The short answer: Bribery.
Exactly 2 years ago, I made a trip to the Chernigiv post office to mail Christmas presents to my family.
Three hours later, I vowed I would never again step foot into a Ukrainian post office with more than a one-page letter.
And I stuck to that vow, though not without some feelings of guilt. Over 2 years I let all family birthdays and gift-giving holidays pass, attended only by a Skype call or an email. Come second Christmas in Ukraine, I opted to carry my presents for the year home with me in my suitcase. And I will do the same this year.
But unfortunately, this trip home requires a lot more than presents in my suitcase. To be exact, this time around I’ll be carrying 2 years worth of stuff.
When I left America to join the Peace Corps, I brought with me 2 very, very large suitcases. I am thankful for almost every single thing I brought, although in hindsight, I realize I should have acknowledged the inevitability that, sometime during the 2+ years, I would feel the pull towards Ukrainian fashion and no longer feel silly in fur, heels, or head to toe black, day after day after day. Such an acknowledgement would have lightened my suitcases significantly.
This time around though, I have the benefit of knowing what I’m getting myself into. I know what I can and cannot buy in America (what I can buy: just about anything, what I can’t buy: grechka, at least, not without some searching). I feel much less concerned about fitting all of my few belongings into the suitcases I’ll lug home, and I have managed the seemingly miraculous accomplishment of fitting everything into 1 suitcase.
Well, almost everything.
Thing is, I can fit most of it into one suitcase, but not all of it. And, I don’t want or need to fill a whole second suitcase.
My options: pay $150 for the second bag at the airport (which is not nearly as daunting as the thought of trying to get it from my apartment to the airport in Kiev), or mail the extra stuff and not have to break some vertebrae on the 3 buses and 1 train that will take me and my possessions to the airport.
They say time heals all wounds. In this case, I do believe time healed my hatred for the process that is mailing packages to America from Ukraine. I confidently decided I would do this thing again, and that I would have better luck this time, because, well, I’ve been here for more than 2 years and, Ukraine, you owe it to me.
This is not to say I didn’t have my apprehensions. As a going-away/thank you present for the teachers at my school, I had Hershey’s candy bars and stickers that say “Thank you, love Jessica” mailed to me from America. I grabbed a few of the candy bars before I left for the post office, anticipating that I might need to do some damage control.
This decision, I truly believe, is responsible for the difference between a 3 hour trip to the post office and a 2 hour trip to the post office.
Yes, for the price of one Hershey’s candy bar and a sticker of thanks, I shaved one whole hour off my post office time.
(If I seem optimistic about this fact, it is because I am trying very hard to portray it in this way. I did not, in fact, feel in the least bit optimistic while in the post office for 2 hours.)
After Hayley helped me baba-bag-carry the packages to the PO, Oxana walked with me to the woman who was to decide my fate for the next few hours. On seeing the size of my packages (go ahead, giggle), she immediately responded with negativity. Gone was the smile that she usually gives me, and gone was my hope for a speedy PO trip.
“That package will not work. You cannot use that box. And we do not have any boxes big enough for you. And we have no brown paper to wrap your box in, so you cannot mail that box. And why did you tape it? Open it so I can see what is inside.”
As I quickly assured her that I would open the box for her, that I had, indeed, known she would ask to see inside the box and planned accordingly, I grabbed for one of the chocolate bars. Initially, I had planned to give this as a parting gift of thanks, but the wave of stress I felt flush down to my toes, brought on by the grimace of her face, made me rethink my strategy. I interrupted her mid-sentence, placing the candy bar in front of her, and I told her that I wanted to say thank you. That I would be leaving soon, and I just wanted her to know that I am thankful for her kind help over the past 2 years.
She was a bit taken back, and sent us away to buy grain bags to wrap the boxes in. When we returned, she was, truly, all smiles.
The woman giggled as she flipped through the massive book of How to Mail Packages to America, clarifying which America I wanted my packages mailed to (??!?!?!!!?) and made jokes about whether or not I was trying to mail a cat home (because I’m not allowed to do that, by the way). The key to that one hour shaved off my time: she took care of me without worrying about the people pushing in line on both sides of me.
Ya, 2 years ago, I was that person. Sighing loudly, guarding my territory in front of the window with a fierceness I did not posses in America, all while trying to get the PO woman to pay attention to me. This time around, I was causing that pain for others, and it felt good.
But wait, if she didn’t let anyone cut you in line, what could have possibly taken 2 hours, you ask? Well, there’s this little thing called a computer, and those little things don’t exist in the Novoazovsk post office. Every document I was required to fill out, I had to rewrite. 3 times. The process of stamping, taping, fixing my mistakes on the documents, tying up the grain bags, taping more stickers and papers to the package, all of that is what takes 2 hours. That, and the amount of time it takes to look through the bible of Ukrainian mail to make sure that I am indeed allowed to mail shoes, books and clothes to America.
So, ladies and gentlemen, there you go. If you ever find yourself in the process of mailing a package to America from Ukraine, remember that chocolate is your best friend. I wish I had known this 2 years ago.
Aunt Anne said,
November 23, 2011 at 3:59 pm
Chocolate is good for the soul and, apparently, makes the world an easier place to navigate. glad to have you home soon.