Tuesday 6 February 2007
I had a close encounter with the inner workings of the Argentine bureaucracy today. The lovely ladies at South American Explores (a local travelers' club of which we are members) let me know that my mother's package was here, and I should come by the clubhouse. When I got there, I found, not a package, but a slip to go to the local post office to pick up the package. Pretty normal, they do that for safety, as there isn't usually a mail box or anything to put it in.
So, I go to the local post office and wait for over an hour to get my package. It's finally my turn, I sign for it, and the woman brings out, not a box, but a letter. Hmmm, a registered letter for me from the Argenine post system. I open it up, and it is another slip telling me that my package is at the main post office. I couldn't believe it.
Why they wouldn't just tell you which post office it's at on the first slip, I don't know. Maybe they see that it's from somewhere else and think, "Let's frustrate the foreigners!"
So, I go to the local post office and wait for over an hour to get my package. It's finally my turn, I sign for it, and the woman brings out, not a box, but a letter. Hmmm, a registered letter for me from the Argenine post system. I open it up, and it is another slip telling me that my package is at the main post office. I couldn't believe it.
Why they wouldn't just tell you which post office it's at on the first slip, I don't know. Maybe they see that it's from somewhere else and think, "Let's frustrate the foreigners!"
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