Tuesday, October 30, 2012
One of the joys of living in a small town for a few years is the daily trip to the post office.
I suspect the ritual is the same for village life in England, Honduras, or China. Check the box for mail. And, more importantly, chat with the postal clerk about the latest goings-on in town.
What Agatha Christie novel would be worth reading without a similar plot-propelling scene?
Even though our temperatures are still past 90 degrees before noon, I decided to walk to town yesterday -- to enjoy this little town of mine.
And it was a bonanza day at the post office. All three clerks were there. Each with interesting tales.
We talked about the universal topic of the weather. Car wrecks. And my upcoming trips to Pátzcuaro and Oregon.
Even my postal box held more mail than usual. Two magazines. Well, the September and October editions of the same magazine.
As a blogger, I have been quite a booster of the Mexican postal system. It is usually very reliable. Certainly as reliable as the high-cost postal services used by some expatriates.
But,now and then, something odd happens. It usually takes about 10 to 14days for mail to be delivered from up north. In July, I sent off a pack of cards and letters -- both to Mexico and The States. It took six to eight weeks for the mail to be delivered.
And we all know the story about my subscription to The Economist. It arrived fine for a few weeks. And then just stopped.
Now, the odd delivery of different issues on the same day. I have no idea what happened. And I am not concerned. At least, they arrived.
One thing I have learned in Mexico is that getting in a lather over a few late magazines is not worth the bother. My focus is on the fact that I will now have something to read on the bus on my way to the hotel in Morelia.
It is certainly not the end of my world.
And my conversation at the post office is always worth far more than what shows up in my box.