Russian Calendar: First Official Work Day of 2014

Today, January 9th is the first black day of the new year on the Russian calendar. You see, January 7th is Russian Orthodox Christmas, thus an official day off or red day and the 8th is a buffer day of sorts. So for many, today was the first day back into usual work-a-day routine.

Margarita is tickled with her new calendar. (Click to enlarge photo.)

Speaking of calendars, they are my usual gift for the holidays so I'm self-proclaimed queen of calendars. The Bible League publishes attractive wall calendars with a Bible verse and scenic photograph for each month. These are available through a local Christian bookstore and the manager stocks a box of 50 calendars especially for me.They're perfect for sharing with church family, neighbors, friends and it's a gift that keeps on giving throughout the year with a fresh page each month.

Gotta love this calendar with the Kremlin clock tower.

Three-month calendars such as this are used in many offices with a view of the past month, present month and future. This calendar hangs on my office door and the early morning routine, when still I'm barely coherent, is to slide the red square over onto the new day.

Nice that the month and days are in English as well as Russian.

Here's a zoom in on this month. As you see, Sundays are considered the last day of the week. Although in my book, Sunday will always be the first day of the week.

Surrounded by horses. The very best ones have been snatched up already.

By the way, 2014 is the Year of the Horse, as per the Chinese horoscope. And so we're surrounded by horses fashioned from onyx, fabric, paper and ceramic.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not to your own understanding." Proverbs 3:5

We have hope: Whether it's the year of the dragon, the snake, the horse or the pig; whether the day is a red day or black, God is in His heaven and rules as King of kings and Lord of lords. Hallelujah, Amen!

Let's Go Shopping!

Say, care to join me for a morning shopping trip to Central Market? You know, I'm not into recreational shopping. To me, shopping is w-o-r-k. But add a colorful, cultural photo opportunity to the mix and I'm there. So off we go! This includes sound as well as sights because guess what - in recent days I've learned a thing or two about using the movie mode on my still-photo camera. Oh this is exciting. So come along. I think you'll enjoy standing with me on some steps overlooking part of the market.




How did you like that? What a contrast, eh? The magnificent cathedral and than the ordinary little shopping kiosks nearby.


Say, let's sashay on over to the vegetable department. The fresh produce - the bright peppers are so beautiful in August. This video is more a learning exercise than anything. Thought I should tell you that first. Just because.



Note to self: no need to be shrieking out orders to folks - Smile! Smile! - and various comments from behind the camera. See, this movie mode picks up sounds, and so learn to cut the chatter when shooting video. Anyway, the idea here is to get a taste of the interior of the market. And maybe another time I'll add subtitles to translate what's being said, but that's something for another lesson, another video. . .

Thank you for joining me dear friends! Trust you enjoyed our shopping trip as much as I did!

Cars Say the ( . . . . ) Funniest Things

Last week I happened upon a car with a message. It reminded me of Silence is Golden, a song from the 60's. You do remember that song. Don't you?

Rather than being golden, in this case Silence, the car would be. . . what color would you say that is? In real life, it was yellow with a few shakes of green. Not quite *leaf of celery yellow-green.* More *avocado pulp yellow-green* or *not quite ripe lemon green.* Whatever you call it, that's the color of the Silence tooling around the streets of Rostov-on-Don.


Oh, and then just outside my balcony window earlier this week, was a car with a message from the 40's.

That whitish car straight on out there, it has a special message. Care to zoom in closer?


Zooming, zooming. . .



Closer, closer. . .

It says To Berlin. Huh? The trusty Oxford Russian-English dictionary says it can be translated capture Berlin. I might have missed something, but I was thinking that that had already happened several, several decades back. Checked with my language teacher, Olga Michaelovna, who explained that at the end of WW2, military vehicles heading from Russia to Berlin had these words painted on the sides.

So the vehicle above might be 1940's vintage. Or it might belong to a person of that era. Or a WW2 buff might have been having fun. Or. . . what? All I know is that that vehicle is no longer parked outside this building. It may have gotten washed. Or it might be flying across Ukraine, across Poland heading toward eastern Germany.

But you didn't hear it from me. After all, Silence is golden, golden. But my eyes can see. . .Silence is golden, golden. But my eyes can see. . .

