Through Rain, Through Snow....

The US Postal service has this motto: "Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds." Notice that there is nothing there about efficiency or whether or not you will actually get your mail.

Generally I have all packages sent to me at the university, because I have had the best luck with not having to visit a Customs office when things larger than an envelope are addressed to me there. The other reason is that if we are not home, the postal person leaves a notice stating we have to go to a post office in another district to collect our goods; it is not a fun trip. 

Our friend Jeff sent me a package back in November. It had not arrived by the time we left, December 15th. I ordered seven books before we left on December 10th. When we returned and I stopped in at the university, they were all there minus 1 and Jeff's package was still MIA. As of yesterday, both there still no shows. But who is to blame? One would jump to the conclusion that it is the Hungarian Postal Service's fault, but lest we be too quick to judge, it could very well be our economically beleaguered US Postal buddies.

This was a long lead in to another story. If you read the Galapagos posts, you will remember Post Office Bay on Floreana Island. People leave postcards there for others to "mail" for them. We were happy to retrieve 2 from Hungary: 1 Budapest and 1 Szombathely.

When we returned, Ron mailed them both with a note and his e-mail address. This was the e-mail he received today. It does your heart good to know some postal systems work, even when there is no Post Office General to supervise it.

Thanks, for picking up our postcard from Galapagos, Florina - Post office bay. We are really surprised that it arrived. The legend looks like still alive. Unfortunately we didn’t find Hungarian cards, only from Austria, but we send it too to  Berndorf , Austria.
Thanks again :  ).

Best regards,
POOR Family from Szombathely

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The Missing Book

When I knew Ron was going back to the States, I started ordering books for him to bring back for me. Many of them were books I would use for teaching in the fall semester. Hunting for the best prices, I ordered from a variety of sources and then had them sent to his friend’s home in Iowa.

When he had left this friend’s home and was on his way to another friend who was hours away, I received an e-mail from her saying Ron had left one book behind. It was an essential book for a new course I would be offering in the upcoming term, so I had to have it. I suggested Ron turn back and get it, but it was not viable. The alternative was Postal Express via the USPS. She shipped it the next day, Monday. I insisted on paying the costs, knowing they would be beyond her budget regardless of her generous nature.

On the following Friday, the downstairs door buzzer starts ringing at 7:30 am. Having unsteady nerves with any buzzing, alarm, or beeping sounds since the burglar alarm incident, I jumped out of bed as Ron was asking "Who is that?" I keep telling him my psychic powers have dwindled with age, but he insists I should know these things. My initial thought was that we overbooked our rooms again. Oh, dear!!!

When I answered the intercom, a male voice said something not comprehensible, but it could have been the hour. When I asked again, I swore he said "Steve Turner". My mind raced, but I knew we were not expecting any Steve Turner. Finally, he said "Is THIS Ryan James?" Well if you can name me, I will let you in the building. Minutes passed as the elevator cranked up to the fourth floor and a short man in a postal uniform appeared at the door. "I need your passport, is how he opened the conversation. Forgetting I am now a resident with proper ID, I went for the passport, signed my name and received a package. My book arrived officially at 7:39 am.

$33.50 and "the check is in the mail", seriously!

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