I've come to realize that the post office is where I experience the most culture shock, whether it be in the Himalayas or in the bustling capital. I know I've written a lot about the post office experience, because every single time I go, it's just weird!
Yesterday was no exception. We had a couple of packages to mail off, and I thought I had the hang of mailing packages by now. I mean, no more white tailored packaging mistakes. I now know the correct post office to mail international parcels and everything! Well just like in the Himalayas, it seems all the impatient people like to go gather at the post office, and it takes a lot to stay in line. This time I had husband with me who can speak up to the men crowding around. Normally at that point I would have to find a strategic way to hold my parcel so I could "bump" and/or elbow into people who were trying to cut in front of me. Husband just told them, "The queue is that way." In a never before seen South Asian moment, there was actually an orderly line at the post office, thanks to husband! Several impatient folks tried to get around waiting in the queue, but husband reminded every one of them where they should go. haha! One man even said, "But I'm in a hurry!" Husband just reminded him that so was everyone else. I think I should petition for him to be the Official Post Office Errand Boy, don't you? Well the MBTC (man behind the counter) was very confused about our package. I'm not sure why, but he didn't like it for some reason. So we had to walk around the post office and go to his desk. When we got back there, we glanced over at the customers who were waiting, and saw that in the short amount of time it took for us to walk around, the line had dissipated. I'm sure they were all thinking, "Yes! Finally, those ruly Americans have left."
The MBTC argued with us for several moments about why our package was incorrect - the items were loose, the box was too flimsy, etc. We tried telling him that no worries, we had done this so many times we knew it would arrive. He finally agreed that it was okay as long as we wrote really big on the white cloth "No Commercial Value." See, every time I go, I learn something new.
So I started thinking, I bet I could really shock these postal workers with statements about the USPS, like:
"In America, the mail man delivers things from a truck! To a person's mailbox!"
"You know, the USPS never rifles through packages and picks out what they want before delivering it."
"On holidays, it is not customary for a mailman to go to people's houses asking for money."
"In the US, you don't need paste to stick on stamps. And, you can buy stamps at places other than the post office!"
And probably the most shocking...
"The postal workers actually don't read every post card that I've written right in front of me!"
I'm pretty sure every one of these statements would be met with a gasp, a shocked look, or a, "No, you must be joking."
Showing posts with label post office. Show all posts
Showing posts with label post office. Show all posts
14.12.06
8.5.06
more post office stories
Back in January, one of the fam, Sudoo, sent me a Christmas package. It arrived in March with chocolate cookies (or biscuits as they call them here), and chocolate chips, among other awesome things. Well a couple of weeks ago, Alison and I went to the post office to collect another package. These post office women either love me or love to laugh at me, I'm not sure which one it is. My name sounds a lot like the word for sour in this language, and so every single time I go in, they have this joke where they call me sour, and then I have to reply, "No, I'm sweet." And they laugh raucously and shout through the office what I had just said. I play along, because these ladies are in control of my chocolate supply.
When Alison and I were there, after the obligatory sour and sweet talk, they handed me my package, a great one from friends of the family. One of the women walked up to me, and said, "Why haven't you brought us any of your chocolate?" I was surprised, and am sure I looked confused, because she continued, "In your last package, you received chocolate biscuits and we want some!" I love how she unashamedly admitted that they rifled through my package and then insisted I share! So very South Asian. After a few of the ladies told me how much I needed to share with them, I promised that the next time I came to the PO, I would bring them some chocolate. Alison told me I had better share, since once again, these ladies are in control of whether or not I receive my great parcels.
Also this past week, I went to mail my mother's day gifts, and had to go to the main PO, which unfortunately is not the one with the friendly ladies. I don't know what they're doing at the PO now, something like cashing checks or bank accounts, but lately it has been beyond crowded in there. I think it looks a lot like what the Great Depression must have looked like when men lined up for jobs every day. No one talks to each other and there are no lines, just a horde of people. People will dart back and forth, looking for a window that has the smaller amount of the mob in front of it, and even if you've been waiting for a longer time, it doesn't matter. Actually, it seemed to not matter to anyone but me. I, the ruly American, was already prepared, in my limited language knowledge, to say, "Excuse me, I am next," or "Sir, the line is there." But like I said, it's pointless. Everyone looks around nervously and stressed, and just politely pushes their way through. It's in constant movement. Have I described it enough? Well I waited. And waited. And waited. The number of people didn't change at all, with men still bobbing around windows. Then finally a woman pointed me to the front of the horde and said, "Ladies." I walked toward there, and the man behind the counter called me forward, and I got to cut in front of all the people waiting! Apparently, in this man's society there are some benefits to being a woman. No wonder the "line" wasn't moving. None of these poor men would probably ever get to the front. I felt justified though - I was at the post office with actual mail.
