After nine weeks of living here, life seems pretty normal. I have to remind myself sometimes that it's not normal to have to bargain for a "bicycle carriage" to go anywhere or to buy fresh fruits and vegetables at a market that looks like it's from Aladdin. But sometimes, we have moments where the cultural differences hit us square in the face, and you can't help but laugh and say, "Oh yeah, we're in southeast Asia." Our mail experience was one such time.
Morgan's parents express mailed her a box a week after we arrived... two months ago. The customs number said it arrived in country about two weeks after she sent it, but a month after its supposed arrival, it had yet to make an appearance. So, Monday, we decided to take matters into our own hands.
After language school, we take a taxi to the big post office in town with a national friend and tutor, R, and another friend, D. Morgan and R go in to ask about the package, while D and myself wait patiently in the taxi, thinking it won't take longer than a couple of minutes to inquire and locate the package. I was wrong. While we're waiting, I take the opportunity to practice my language with our driver.
Forty-five minutes later, I've exhausted my language skills, and we've doubled our meter. Where are those girls? I text Morgan to make sure everything's okay, and a couple of minutes later, she comes out... alone and with no package.
Morgan: "Okay, so we still haven't found my package, but we've found two for you, Rachel, and one for D. You have to come and sign for them, and then you can help us look for mine."
Say what?
We excitedly jump out of the taxi and make our way into this massive, old building, past the line of people waiting, through some hallways and corridors to this back room. Even though they didn't really want us to take pictures, we sneak a couple anyways.
Packages EVERYWHERE. No order whatsoever. Just piled up all over the place. When I walk in, R is still searching, and the only worker in the room is sitting in the corner, just pointing where to look. Thanks, Pak.
Thankfully, with four people searching and them having already searched for nearly an hour, we soon find the long-awaited box, and there's much rejoicing. We're all smiles as we walk out, wishing everyone a merry Christmas, as ours arrived two weeks early.
And now we know what to do if our package doesn't arrive on time: just take matters into our own hands and find it ourselves.
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