So there we were.
It was noisy. Yet eerily silent as one waits in deep anticipation.
First, standing in front of a machine with buttons, unreadable options beside, not knowing which one to push but crossing fingers and taking a leap.
Lights randomly flashing, in uneven intervals, to the left. Then the right.
The overwhelming din of soft voices, eyes darting from screen to screen.
And my anxiety spiking as I watched the numbers marching closer to the one on the slip of paper in my hand.
Then, it was our turn!
Heavy footsteps plodded toward the window, hoping beyond hope that language wouldn't be a factor here (which inevitably it would be).
Hearts pounding in our ears.
And where was this place......this place causing so many mixed emotions, unease, nervousness.....
The Post Office.
A place up until Italy, I never found threatening. Or scary. Or somewhere to avoid.
That's all changed now.
Preface:
I had ordered a pair of shoes online and of course they didn't fit. Not wanting to suck up the cost and call it a write off, I decided to brave the post office and send them back. What could go wrong? I'm a grown woman who should be able to do this, even though I could guarantee language would be an issue and gestures used frequently (and perhaps Google Translate). Thankfully, one of my roommates who has a good expanse of Italian language under her belt decided she also needed to get stuff from the post office and would accompany me on this endeavour. Thank goodness!
The thing here in Italy is that nothing is ever easy. EVER! If it's not something bogged down in paperwork, then it definitely requires multiple steps. There's times when you need to go to many places to get different things bought or done, as they can't be always found under one roof. And other times when you can get or do multiple things at one place. There's no hard and fast rule as to when any of these situations will occur; it's just a learn by experience situation.
The post office fits into this latter category. Now, coming from a small town in Western Canada a post office is used primarily solely for posting / mailing and picking up things - packages, letters, envelopes, priority items. (Now if that's changed in the last few years, then I'm strictly speaking of my own experiences in this case). Here, the post office has MANY more multiple options. You can of course do all the above BUT you can also pay bills, get out money (the postal service has it's own banking system), and more that I can't even begin to describe because I just couldn't read what it said, lol.
The story begins at the postal outlet by the school. We hopped over there during one of our prep periods, me standing in one line to pay a household bill and my friend in the other line to ask about getting a bag to send my shoes back in (I only had the original packaging box, and wanting to get a large box to ship things home for herself. Well, needless to say this place didn't have either for us. So this meant.....dun dun dun.....we'd have to go to the big scary post office downtown. The one with tickets, and numbers, and different letters. Yeesh!
The next day this is precisely where we found ourselves. And, well, it was an experience. First, we stood in front of the ticket machine, trying in vain to figure out the Italian wording beside each button and hoping against hope we'd get the right ticket. If not, we were risking a return trip to this machine, and start the waiting game process all over again.
Ticket in hand, P### (P for Postal??? or so we'd hoped - although there was also an International version too) we sat down and waited, in what slightly reminded me of a hospital waiting room. Numbers were flashing at various counters, some with I###, some with E###, some with P###, just waiting. Waiting and watching in nervous anticipation.
Then finally, we were up. Upon reaching the counter, we discovered that thankfully the lady beside the one helping us had a bit of English and could help out as needed. Either way, we achieved results. And they were not good. Apparently, one cannot buy shipping boxes and bags at the Post Office. Oh no. You must buy those from an independent paper store before even getting to the post office. Oi vey!!
Slightly daunted, frustrated but really not surprised, we went to the nearby paper store. I was barely able to find a bag that my very small shoe box would fit in. But my friend could not find a box big enough to ship her stuff home in. A kind english speaking employee informed us that you could send any box, as long as it's covered in paper as the Italian system apparently does not like other writing to be on the boxes, but they only carry small boxes for sale. Hence why many teachers use a special shipping service to send things home we found out. And I have a feeling that the size of the box actually accepted at the post office would be pretty small.
Bag in hand, but boxless, we headed home. And all I could think was, great...I have the bag but now I have to do this all over again?!?!? Short story here: an Italian woman from school came with me the second time and made this round go much more smoothly.
In the end, lesson learned: 2 years in and the learning experiences still continue. Just wait until you hear about the police record check. ;)