Have a Honey of a Year, with a Burger on the Side

Recently I went to Children's World in far north Rostov to pick up some things for the orphanage. Later, en route the McDonald's nearby, I happened upon a fellow selling honey on the street. Say care to join me for the excursion? How about I treat you to a Greek Mac for lunch - deal?


First, let me wish you and yours a honey of a new year. By that I mean a sweet and satisfying year rather than a sticky or high calorie year.



Our first stop is Children's World, a store of great appeal to children and especially to their parents, the ones who coming bearing rubles, after all. What a familiar scene this is, parents and kids heading into a store. This could be in Germany or Georgia or even Greater Cleveland.


Service was great in there and if anyone noticed my camera, they never let on. Let's zoom on in for a closer look at the welcome sign.



At the top, Children's World. And at the bottom, Welcome! They had child safety locks in stock, something that the orphanage needed. Service was great and I even managed some pictures of the toy bulls and oxen so popular now, as we begin the Year of the Ox.


Here's the south side of the building and a glimpse of apartment buildings in area.


But oh, here is the view straight south. Oh yeah, my beloved McDonald's. Happens that this one has a drive-through. But on the way, I ran into a Mr Honey.


We had a great conversation and he was happily obliged my need to photograph his jars from every possible angle. Eventually I asked if I could get a picture of him too. He declined but invited me to shoot a frame of honey comb that was in his trunk. So I got that, too.



In the plastic containers is honey in the comb. Favorite delicacy of our hero, John the Baptist. Oh my, I forgot to ask Mr Honey if per chance he had any wild locusts for sale. Still, the shades of gold and amber were beautiful. I asked him why the variety of color.



Color differs according to when the nectar was collected, he said. In the early spring, the bees are busy with fruit trees. Later they're all abuzz with the wildflowers. Mr Honey has hives throughout the area and has labeled jars with the village from which that honey was collected and/or the price in rubles. He's got this down to a fine art.


Moving right along, we come to McDonald's.

Say, ever had a Greek Mac? That's what's pictured above the building here.



And here's a very big, Big Mac, pronounced Beeg Maac - the Russian a is soft, as in father.


And our Greek Mac. These were introduced summer of 2004 when the Olympics were in Athens.

Well I got caught taking this picture. Photography is forbidden here, a manager made a beeline toward me from across the dining area. Her voice was loud and strident and her manner aggressive.

Your menu is just so interesting, I said. She wouldn't have understood anything about my responsibility to you, dear blog reader, had I mentioned that you want and need a glimpse of the menu.

Fortunately she smiled and that was the end of it. She didn't ask me to delete anything. Because if she had, well, I would have been tempted to adjust my lunch plans. . .


But first I managed to capture this sandwich for you, the Chicken Myth. Yummy, sounds Greek too, does it not?


Later that afternoon and out on the street, a large advertisement which covers the entire side of a building.

What jumped out at me was the word, American. Just today I spent some time clarifying this billboard and I must say that I don't expect that I'll be going there any time soon. It says American 'L' Pizza. At the bottom in white, Friendly 'L', then A network of beer sports bars.

Curious as I am about this so-called American L Pizza, think I've got plenty of other places to visit. For one thing, look what else is in the very same complex. . .

Can it be? Can it really be a Subway? Let's zoom on in for a closer look.


Sure enough, Subway sandwiches and salads.

Of Ice Cream, Bread. . . and Banking

Keeping you, dear blog readers, up-to-date with the latest billboards here in Rostov-on-Don is a responsibility that I take quite seriously. The billboard below is linked to the agricultural roots of the Rostov Region, where so much grain is grown.

You might remember this billboard - perhaps you made a note of it somewhere (perhaps not) - that SKB bank had earlier posted a billboard here featuring a pilot, a husband and easy credit. Both signs employ an charming style of art, let's call it Soviet-era nostalgia art. Care to join me for a closer look?

Oopsie, we lost our wheat girl. Well she'll be back around here in half-a-minute. Or so. . .

Oh good, here she is. . . and here's what she wants us to know. And memorize. You know these Russian folk are really into memorizing things.

Bread - (is) for the homeland.
For children - (there's) ice cream.

What's left - (is to)
deposit as an investment!
(Literally: for a percent of investment!)

Interest up to 14.5%.

Okay, you native speakers of Russian, we're looking to you to tweak this translation a bit. But anyway, we get the idea, don't we? For good credit, go to SKB Bank. Besides credit, they have bread and ice cream. All served up by Russian girls straight from the field. Or maybe not.

