The Post Office Adventure Isn’t Over!

My friend, Katya, came over tonight at 6:00 to visit and I sheepishly asked if she’d like to take a trip to the post office with me.  She sweetly agreed, and later I discovered she was an angel disguised to look like Katya.  God sent her to help me!

She knew it was better for me to go to the main post office downtown, than the one I had gone to before (plus it works 24 hrs a day which turned out to be an important factor).  Later we found out only one window (out of about 40) works 24 hrs, and it doesn't do all the services that the post office offers.  We brought the boxes open, because all packages sent through Russian mail must be inspected by postal employees before mailed anywhere.  

The lady in the window that we needed was counting her money and closing up her window.  “I finish work at 8:00” she said.  It was 7:30 and Katya begged her to answer some questions, which she did very slowly over about a 15 minute period.  It was a process, but eventually we got all the information we needed.  

Turns out I wasted my time gluing paper all over the boxes.  The boxes have to be sewed up in material.  Katya asked if they had material, after five minutes the lady said no – they were out of it.  About 7 minutes later she added, “just so you don’t feel badly that you just missed the last material – we ran out at noon.”  Then she said if I come back very early in the morning, the lady on the first shift has 3 meters of material left that she can use to sew up my boxes.  3 meters is just enough for my boxes. I need to be sure to get here early – so nobody else gets the material, so I’ll be leaving home at 6:30 a.m. to be sure to get there by 7:45.  This morning it was –27 degrees, so I’ll be sure to wear my ski bibs. :)

The lady very sweetly took the boxes from me so that I wouldn’t have to drag them home and back again in the morning.  We stood in the next line for about half an hour.  The man there was also nice.  He looked in my box, weighed it, taped it with “Russian Post Office” tape and gave it back to me so we could stand in the next line.  

The next line was the longest.  Everyone in it was clutching their packages taped with “Russian Post Office” tape.  I noticed that in the line next to us there was a family who had been there when we arrived.  I had been smiling at the little boy (who was about 4) and he was hiding behind his mother’s legs and peeking out at me and smiling.  Something happened and the father got really frustrated and screamed at the lady behind the glass – she screamed back at him, and he started punching the glass on the window and yelling.  More ladies were gathering to back up the one and they were all yelling at the man and hitting the glass from their side.  One of the ladies yelled for security, and the man yelled louder and kicked the wall under the glass so hard I thought it would break the wall.  Security slowly made its way over there and calmed things down.  

Lights started going off in the building as all the windows started closing.  Our line was obviously the one that was open for 24 hours.  A new young girl came on shift.  For the hour we stood in her line I watched as she worked very quickly, systematically and accurately and without yelling (a rather rare quality for a post office employee here).   While we were waiting, the post office manager, dressed in her coat and hat to leave to go home, came behind us and asked Katya what our problem was.

Katya explained that we came here to mail 2 big boxes and the material had run out, so we put the boxes behind the counter and will send them in the morning.  The manager started yelling at her and said, "Well, what do you EXPECT!!!  Coming here when every NORMAL PERSON IS IN BED!!!!"  (I looked at my watch and it was 8:30)  "If you wanted material, you should have come in the daytime during normal post office hours!!!!!"  Katya very calmly said that we didn't have a problem with that - there was a man in the next line who was upset about something - we didn't know what he was upset about.  She thought Katya was the one who had been beating the glass and yelling.

The man in front of us had about 40 packages to mail.  We were sort of hoping, since we had one small box, that he might say, "Why don't you go ahead of me?" but he didn't.  The lady behind us in line told us that she had a friend who had come there last week at 8:00 at night and left at 3:30 in the morning. 

When it was our turn, the girl took my box and quickly processed it, taped a declaration paper on it and and told us we needed additional forms for the 2 boxes I’m sending tomorrow.  We went to several different windows but they wouldn't help us because they were all trying to go home for the night, one girl tried but she didn't have the right forms, so I’ll deal with that tomorrow.  

I could not have done all this without Katya’s help.  She truly was an angel for me today!  I arrived home at 10:30.  Better get to bed so I’m cheery for tomorrow morning at the post office!

Adventure at the Post Office

The whole thing started because I want to send a couple of boxes home to America.  I had already packed them, but had a sneaking suspicion that it would be worth a trip to the post office to ask them if it was okay to use my own boxes, and to make sure everything was okay before I made a trip to the post office with heavy boxes only to find out that the box was the wrong colour, or everything should be packed upside down or you need to staple a photo of yourself on every article in the box or some other weird restriction.

I walked 20 minutes to my local post office and to my great surprise there was NOBODY there - including the lady with whom I needed to speak.  There was a lady in the “pension” window.  I was certain she would not speak to me.  

However, I was wrong.  I told her the dimensions of my box and asked how much it would cost to send.  She said, “We don’t send international boxes here – you have to go to [this other post office twenty minutes away by car].”  I asked for their phone number.  At first she said she didn’t know, but then God showed mercy on me and without my saying a word she sighed a big sigh and looked it up for me.  Then she sighed again when I got it all wrong (numbers are difficult for me) and she snatched my pen and fixed what I’d written.

Calling the second post office and finding out the information I needed was one of the biggest language victories I’ve had here.  I understood everything except their hours of operation.  Again – it’s the problem with numbers.   Sometimes they do fancy things with them, like turning "2" from “dva” into "dvoox" or "5"  from “pyat” into "peetee".   

I wrote down what I thought she said, "11:00 - 12:00 and lunch from 1:00 - 2:00."  That totally didn't make any sense.  I decided to ask again when I went to the post office.  It’s easier to understand when you can see people face to face.