When Alison and I were there, after the obligatory sour and sweet talk, they handed me my package, a great one from friends of the family. One of the women walked up to me, and said, "Why haven't you brought us any of your chocolate?" I was surprised, and am sure I looked confused, because she continued, "In your last package, you received chocolate biscuits and we want some!" I love how she unashamedly admitted that they rifled through my package and then insisted I share! So very South Asian. After a few of the ladies told me how much I needed to share with them, I promised that the next time I came to the PO, I would bring them some chocolate. Alison told me I had better share, since once again, these ladies are in control of whether or not I receive my great parcels.
Also this past week, I went to mail my mother's day gifts, and had to go to the main PO, which unfortunately is not the one with the friendly ladies. I don't know what they're doing at the PO now, something like cashing checks or bank accounts, but lately it has been beyond crowded in there. I think it looks a lot like what the Great Depression must have looked like when men lined up for jobs every day. No one talks to each other and there are no lines, just a horde of people. People will dart back and forth, looking for a window that has the smaller amount of the mob in front of it, and even if you've been waiting for a longer time, it doesn't matter. Actually, it seemed to not matter to anyone but me. I, the ruly American, was already prepared, in my limited language knowledge, to say, "Excuse me, I am next," or "Sir, the line is there." But like I said, it's pointless. Everyone looks around nervously and stressed, and just politely pushes their way through. It's in constant movement. Have I described it enough? Well I waited. And waited. And waited. The number of people didn't change at all, with men still bobbing around windows. Then finally a woman pointed me to the front of the horde and said, "Ladies." I walked toward there, and the man behind the counter called me forward, and I got to cut in front of all the people waiting! Apparently, in this man's society there are some benefits to being a woman. No wonder the "line" wasn't moving. None of these poor men would probably ever get to the front. I felt justified though - I was at the post office with actual mail.
14.11.05
shh...don't tell PETA
This past weekend, husband and I went to mail off two more packages, and while there, an Australian guy asked us where we got our box wrapped. We told him a tailor, and he looked dumbfounded. "You mean they don't do that here?" I laughed and said no. Apparently, the woman at the post office had told him to come back at 3 (the time they stop sending international packages) and he could get the package wrapped there. He stood there slightly arguing with the ladies about what they told him then vs. what they were saying now. I felt for the guy, especially when he said he was leaving on Sunday to go back home and had no way of mailing this package off. We laughed, though, when he dramatically told the women, "You ruined my life and all you have to say is I'm sorry?!" It was a bit over the top. And as bad as it sounds, I was kinda relieved to know we weren't the only ones who didn't get the system.
Also on Saturday, husband figured out a way to scare off the monkeys. Someone gave us a walking stick, and so he held it up like it was a rifle, and they slowly scattered. I still think a bb gun would work wonders. One week of that, and we'd be rid of them forever.
Also on Saturday, husband figured out a way to scare off the monkeys. Someone gave us a walking stick, and so he held it up like it was a rifle, and they slowly scattered. I still think a bb gun would work wonders. One week of that, and we'd be rid of them forever.
8.11.05
here we go again
I posted on Saturday that husband and I tried to take our packages to the post office and were told we missed the mail truck by 10 minutes. After getting back from the hospital, I tried again. I took 3 packages this time, and showed them to the worker. He told me that actually, international parcels had to be sent from the main post office of our town, that no other post office had the customs labels. I asked him why he didn't tell me that on Saturday, since we had shown him our boxes and told him we were sending them air mail to the States. He just kept nodding and saying, "Yes, I remember you." So, for the second time in 3 days, I walked back home with the packages. You should have seem husband's face when I walked in the house with those packages.
Today, I stuffed 2 of the packages in a bag, and headed up to the main post office, a 40 minute walk from my house. Halfway there, I suddenly became surrounded by monkeys. I cautiously crossed the road, careful to not look at them directly. A woman walking toward me grabbed me and said, "You have a bag, be careful!" I suddenly felt like a spy in Cold War Russia. I nodded, took a step, and stopped. The monkeys were all over the road, and weren't budging. The woman and her husband stopped walking and blocked my way to protect me from what I'm convinced are God's most vile creation. We stood still for about a minute, just eyeing the monkeys and waiting for them to leave, which they didn't. Instead, they actually started coming closer to us. We ended up crossing the road at one point, the two very kind strangers still instructing me on how to behave. I've never seen monkeys like this. A group of about 20 of us walkers were huddled together, waiting to be able to walk again. The monkeys slowly scattered, and the husband of the couple looked at me and said, "Go!" ("here's your chance, defect! defect!") Ugh they really ruin my walk to the market.