Trade Lacking: But Airlines Seem Confident

Trade between Russia and the U.S. is not reaching its potential declared U.S. Commerce Secretary, Carlos Gutierrez, recently in St Petersburg for an economic forum, according to Russia Today. His numbers show that U.S. firms have invested 12 times more capital in Russia than Russian companies have invested in the U.S.




But if two U.S.-based airlines have their way, there will be lots more traffic between the two countries. Until this month, Delta has been the only U.S. carrier with direct flights to Moscow. Just last week, American Airlines began flights from Chicago direct to Moscow, Monday through Saturday. Not to be outdone, United Airlines plans to fly from Washington D.C. direct to Moscow starting in October. It's safe to assume that Aeroflot, the Russian airline will continue flights.

Well dear blog reader, what is your airline of choice when traveling to Russia? (Note: Southwest Airlines is not one of the choices!) When you come to Russia, what airline do you prefer? How about stop-overs?

Jennifer Lopez Comes to Russia?

Walking along the street today I saw this sign and stopped abruptly.

WE ARE OPEN (in Russian), by Jennifer Lopez.


Take a giant step backward and here's that view. It's a clothing store and I almost got shots of the manniquins in the windows. But then somebody came to the door and seemed less than excited about the having the place photographed. Or maybe she wanted to be in the photo herself. Come to think of it, it might have been Jennifer Lopez in person. Maybe not. I'd say she's got plenty going on at home, having just birthed twins, it is reported.

Say, anybody have information about a JLo clothing store coming to Eastern Europe? I'm wondering if this is *the genuine deal* or something pirated -- as in without permission. Maybe I'll stop in there sometime and demand an explanation. No of course not, I'll just nicely ask for the story. But perhaps one of you dear blog readers can provide enlightenment.

Say, if a store carried YOUR name, what colors would you use? What would you sell? (just nice stuff okay?) and Would you consider coming to Rostov-on-Don? Please say DA!

PS: Thanks to Jeanette Morris for finding J.Lo Goes Global in People magazine (2004, March). So. . . this could be 4 real. Thank you Jeanette!

The Alphabet of Sleep: IKEA

IKEA poses the question, А КАК СПИТЕ ВЫ? That is, So how do you sleep? Clever little rhyming phrase at the bottom: There's an idea. There's IKEA.

So, which letter most resembles the way you sleep?

IKEA and More at Rostov-on-Don's New MEGA Center

Today I visited Rostov's new IKEA store. It opened Thanksgiving weekend. Nice to avoid the opening rush.

IKEA and several other stores are in the new MEGA center. It's a whole indoor shopping center. And it's here in Rostov. I'm thrilled to bits.

What I really have been needing are file folders. If there are file folders in Russia, it's a well kept secret. Pioneer woman that I am (hahah) I've taken to making them myself out of poster board. Our MEGA has an ice skating rink but no office supply store. Looks as though I'll continue to make file folders.


A MEGA employee allowed me to shoot her t-shirt. Here's the logo, it says MEGA: Shopping for the whole family.

I say that shopping is straight from English into Russian. But dear Sveta in Moscow and Ludmila the Linguist will insist that the word is originally Greek or German or something. And they would know!

MEGA has figured out all the angles, including transport from Rostov to the store. Since most of us rely on public transport, they're got free shuttle buses that run between the MEGA and Rostov center, which might be 20 kilometers away.

A SUBWAY food shop in Rostov. Oh, life is good. Also a Sbarro's Italian place. Oh boy oh boy.

How about you? Ever been to an IKEA store? Ever made your own file folders? Enjoy shopping? How about ice skating? Have you managed to find file folders in Russia?

Importing English: Signs on the Street

Hello from Rostov-on-Don. Care to join me for an afternoon stroll through the city center? Here are photos taken Sunday afternoon, shots of some Russian-English cognates, words pulled directly into one language from another. We've done this before together and it was fun. So let's get going...


On the sign above, Сити is lifted from English and its pronunciation approximates City. Translation: City Footwear. Oops, poor sign dropped a letter. Well, we know what it means. And besides that off to the left is posted another sign, that white one, that says the same thing. Footwear is like that though, isn't it. Sometimes things fall off. Such as heels. Oh boy have you ever had that happen?


