Going postal

Today is a good day.

Today may even be a great day.

Why?

I managed to send a package by post all by myself, talking only in Romanian (ok, and a lot of body language). Some of you may remember my last disastrous encounter with the Romanian postal service. I feared this time would be no different.

I needed to send a Christmas gift to my Swedish sister (she was my host sister when I was an exchange student there). I got her a gorgeous orange pashmina shawl in Florence. I hope she likes it!

Anyways, I got into line and nervously rehearsed what I would say to the lady behind the glass. Yes, post offices in Romania are like the DMV back home, with plexi-glass and tiny holes with which to speak through. An old man was doing his valiant best to cut into the line in front of me. Canadian-ness be damned, I'll be late for work if I let everyone cut in in front of me, so I smooshed up to the girl in front of me. The guy got the message.

In France, when you're the customer being served, you have the sales associate's full attention. In Romania, other customers will cut in front of you and will interrupt you to ask the postal lady a question, and she'll interrupt her response to you by answering their question. Yes, it's easier than standing in line to ask a simple question, but where's the customer service?

I remember when a friend of mine tried that in France and got a stern lecture from the lady in charge.

So I get to the front of the line and I show my bundle of goodies I want to mail and ask for en envelope. I had been standing in that line for almost 20 minutes. Apparently, this window only sells small envelopes. I have to go to the next window. Harrumph.

So I wait in line again for another 15 minutes. The lady in front of me takes forever in choosing which Christmas cards to buy. Lady, they all have candles and holly on them. Just choose one of each and get out.

Finally, it's my turn. I successfully buy the 18,000 lei envelope I want, which is hanging on the wall surrounded by other, differently prices envelopes. Victory is mine, I can almost taste it!

I ask for a stamp for Sweden. I point to the scarf and letter in front of me and say "Pentru Suedia" ("for Sweden"). She gives me a 31,000 lei stamp. I know there is no way that this stamp will get my Christmas gift to my sister, so I say again "pentru Suedia". She smiles and nods. Ok then...

I also decide to get a Christmas card for my host family. I point at the one I want and say "that one". She hands me the one beside it. "No, *that* one!" So she hands me like 20 cards and asks me to pick the one I want. Whatever. Then I ask for another stamp for Sweden. She tells me I already have one and points to the one she just gave me. I can say "I want another stamp please" in four other languages, but not Romanian. Suddenly, I get a flash of brilliance. I ask for *two* Swedish stamps. She gets it, laughs, and gets me another.

I start to fill in the address on the package. There is *no way* that 31,000 lei will get this from Romania to Sweden. So I stand in line *again*. I'm tired, frustrated, but I can see the finish line. I hand her my package, point to the scale and say "big". She looks at the stamp she gave me and tells me that I'm right...it's not enough to get to Scandinavia. She puts it on the scale and I need to buy almost $4.00 in extra stamps.

Karla 1, Postal Service 0

I'm exhilerated. I sent a package alone, all by myself, with no one to translate for me. I rush to the office because I'm already almost 45 minutes late.

I'm the only one there! My boss was coming back from Bucharest and everyone else was in Turkey. I called my coworker to come open the door.

She came 45 minutes later! I was freezing cold, standing outside, for 45 minutes. I was *not* happy.