Central American post offices

Perhaps the Royal Mail is not so bad after all (though the explanation I was once offered for not redirecting my post - "sorry we ran out of stickers" still defies belief). Though the queues can be lengthy, this is nothing compared to what awaits you here: sending a parcel will literally take you all day for one reason or another. Do people here have nothing better to do? It's true life is pretty slow, and even though I don't have too much on, my tolerance for inefficiency, inconvenience and pointless waiting around remains severely limited.

My first encounter with Central American post offices was back in Guatemala after some excessive souvenir buying activity. My guide book described the opening hours as erratic, which meant every time I showed up at the post office there was a note on the door setting out the one hour slot they fancied opening for later that day. Of course I'd get caught up with something else and miss the slot every time, until my last day when I realised I'd be hauling around several kilograms extra unless I successfully completed the Central America Post Office Challenge that day.

So I duly went to the post office. The door was open! Of course they were just shutting up, but I managed to establish what time they would open again later and that they sold boxes. Excellent progress. I killed a couple of hours in a cafe nearby, not wanting to stray too far. I returned prepared with scissors and brown tape, with 6kg of shopping ready to send. Alas! There were no boxes big enough to fit everything in. Crap. Having arrived exactly when it opened, this gave me one hour to run around town Challenge Anneka style, attempting to find a box sturdy enough to make it to the UK, all in my best espanol. Well I had to ask in a number of places but finally found one that I thought might have a chance of making it. I raced back to the post office only just in time, but the guy was very nice and stayed open until we'd been through all of the paperwork and stuck the box up with a lot of tape, whilst discussing the upcoming champions league match. Of course I had to fill in a ridiculous amount of forms, but finally the package was sent, and I'm pleased to report it actually found its way to the UK a few weeks later.

I had a further encounter in Nicaragua when trying to send a postcard in Leon, the second largest city in the country. You'd think this would be a relatively straightforward task. No. Because they didn't have any stamps left that day. Now in England you can't walk 100m in a major city without falling over a post office (and despite having some fairly negative Royal Mail experiences, they have never yet told me they've run out of stamps. Stickers, yes). But as I have found out here, there will only be one post office, and they don't sell stamps in other shops. So the only post office in the city has no way for me to send a postcard. Seriously. "You can come back tomorrow" the lady offered. Well not really, I was planning to take off early in the morning and didn't want to change my plans for the purpose of buying a stamp. The postcard had to wait.

More recently I accepted the second Central America Post Office Challenge in Panama City. Well this place was open for more than one hour at a time, however, full of complete jobsworths. Being the cost focussed restructuring accountant that I am (was), I identified several pointless tasks and mentally eliminated the requirement for half the useless people there within two minutes. I enquired, en espanol of course, how much a package to the UK might cost. Jobsworth 1 didn't even look up: "Depends on the weight". No shit. "About 5kg?" No response. I gave up on that and set about organising my things in the box I managed to get hold of in a nearby supermarket. But oh no. You can't possibly use brown tape, it must be clear. I still haven't figured out why. There was a florist next door offering a packaging service for $2 so I went off to enlist their services to ensure my package was compliant. 

They asked me if my package had been checked. Checked? Time to go back to the post office. I handed it over to the lady at customs who stuck her hand in, lucky-dip fashion, and asked me if there were clothes inside. "Yes" I replied. "Check" completed. At this point there were some discussions going on amongst other travellers about needing a passport. To send a package? I should have remembered that here you need a passport for just about anything. Of course I didn't have it with me, but I did happen to have my driving licence. I asked customs' Jobsworth 2 if this ID would suffice. "Yes that will be fine". What she didn't mention is that it would only be fine for customs clearance, but I wouldn't actually be able to send the parcel anywhere.

Unaware that my driving licence would not be sufficient, I returned to the florist who packaged everything up, then headed back to the post office to complete the paperwork. I went back to Jobsworth 1 to ask for the necessary forms. She directed me to a box in the corner. It was empty. But now Jobsworth 1 was busy talking to Jobsworths 3 and 4, and Jobsworths 5 and 6 were too preoccupied with looking busy to help me. I tracked down the guy that weighed the parcels and asked him for the forms: he disappeared and didn't come back. Eventually I banged on the window and pointed until someone gave me the bloody piece of paper. I filled out the incomprehensible thing and joined the queue that had now formed. What a fun day. 

So finally I got to the front of the queue. It was Jobsworth 1 again, demanding my passport. I waved my driving licence and told her the customs lady said that would be fine. Nope. You need a passport to use the postal service. Would be nice if they'd mention this when you first arrive. So I asked if I could leave the parcel there, hopped in a taxi back to the hostel as I was running out of time and the hostel was a fair distance away, picked up my passport and a copy (fearing the next issue might be a photocopier breakdown) and went back. Of course there was a queue again. But I made it back to the front, added some extra information on the forms that there was no box for, and completed another form including my address in Panama, though I'm not sure what use that is going to be at all. Success. And it only took about four hours, what a triumph. 

Never, ever approach a Central American post office without a whole lot of patience and a good book (and your passport).