If you drool just reading the sign, it's no wonder. It says Juice and that's exactly how it would be pronounced in Russian. This sign is in cursive font, so that's why the first letter is д rather than Д. In print it would be Джус. They have drinks and stuff there.


How about taking a Jaguar on a test drive? On the back door above, the last two words are test drive, тэст драйв, pronounced very close to the English. At the bottom, the same words are under the Jaguar emblem, but written in cursive. And so you see that the Russian letter T (formed same as in English), in cursive is written т. (Got that?) =)


Here is a ATM. At the top of the blue section, банкомат is bank-o-mat. At the bottom, you see something familiar, the number 24. I'm sooo glad that numbers are written basically the same. I mean, what if the idea of two were represented, say, by a star? Or four by a. . . smiley face? Oh my, oh my I shudder to think about translating number symbols. This says 24 hours , referring to the bankomat.


Well here's something quite familiar! Western Union doesn't even try to look Russian. Those folks who transfer funds, the things they get away with. Well, this says money transfers.


So thank you for join me on a little walk through town. Actually, these shots were taken along one street within three city blocks. So there's lots more! And...as always, a standing invitation to Sveta in Moscow - who blogs with her husband at Windows to Russia - to correct me on any of this! (And Sveta don't even try to persuade me that Test Drive comes from Greek rather than English! =)

What Would Condi Do?

Condoleezza Rice, U.S. Secretary of State with Victor Yushchenko, President of Ukraine. (Photo courtesy of Yahoo!)


One snowy afternoon in January, I took the tram across town to my former neighborhood and went to the post office to renew my P.O. box there. While waiting in line, I watched for the young clerk with whom I had butted heads almost two weeks earlier.

I would recognize her immediately. She was taller than average, streaky blond and loud. After finishing my business, I waited in the lobby area in hopes that she would come along. Sure enough, soon she emerged from a back room and strolled through the lobby, heading outside for a smoke.

As she came toward the door, I caught her eye.

I need to talk with you for a minute. Last time I was here, we had an unpleasant conversation and I was impatient with you. Forgive me please.

Oh it wasn’t all that bad, she shrugged.

That’s one thing I love about Russian folk. They’re so quick to forgive.

And that was that.

Back out on the street, I felt such relief.

That feeling was so different from how I’d felt ten days or so earlier after our confrontation. That day, I kept asking myself, how would Condoleezza Rice have handled all that?

That had been my third trip across town to renew said post office box. The first two times, one clerk or another said something like, Oh come back another day. It’s only 30 minutes until closing time and we really don’t want to haul out that paperwork again.

I probably said something such as, Well, it’s not all that easy for me to get here. I live in another neighborhood now and so it’s not as though I live around the corner.

But I did come back again the third time and was making progress. I waited dutifully in the fill-out-the-renewal form line and the clerk there – to her credit – went far beyond her duties, helping me with the paperwork. Next, in the pay-for-the-box line, when I got to the front, my progress came to a screeching halt.

You’ll need to come back another day. I’ve already put away that stuff. Come back tomorrow.

So I explained that we’ve been through this before and all this was quite unnecessary. That it really would not be hard to take my rubles, write me out a receipt and stamp it in five places to make all official as they’re wont to do here.

The clerk was pleasant enough but she shrugged and turned to the next person. During our conversation, a teenage clerk was standing at the other end of the service counter with a gaggle of her clerk buddies.

She’s American isn’t she? she asked just loud enough for all to hear.

Next time, I’ll just ignore that.

Yes I am. And at least in America there is decent customer service.

Next time, I'll direct my best withering gaze in her direction. (Note to self: Start practicing this look in the bathroom mirror.)

So there was a little back and forth between us there, mostly her laughing with her friends. As I started to leave, I decided it was time for some eyeball-to-eyeball conversation with the Miss Mouthy and headed in her direction. She saw me coming, let out a loud shriek of laughter and fled to the back room.

Is your friend okay? I asked her co-worker. Was she was laughing at me?

Oh of course she’s fine. No, of course she wasn’t laughing at you. We were laughing about. . . about something here in the newspaper. She motioned to the tabloid open there on the counter.

That’s a typical response. People can lie in a heartbeat, without blinking an eye.