I got the post office without anymore primate encounters. It was 3:11. I was so excited to get rid of some of these boxes! I showed the boxes to the woman worker, who promptly told me that the international parcel pickup is at 3pm, and I couldn't drop it off today. She also informed me that all international parcels must be taken to a tailor and had a white cloth sewn over them, otherwise the postal system would not mail them. I am glad she told me this; otherwise, the next time I take those darn boxes back to the post office, I would've been told to go back home for the 4th time. There's gotta be something in Proverbs 31 about this.
The silver lining to all this is that lugging those boxes around have got to be toning my arms a bit. And husband's dumbfounded reactions everytime I walk back home with the yet unmailed boxes are priceless.
Today, I stuffed 2 of the packages in a bag, and headed up to the main post office, a 40 minute walk from my house. Halfway there, I suddenly became surrounded by monkeys. I cautiously crossed the road, careful to not look at them directly. A woman walking toward me grabbed me and said, "You have a bag, be careful!" I suddenly felt like a spy in Cold War Russia. I nodded, took a step, and stopped. The monkeys were all over the road, and weren't budging. The woman and her husband stopped walking and blocked my way to protect me from what I'm convinced are God's most vile creation. We stood still for about a minute, just eyeing the monkeys and waiting for them to leave, which they didn't. Instead, they actually started coming closer to us. We ended up crossing the road at one point, the two very kind strangers still instructing me on how to behave. I've never seen monkeys like this. A group of about 20 of us walkers were huddled together, waiting to be able to walk again. The monkeys slowly scattered, and the husband of the couple looked at me and said, "Go!" ("here's your chance, defect! defect!") Ugh they really ruin my walk to the market.
I got the post office without anymore primate encounters. It was 3:11. I was so excited to get rid of some of these boxes! I showed the boxes to the woman worker, who promptly told me that the international parcel pickup is at 3pm, and I couldn't drop it off today. She also informed me that all international parcels must be taken to a tailor and had a white cloth sewn over them, otherwise the postal system would not mail them. I am glad she told me this; otherwise, the next time I take those darn boxes back to the post office, I would've been told to go back home for the 4th time. There's gotta be something in Proverbs 31 about this.
The silver lining to all this is that lugging those boxes around have got to be toning my arms a bit. And husband's dumbfounded reactions everytime I walk back home with the yet unmailed boxes are priceless.
5.11.05
you learn something new everyday
Breaking news! This just in! Husband has befriended the three neighbor guys downstairs, and tomorrow, they are going to join us for a meeting at our house. Our first people to join us! We will be doing some p&w, and then husband will tell a story, and we will all talk about what that story says to us, and of course, send money. Speaking of, please send money for these 3 guys to be touched by the boss tomorrow morning.
Alright, back to regularly scheduled postings.
I love finding out all the weird things about this city and its systems. It can be so fantastically frustrating sometimes. Today, after finishing packing up the boxes to send to our families for Christmas, we took the hike up to the post office. It closes at 5, and since we left after 4, we hurried a little to make it on time. We arrived at 4:40, and showed the man our boxes. (we only took 2 today...we are taking them up in small amounts because 1.) it's not an easy walk, and 2.) this city knows nothing of small boxes, and so we have small presents jostling around in big boxes) The postal worker told us, "I'm sorry. The truck has already come for today." We told him that it was okay, we just wanted to drop them off, and he could mail them out when the next one came on Monday. He told us, "No, you can't leave them here because it's not safe." We thought it over, and realized there was nothing to do but take them back home with us. At least he was honest. But we had some letters to mail out, too, so we thought we'd try our luck with them. Nope, same response; he refused to take our mail. While I did appreciate his concern for our items, and would much rather take the boxes back home than have them stolen, I couldn't help but wonder, "Then why are they still open?"
The electricity went out for awhile last night. The is nothing new; it goes out at least once a week for 5 minutes, or more. Last night, just as I turned on the oven, the lights flickered, and then there was pitch darkness. It wasn't just a breaker; it was our entire community. Husband told me it was probably me who caused it, because otherwise it was just some incredible coincidence. Oddly enough, I didn't feel too guilty, but more like a little pride. After thirty minutes without electricity (and without heat! yikes!) husband went into the kitchen, and noticed that the oven wasn't even plugged in! It wasn't caused by me afterall. He picked up the plug, put it in the socket, and the electricity immediately came back on.
Incredible coincidences never fail to make me laugh.