I saw the display of official post office boxes when I walked in, but there weren’t any big ones.  The wait was only a 20 minutes – wonderful!  When it was my turn there were about 10 people in line behind me.  I knew I needed to ask as many questions as I could possibly think of, and had been praying I would ask all the right ones.

The lady told me I could send my own boxes.  I asked if it was okay if there was handwriting on the boxes.  She said no.  There can't be any advertisements on the box either.  

“But I don’t have any boxes that don’t have advertising or words on them!”  I was so disappointed “Can I glue plain paper over the advertisements and writing?”  She said I could.  This doesn’t ensure that the person who receives the boxes will accept them.

Today I cut and glued pieces of paper all over  one of my two boxes.  The post office gave me three half-page forms (covered with tiny writing in Russian and French) to fill out for each box.  (French??!!)  Thank goodness I understand French.  I could read it better than the Russian.  I had to laugh – they ask you not only the total weight of the box, but also how much each thing you put in the box weighs.

I’ve chuckled several times today thing about what happened when it was my turn at the post office.  The boxes they had on display that they were selling were way too small for me.  "Are those all the boxes you have?"  I asked.  The lady said yes.  

"You don't have any bigger ones?"  

A male voice piped up behind me, "This is Russia!!"  (meaning, "Are you kidding?  This is Russia.  Do you think we would have anything that would make your life easier?")

Then when I asked her what the post office hours were, I understood her to say exactly what I had understood on the phone.  The man who had said, "This is Russia!!" saw my confusion and came to look at what I had written.   Monday to Friday 11:00 - 12:00 with a 1 hr lunch obviously wasn't right.  I knew 12:00 wasn't right.  "Dvenadtsat chesov???" I repeated what I thought she had said.

"No" she said, "Till [blah blah blah]"  

"Till 7:00?"  I asked hopefully, just guessing a time, hoping I'd gotten it right.  Here they use military time, which confuses me, and with 10 people behind me in line I was nervous and forgot if you add two hours or subtract 2 hours and the “1” (or whatever it is that you do to make it the right time).  

"No!" she said, getting frustrated, and the nice man took my pen out of my hand and crossed out what I’d written and wrote 11 - 19.  I had no idea what 19 was, but was so happy he wrote the right time and would figure it out later.  Then he wrote in English "Sat:   9 - 18     Sun:   vacation."  I thought that was cute.  I was so grateful for that nice man.  He was very funny, and the ladies at the post office obviously knew and liked him.  I like the ladies at that post office.  

Well, I'm going to glue paper on another box.

[tried to put photo but it turns out blurry - will try again later]

A Very Happy Birthday Already (in Kyrgyzstan)

What a birthday morning!  After waking I was instantly surrounded by five little girls hugging me saying, "S dnyom rozhdyenia Neekola!!"  ("Happy Birthday Nicola!!") and Masha sang Happy Birthday to me in English. We had breakfast in the dining room - macaroni noodles, mashed potatoes and onions, coleslaw fresh homemade bread and tea.  After breakfast, they gave me birthday cards they made last night.

Some cards were three dimensional, some had bows, one had "words" written all over it (lots of "M's" - or "W's" depending on which way you hold the card).  One was decorated with beautiful Christmas decorations.  Last night one artist asked me how old I was.  She looked a little perplexed at my answer, and on her card this morning was a cake with fifteen candles (as many as would fit on the cake).  After breakfast the pastor's wife called me wishing me long happy life and a deeper relationship with God.  It's been a wonderful morning so far.  Soon I will be making lasagna for 30 for dinner tonight.  It's going to be a great day!

Eva's Whispers

EvaIt's really fun to be able to understand Russian enough to know when kids say cute things.

My friend's daughter, Eva, is 2 mos shy of 2.

In Russian "I love you" is "Ya lyublyu tebya"

This little girl is made for hugs and kisses.  She comes up to you with arms outstretched to be picked up, then gives you a hug and a kiss and puts her mouth to your ear and whispers "blue blue blue blue blue blue".  It's so cute!!!

The Surprise (to me) Birthday Cake Which I Made...

Yesterday (September 25th) I had an overwhelming urge to try out a new kind of cake I’ve been wanting to try. I even got up early in the morning to do it. (Those of you who know me well know that is unusual behaviour for me.)

It turned out quite well (see photo), but when it was done, I didn’t know what to do with it! In the evening I went to a babushka’s house to deliver a vacuum cleaner I’d bought. I cut her a piece of cake. She was thrilled and said I should open a bakery. When I returned home, there was all this cake I didn’t know what to do with.

This morning I heard my neighbour, Luba, preparing to leave for church. I quickly cut a wedge for her. When I opened the door, there were three lovely little children bundled up for winter (no, it’s not winter, it’s just turned fall, but every good Russian bundles up with hats and scarves and coats when the weather is changing). Luba looks after her grandchildren on weekends and they were on their way to church, “to celebrate Seryozha’s birthday!” Luba was referring to the littlest who will be four on Tuesday.

“Oh! Wonderful!! I have something for you!” I said as I ran to cut a bigger piece of cake. Getting down on Seryozha’s level I showed him the cake. His face lit up.

“Do you know, Seryozha?” I said, “I didn’t know it was your birthday, but God knew, and He had me bake a cake . . . for YOUR birthday!” He liked that.

“I know what one of his presents is going to be!” his big brother announced.

“Shhhhh! Don’t tell!” I smiled, backing into my apartment as they tottled off down the stairs bundled in their warm clothes with cake for birthday tea.