So I left and felt pretty good about all that for about 30 seconds but then it dawned on me that I’m the first American many of the other customers have ever encountered. And while it may be true that most of them would have a complaint or two about customer service, I was uncomfortable with the tone of our conversation.

How would Condoleezza Rice have handled that? Her diplomacy and grace come to mind quite often. It doesn’t hurt that she specializes in Soviet studies and is said to speak fluent Russian.

* * * * *

We learn a lot about ourselves when immersed in another culture. We see how we handle stress of smashed expectations. We see how we deal with the frustration of communicating at a child’s level. Cross-cultural living is a magnificent growth opportunity. But only if we use it as such.

After an unpleasant incident, it’s important to mull it over, ruminate on it and analyze it. First, what happened? How did I feel about what happened? How did I respond to what happened? How will I handle it differently next time?

I have no control over the twerpy behavior of a 17-year-old postal worker. But I do have control over myself. As long as there aren’t any sweets involved, that is. I can choose to ignore a verbal jab. Or I can respond with humor.

So, let’s rewind the whole scene.

She’s an American, isn’t she?

You’re close. Actually I’m from Antarctica. And believe me, your customer service here is far superior.

Who knows, Condoleezza Rice might be so impressed with such diplomacy that, in an historic move, she would appoint me first U.S. Ambassador to Antarctica. No lines and no waiting for that job!

A is for Abacus

Although calculators have largely replaced the abacus in these parts, occasionally you will see someone using one, fingers flying to total a purchase. The nice thing, no worries about replacing the battery.

How about you? Are you skilled with the abacus? Do you use one regularly or perhaps own one?

Fresh Cranberries in Central Market

Fresh cranberries (Клюква, as handwritten on the sign) straight from the bogs of Archangelsk (Архангельск) in far north Russia. Welcome to Rostov, little berries. Compared to frigid Archangelsk, Rostov is almost tropical.

These vitamin-packed gems will set you back 70 to 140 rubles a jar (24.5 rubles to the dollar at the moment), depending on the quality. I settled for the loose ones, two kilo at 200 rubles each.

Oh, aren't they beautiful? I'm stocking up on cranberries while they're in season. Someday soon I'll tell you about my adventures with drying cranberries and other means of preserving them.

How about you? Do you have a favorite way to enjoy this so good-for-you fruit? Have you ever tried drying fruit yourself?

Babyshkas on Street Corners

Raspberry jam for you? Or fresh, cooked beets – ready to peel and eat? How about pickled onions and cucumbers, homemade coleslaw or spicy tomato sauce? Russian BAB-ysh-kas, or grandmothers, are often on street corners selling food stuffs in hopes of making a few extra rubles. These hearty souls come prepared to spend the day outside in the cold.


Oh great, this lady has walnuts for sale. In the market kiosks they run maybe 50 rubles ($2) a glass but they're bound to be cheaper here. And I always need walnuts for baking muffins.

Did you shell them yourself?

Oh of course! They’re so fresh and tasty.

And they're really clean - no little bits of shell? For how much?

Oh of course, I go through them very carefully. They’re 35 rubles a glass but for you, 30 rubles.

I need three glasses. Well, let’s make it five.

You wouldn’t need any canned sweet peppers do you? They're really tasty and so good for you.

The Queue at the Bank

The Etiquette of the Queue

I joined the queue at the bank and congratulated myself for being third in line. It was sure to go fast. Normally we would be using the ATM on the street, but it freezes up in the winter and so we were using a window inside. After 15 minutes, however, we were no closer to the teller and the line was even longer.

Two young men in line behind me seemed to know each other.

"Let's go have a smoke," one said.

When they returned, the guys wanted back their places in line. But first they had to persuade the blond in the cream coat to let them in. After some fussing, she complied but she began a campaign of complaining about the slow service.

The two guys were talking louder now and aiming their remarks at the lady who was first in line. She was wrapped in mink from hat to hemline and had buddied up with lady #2, clad in a cotton coat, scarf knotted under her chin. Lady Mink stayed cool despite the on-going comments from the line and kept signing the long slips of paper that the teller pushed to her through the sliding tray.

"All this waiting for ten rubles, her whole pension," quipped one guy loud enough for all to hear. Her check would be pocket change is what he was saying.

Mrs. Mink didn't look up; she just kept signing her papers.

This wasn't the first time I had observed issues of the queue. Two summers ago, I was 6th or 7th in line, in this very line. As we inched forward, a couple of babyshkas, Russian grandmothers, charged up to the head of the line.