Alright, back to regularly scheduled postings.
I love finding out all the weird things about this city and its systems. It can be so fantastically frustrating sometimes. Today, after finishing packing up the boxes to send to our families for Christmas, we took the hike up to the post office. It closes at 5, and since we left after 4, we hurried a little to make it on time. We arrived at 4:40, and showed the man our boxes. (we only took 2 today...we are taking them up in small amounts because 1.) it's not an easy walk, and 2.) this city knows nothing of small boxes, and so we have small presents jostling around in big boxes) The postal worker told us, "I'm sorry. The truck has already come for today." We told him that it was okay, we just wanted to drop them off, and he could mail them out when the next one came on Monday. He told us, "No, you can't leave them here because it's not safe." We thought it over, and realized there was nothing to do but take them back home with us. At least he was honest. But we had some letters to mail out, too, so we thought we'd try our luck with them. Nope, same response; he refused to take our mail. While I did appreciate his concern for our items, and would much rather take the boxes back home than have them stolen, I couldn't help but wonder, "Then why are they still open?"
The electricity went out for awhile last night. The is nothing new; it goes out at least once a week for 5 minutes, or more. Last night, just as I turned on the oven, the lights flickered, and then there was pitch darkness. It wasn't just a breaker; it was our entire community. Husband told me it was probably me who caused it, because otherwise it was just some incredible coincidence. Oddly enough, I didn't feel too guilty, but more like a little pride. After thirty minutes without electricity (and without heat! yikes!) husband went into the kitchen, and noticed that the oven wasn't even plugged in! It wasn't caused by me afterall. He picked up the plug, put it in the socket, and the electricity immediately came back on.
Incredible coincidences never fail to make me laugh.
18.10.05
dominant species
Today I was studying language in a coffee shop (it seriously may be the best idea I've ever had), and I looked out the window and saw these two monkeys. One of them grabbed what looked like some sort of plastic container of orange jello, and stuck the whole thing in his mouth, plastic and all. He sat for awhile and chewed and chewed, probably wondering why it was taking so long to swallow. But instead of spitting it out, he just kept chewing. And it made me think, some people actually think we evolved from them? I mean, my dog (ahem, I mean my parents' dog) at home wouldn't even do that. Granted, he went through his scared-of-ice phase, but everybody has irrational fears. And if evolution turned monkeys into humans, why are those annoying creatures still around?
There are no mailboxes here, so you have to go to the post office to mail anything. We went for the first time last week, and it was an experience. Since there are so many people here, everyone gets assigned pretty much only one task at their work, and so we went through a few people at the post office. Just to mail 3 letters, we had to go through paying for postage, pasting on the stamp (literally...the guy pulled out old timey paste and wiped it thoroughly on each stamp), then I had to watch the guy put the letters in a box, and then someone else gave me a receipt. They would not let us leave until we had that receipt. Each letter cost 15, which is the equivalent of about 33 cents. Nice! I went back today on my own with 2 more letters, went through the same process, except this time, no receipt. I wonder why it wasn't important this time. Also, the price went up from 15 to 24. I asked why it increased, and she told me because they both weighed more than 20 grams or something like that. I was about to argue when I realized that I was going to complain about mailing something air mail overseas for 50 cents. A regular stamp in the US almost costs that much. An example of something that's just not worth fighting over.
Priya is so close to coming to know the truth. Please remember to send her money. She is to the point where she realizes how empty her life is, which is when I came to personally know the boss, and I'm hoping she will meet him soon as well.
There are no mailboxes here, so you have to go to the post office to mail anything. We went for the first time last week, and it was an experience. Since there are so many people here, everyone gets assigned pretty much only one task at their work, and so we went through a few people at the post office. Just to mail 3 letters, we had to go through paying for postage, pasting on the stamp (literally...the guy pulled out old timey paste and wiped it thoroughly on each stamp), then I had to watch the guy put the letters in a box, and then someone else gave me a receipt. They would not let us leave until we had that receipt. Each letter cost 15, which is the equivalent of about 33 cents. Nice! I went back today on my own with 2 more letters, went through the same process, except this time, no receipt. I wonder why it wasn't important this time. Also, the price went up from 15 to 24. I asked why it increased, and she told me because they both weighed more than 20 grams or something like that. I was about to argue when I realized that I was going to complain about mailing something air mail overseas for 50 cents. A regular stamp in the US almost costs that much. An example of something that's just not worth fighting over.
Priya is so close to coming to know the truth. Please remember to send her money. She is to the point where she realizes how empty her life is, which is when I came to personally know the boss, and I'm hoping she will meet him soon as well.
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