the student's mother, Mira. It contained mostly clothing but also a substantial amount of Russian currency. We tried to call Mira from our ship but couldn't understand a word she said, so we asked a Russian dancer from the entertainment ensemble if she would translate for us. That worked out well, but the cost for the two satellite phone calls we made was outrageous.
We told her the approximate times for our excursions the next day, and Mira told us that she would be outside the gates of the docking area when we got back from visiting some palaces. She would be wearing a red dress. It was misty when we arrived at the appointed place and late in the afternoon. Sure enough, we saw Mira in her red dress and told the bus driver we had to get off. He was very reluctant because we were still a long way from the ship and in a dangerous neighborhood.
So we gave Mira our friend's gift to her. We were so relieved because we had been quite worried that we might get into trouble for our efforts. We were very dismayed when she turned around and gave us another package to take back to our friends! Nonetheless, we were glad to have met her, and after a short, awkward visit complicated by a major language barrier, we headed back through the mist for about a mile and a half walk. There were taxies at the gate but we had been told not to use taxies because they were all run by the mafia and we might be held for ransom. The deserted warehouses we walked past were very ominous.
We were now worried that there might be customs officials that we would have to go through to get onto the ship, and we had no idea what was in Mira's package. There was no one monitoring our boarding, so everything worked out well.
Mrs. Pessimist, who is usually an optimist, was greatly relieved.
Discussion (12)
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So what was in Mira’s package?
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"Your papers, please?"
Your courier experience and spycraft do you credit for toting that package such a distance, not to mention including it with your luggage.
Still, don't go to Pyongyang a year after your friends.
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The soul of Marsellus Wallace, obvs.
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Maybe it wasn't so much espionage, but just money-laundering.
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Well, you are right about that but it felt like espionage, even down to the lady in red. Mira's package back to my friends was some sort of needle point art.
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