If I See Em'

The post office in an anachronism.  Clearly.  But heading to the post office in a foreign country is a particularly sort of blast-from-the-past.  I had a box of “these-are-interesting-things-we-sometimes-eat-in-China sort of assortment to family in France. There was a “do not open till 2034 time capsule group of letters that also needed physical mail.  Email won’t do.  Texting wont cut it.  I think I know where the local post office is.

If you enter “post office” into a mapping app here in town, you get a number of little envelope icons right around my house.  I’d lodged in my memory that there was one to be had there on Tianbei Lu, not far from here and this morning I confidently headed out to find it.  Quickly, I was stuck, as has happened quite frequently of late, in New Convention Center traffic. The way back would be even worse.  I couldn’t begin to tell you what industry it is that has drawn all these people out to my neighborhood to set up booths.

I am talking on the phone and shouldn’t be.  I need to move over to the right lane and can’t,  The guy behind in the BMW me is annoyed.    I bid my call adieu and slow it down in the far right lane.  Where is that post office?  All I can recall is the approximate icon on the side of the road from the mapping ap.  Um.  Well, I know what China post looks like.  Until I begin to doubt that I do.  It’s a green sign with .  . .  I’ll know it if I see it.  If I had a gun to my head I’d likely wind up a bleeding horizontal mess were I to be forced to draw the ‘you’ or the ‘dian’ character.  But I’ll know em’ if I see em’.  And there ain’t any that I can see. 

I’m driving very slowly squinting into ever crevice of every mini-mall on the right.  There are many green signs, but not the green sign.  Like a birder in the tropical jungle my eyes see some green plumage.  But before I can look for more than a second I realize the tint is wrong to be the Post Office sign.  I continue moving east but I’m growing skeptical.  There isn’t much left to see on the right up head.  Before long I’m at the end of the road.  My memory palace has come up short.  I’ve got to do a U-turn. 

And from the other side of the road, I drive along squinting over all once again, in vain.  Nothing. I take the long way home to avoid the traffic and soon I’m in a discussion with our Ayi about local post offices.  She insists there is one in the other direction.  I bring up a map in Chinese and it appears her literacy is as wanting as mine.  “But yes, its there by the hospital.  Next to the KFC!”

Let’s just say her directions weren’t very good but after a stop or two I found the confusing logo of the China Post. You can’t ship any liquids!  I should have known that.  They won’t be getting any spicy Lao Gan Ma.  But otherwise, it’s all off and sent and though I’d budgeted for many hundreds of RMB, it only set me back a few.  There’s an awful lot of hand writing required with snail mail and I did this, paid and put my ear buds in, just in time for a forecst call. 

Wednesday, 03/08/17