Correos Part Three

So back on Tuesday as agreed. We actually got there a bit early, good or bad thing?

Official beurocrat, to be known from now on as Señor Correos, was there and remembered that we were coming, which was a good start. Paperwork given to us to fill out - we have filled out more forms this last eight weeks than in a year back home. Passport produced yet again, plus colour photocopy handed over: this is another marvel, our passports are requested as ID at almost all transactions. My passport has never been flashed so much! 

Anyway, forms all satisfactory on our side, leaving Señor Correos to fill out his bit. Apparently, according to the official, it is much easier to get a PO Box in Panama, less paperwork; good to know!! Searching for United Kingdom on his list of countries in order to state our nationalities, and it is absent, it can't be found anywhere! I can not be listed as a British citizen. DH reverts to Venezuelan, but me ... I have to be Scottish, or Irish! Señor Correos even manages to find Wales, but no Britain! I opt for Irish. 

Finally, after having been in the building for 45 minutes, and paying 10000 Colones for the pleasure, we are handled the key to our PO Box. We are now able to receive mail ... Well, until January when we have to pay another 10000 Colones, about £13, all for a small box in the wall. 

How reliable it is remains to be seen. 

Correos Part 2 ...

An ongoing  example of 'manana' here in CR.

So back to the Correos on Wednesday at 10.30am to open the PO Box. Outside, someone is receiving a back massage!

Just like our first visit, we bring all the paperwork that has been requested.

The Hawaiian-shirted official greets us amicably; after all, we are probably the first customers of the day. All looks promising - yes he remembers us and also recalls that he told us to come back at this time on this day.

BUT ... of course, there is always a but! The hombre that issues the PO Box has had to go to Puntaneras today, a town over an hour away. Yes, he has had to go and collect a key, at this particular time on this particular day, the exact time of our scheduled meeting! Incredible. DH and I remain calm, hey we can organise another visit. Thursday at the same time? Not a problem.

Thursday finds us outside the Correos at the allotted time. No massages today. No queues either. Oh but look, the office is closed!!!!!

Today, Friday, we drive past about 4 pm, after picking up YS from the school bus, and try our luck for the fourth time. Good fortune shines upon us and the official that we need is actually available, hooray! Oh surprise, surprise, bad fortune reveals its ugly face and the bureaucrat is unable to issue a PO Box today. I really couldn't be bothered to try and translate the reason why, or even to ask DH to translate for me. Instead, the man behind the glass calls upon DH to return again next Tuesday between the exact hours of 10 and 11 am, no earlier and no later: he will then most definitely be able to assist us but only during that precise hour! We shall see.

To be continued ...

Correos de Costa Rica

Took our first visit the the Correos yesterday.

The Correos in Playa del Coco
Sorry not a great picture, but I 'borrowed' it from Google Images.

Those that know me, will recall my love of visiting the Post Office in the UK. Trudging to the Wellington Centre in Aldershot, weighed down with packages from our Ebay sales; a Santa's Sack of goodies for me to post (always with a miscalculation in the postage we charged, despite using both Ebay and the Post Office price charts).

No matter what time of day my pilgrimage took place, I would without fail be greeted with a queue. I would frequently joke with my office buddy that if I hadn't returned within the hour, to send out the search parties. However, time was always put to good use in those long lines, and I would ruminate over the books and magazines WHSmith so kindly displayed to illustrate where to stand and wait: surely the passage of people was a pointer? Why go to college to learn how to be a techy, when you can stand in the Post Office track and study from the enormous display of computer publications for free? MacUser, 3DWorld, PC Format, they are all there, ready to be thumbed and thumbed again by immovable people in an inert progression.

Therefore, I looked forward to our first trip to the Correos here in Costa Rica with great anticipation!!!! How long could it possibly take to set up a PO Box, being as it took a protracted four hours to get car insurance? Why bother with a PO Box at all, I hear you ask? Well, it appears that is the only relatively safe way to receive any mail! See in Costa Rica, there is a distinct lack of street names to where mail (or ambulances and so on) can be sent. When asking for directions from the Tico's, the responses always seem to be obtuse; you are informed that  "...it's opposite the red house...",  "Turn left at the big tree" or even "300 metres south of ...". Now my navigation skills are not great, but if the sun is not shining, how am I supposed to know where south is? To add to the lack of street names, there appears to be a distinct absence of postie's too; not a Postman Pat and his Black and White Cat to be seen; no little red vans, no beaten-up bicycles, no abandoned elastic bands by your front door.

How then to secure a Post Office Box? Sometimes they are available and sometimes they are not. We were told by a friend that you had to wait until someone dies before the Correos would allocate a new one to a new customer.  Someone else told us they had a three year wait for theirs. Great! 

But hey, we had a few hours to spare before we picked the kids up from school, so why not try our luck? 

Low and behold, the place was empty. No people, no queue, no lingering body odour, no random publications, no advertising flyers.  Nothing. Nichts. Nada. An enterprise of nothingness.

DH and I approached the counter with apprehension; the Hawaiian-shirted cartero did not look best pleased that we were about to disturb his busy schedule. DH chatted to him for a while, buttering him up, before asking the big question. "Ocho Semanas" he tells us. I suppose eight weeks is better than waiting three years, but ever persisitent, DH goes in for the kill and appeals to him some more. A quick chat with his superior in an antechamber and we are told to come back next week, with our passports, and they will see what they can do. What day? Another consultation with the hidden bureaucrat and it is agreed that Wednesday would be a good day to return, as it's not so busy!!

All in all, a five minute visit. No PO Box, but then no queue. Result!