My parents sent me a package September 1st. It arrived on Thanksgiving. Well, it didn´t exactly arrive, but the receipt that it was in one of Quito´s post offices arrived. Despite still being a little sick, I thought I´d get some air and pick up the package I´d been waiting for for months.
Ha! I should´ve known it would be an ordeal. First I had to find the post office. In NYC, when an address is given with cross streets, the building is actually at the intersection of those cross streets. Here that´s not the case. The intersection is near the building, but you never know exactly how near. After consulting with several people, I found the building. I went inside and asked someone waiting what I needed to do. He showed me the line where you pay to get your package. I waited on this line, and when it was finally my turn, I was told I couldn´t pay unless I had two copies of my passport. I crossed the street, made the copies, returned, paid a dollar, and received a receipt. I was then told to wait until my name was called. I sat down on a bench, waited about 15 minutes or so, and then a man in what looked like full military regalia called my name. He marched me to a back room where all the packages rested. He opened mine, flipped through the contents and then walked me over to a cubicle where another man sat. They chatted briefly in a Spanish too quick for me to understand and then the first man turned to me and said, "Necesita ir a la Camara del Libro." Huh? I had no id ea what the "Camara del Libro" was, where it was, or what I needed to do once I got there. The guy could tell I was confused so he walked me outside and put me in a car and told the driver where to go.
At this point, I handed over my life to this driver who for all I knew was a mass murderer. But we arrived at the building safely, I convinced the driver to wait for me, and after asking about five people I learned that I needed to go to the ninth floor. It turns out that I was at a special customs office specifically for books. They quickly told me I couldn´t do anything until I made more copies and paid them $3. I went to get the money and realized I had left my wallet in the car. I ran downstairs, exhaled when I saw the driver was still there, retrieved my wallet and made more copies. I then ran back up to the ninth floor where I was told I was still going to have to wait because they needed to print up a certificate for me to take back to the post office.
After about 20 minutes I was back downstairs in the car on my way back to the post office. Once there, I again waited on line, only to be told that once again I needed more copies before they could proceed with handing over the package. Finally, after one more trip across the street, the man assisting me directed me back to the woman who I originally paid a dollar, she looked my name up in a giant binder, made me sign it, and then handed me the package. Oy Vey!
It was all worth it in the end, as I now have my lovely package, filled with books, magazines, and yummy treats. Thanks Mom & Dad!
Whoa! I never knew there were worse bureacracies than the kinds we encounter in the states. That sounds ridiculous! But funny. Who knew they could care so much about books? Weird. Oh, I love the pictures you posted of the mosaics. They're beautiful!!
Posted by: Julia | November 26, 2005 at 09:39 PM
i remember a similarly annoying experience at the post when i lived in colombia. ergh! the post office in my 'hood is bad in SF, too. bureaucratic indeed!
Posted by: mati | November 27, 2005 at 02:22 AM
We are just so happy the pakage finally arrived. It is hard sometimes to remember what conveniences we have here in the USA!!!!
Enjoy the goodies
And next time we will send an envelope!
Posted by: mom | November 27, 2005 at 10:51 AM