He is the postman here, explains Matjaz Mack: “But not in uniform, not an official one.” With a shy smile he adds: “Who still writes letters or postcards today?” Because of the latter, the old man with white hair and a goatee went up to the Czech hut. He hangs the wet nylon poncho on a hook next to the entrance, it has rained again. Then he takes out a couple of packets of coffee and some milk cartons from his rucksack, which he hands over to the landlady Karmen Klaura in the kitchen.