The Post Office. Again.

I got an email from the Fulbright House saying that I had two packages to pick up at the Jordan Post Office downtown. I knew that I needed to set aside at least a couple hours to make it to the Post and back. I tried to go after class but I got there too late and the package office had already closed (at 3pm!). Interestingly, this cab driver dropped my off at the same Orange office building and tried to convince me that it was the Post Office.

Anyway, the next morning, I set out at 9am and caught a cab to downtown. Thankfully, the package office on the second floor was open. I knew which line to get in this time. I told the employee that I had two packages to pick up. He said "Paula Koch?" (well, this is what he meant to say at least). I was surprised that he knew who I was. He handed me my packing slips and I headed to Office 1 again. I handed over the slips and my passport and waited in the hallway for my name to be called. Luckily, there weren't too many people before me so I only waited a minute or two. "Bala" was called and I walked back into the office where they had both of my packages waiting to be opened. Similar to my former experience, another employee took a box cutter to my boxes and sifted through the contents. My papers were signed and I was told to go see the director. A clearly American man standing nearby asked if I knew what he was saying to me (as the conversation was in Arabic) Admittedly, a little indignantly, I translated for him what the employee had told me to do. Clearly, he thought I needed help. I thanked him for his concern and went to see the director who signed my form and sent me back to the main counter and then back to Office 1. Office 1 employee sent me to the third floor to another office. The man on the third floor looked at my packing slips and the directors signature and then told me that I needed to pay him 30JD. For what? I'm assuming customs. Unfortunately for me, I didn't have 30JD. He told me I should take all of my forms and go find a bank. I walked downstairs and outside and looked around for a bank. I walked a block or two and found a harmless looking elderly man leaning against the wall of his workshop. I asked him if there was a bank nearby. It was mildly difficult for me to understand him because of his toothlessness. I managed to garner that a few blocks up and slightly to the left there is a "really big bank."

I walked to the bank and saw the ATM outside which I couldn't get to work. I walked inside and found an electronic screen where I was supposed to select which service I needed help with. I choose withdrawals/ deposits and the machine spit out a ticket with my number: 43. I stood around for a few minutes very aware that I was not a business man in a suit as were the rest of the customers. When they called 38 several minutes later I decided not to wait. I walked back outside and saw a man using the ATM so I waited several steps behind him to try again. I was successful this time.

On my walk back to the post office, I passed the elderly toothless man who was leaning against he same piece of wall. I told him I found the bank and thanked him for his help. Back at the post office, I walked to the third floor and paid the man by 30JD. He handed me a receipt to take back downstairs. I waited at the main counter to give the employee my receipt. He took it and asked me where the other sheet of paper was. What other sheet of paper?? I said I needed my second piece of paper. I went back upstairs to see if the third floor worker had kept my paper. He did, in fact, still have it. I handed it over to the main counter employee who then asked me to pay 1.4JD. Then, back to Office 1.

I walked into Office 1. Normally there are at least 3 or 4 employees hanging around. I walked in and the office was empty! I should have known they wouldn't be there when I saw the tray of tea, hummus and pita being delivered earlier. I stood in the office not really knowing what to do. Finally, one of the employees walked back in and looked at my papers and said I was okay to go with my packages.

Leaving the post office, I wasn't sure whether I should laugh at the absurdity of the situation or cry at how frustrating the whole thing was. I opted for an in-between of bemused frustration. The ordeal was completely worth it. I got a package from Jonah with jars of peanut butter, oatmeal and anti-itch cream (because the mosquitoes love me here). I also got a package from my mom with all sorts of things like more oatmeal (!), candy, cloth pieces to decorate my wall, a couple magazines and a few other goodies. Again, totally worth it.