"We're next," they announced. "We've been waiting and we're next."

Actually, they had been resting in chairs along the wall. It's not uncommon here to step out of line to rest or to run another errand. Someone might be in line at the bank, at least in theory, while they are actually at the post office. When they return to the bank 10-15 minutes later, they want their spot back. Those waiting usually accommodate the multi-tasker with a sigh of resignation. But for me, the situation calls for more than a sigh. Perhaps it's all those years of teaching school and monitoring lunch lines, perhaps it's my fondness for etiquette or perhaps it's a reflection of my own culture where one waits in line or loses the spot. So, although I'm learning to be diplomatic about it, I do tend to verbalize displeasure at being pushed back in line. Rarely do I hear anyone else expressing annoyance about this or anything else for that matter.

That summer's day, however, I saw the Russian queue in a new light. The young people in spots 2, 3 and 4 weren't in the mood to be pushed back and they weren't budging. They were standing tight and close.

When the babyshkas got louder, the young security guard came over to investigate. He was blond, boyish and hesitant to get involved. He understood that Russian babyshkas are not timid souls. Chances are he had dealt with a babyshka of his own.

So he tried using persuasion. "Please, people. Please let these grandmothers get in line."

No one moved.

"You've got to let me in line. I'm a hero of the Great Patriotic War!" cried one. With that, she was playing her trump card. Being a war hero has its privileges, which include going to the head of a line and getting a seat on the bus. In theory, at least.

The young woman in spot #2 wasn't impressed.

"Check her documents," she countered. "She's probably just saying that."

Lady #3 had stories of her own. "Well, I've suffered too. My father perished in the war and I was orphaned. Besides that, I had a heart attack last week."

I was rather enjoying the conversation around me. For once I was not involved in upgrading the behavior of the queue.

Another babyshka shuffled into the bank and joined me at the end of the line. She smiled shyly.

"Won't you please allow me ahead of you? I won't take long. And my health isn't so good."

"With pleasure," I said, surprising myself at what a softy I had become.

The security guard overheard our little chat and recognized it as fodder a persuasive speech. He headed back to the front of the line where things were quieter although no one had given in just yet.

"Ladies, there's a foreigner here who was kind enough to let one of our babyshkas in front of her. Let's follow example of this foreigner and be kind to our own elderly."

Oddly enough, I don't remember how things turned out that day at the bank. But I do know that the etiquette of the queue continutes to challenge me as I adjust to Russian life. It's a culture which itself is in transition as younger people are more willing to be assertive and nudge public interaction to a higher level.

So, think you're next in line? You might be. Then again, if you happen to be in this neighborhood, don't bank on it.

Officer, Are You For Real?

A traffic cop waved his black-and-white baton signaling the car behind us to pull over. I was in a taxi heading toward the outskirts of the city. Snow piled high along our route was aglow in the late afternoon sun.

"Ooh-rah! So glad we didn't get pulled over!" I exclaimed in Russian.

The driver glanced at me in his rearview mirror and nodded. "All they want is money."

I'd heard that before but I wasn't going to be the first to bring it up.

"How much do they want?" I probed.

"Oh, around 500 rubles for a documents violation and maybe 150 for something minor." The driver's brown eyes glanced toward me in the mirror.

"That's outragous! If police in the States did that, it would be a major scandal!"

"Well, this way the fine is lower and the driver can pay it then and there. Whereas with an official ticket, the driver would have to stand in several long lines to pay it and the fine would be higher. Plus this way, the officer makes some money too."

"Well our system is different. We just write out a check and mail it in with the ticket. It's quick and easy. But it's not cheap. " (Or so I've heard. Ha-ha!)

"Well, here in Russia we have to pay in cash and in person."

Not all Russian traffic cops can be bribed, I've learned. Although I get around on public transport as do most folks. If I did have a car, I imagine that I might do exactly what some other drivers have done when they have neared a cop with baton pointed at them: Pull over immediately, gather documents and wallet and approach the officer with trepidation. Only to discover that he is a life-size, plastic mock-up, a law enforcement decoy. Such an Officer Plastic comes with a two-dimensional police car, a speed gun and the standard black-and-white baton. Although he's plastic, he's no dummy. He manages to bring traffic to a crawl.