To keep our backpacks as light as possible we had planned to mail a few things home from time to time - books we had finished, things we had bought, clothes we were not wearing etc. Jim Rogers in his second travel book, Adventure Capitalist comments that a good test to see if a countries systems are in good shape is to mail a parcel home. If this is a simple process then maybe it is a well-run efficient country. If it’s difficult it could be a bad sign. Now to be honest some weeks ago we sent home a parcel from New York and that was more than a little complicated. But nothing could have prepared us for the process involved in sending home a 2.5kg parcel from Como, Italy.
The day before we had stopped at the post office to buy two padded envelopes. We thought that it would be a simple transaction but after 10 minutes we worked out which of 4 different tickets to get from the machine, to put us in the correct queue, and we then waited another 10 minutes for our turn to buy them. When our time arrived we paid the lady who went to another counter on the other side of the room (with our 3 Euro) opened another drawer and put the money in there – it was all a bit odd.
So on Day 52 we arrived back at the post office prepared to actually send our parcels. After getting a ticket we waited about 15 minutes to be served. During this time we filled our two very difficult customs forms, which we guessed would go on the parcels. Then the fun really began. It seemed that sending things back to Australia was not going to be easy. Three post office workers, including one we guessed was the boss started an animated conversation in Italian with lots of hand movements.
The first problem was that the form needed an Italian ID number – which we did not have. More animated discussion followed and the decision was finally made to fill out an alternative longer and more complicated form. They then decided that we would be better off sending one rather than two packages- so we had to go to another counter to buy a box (which was so large we could have sent home half of our belongings). This was getting out of hand!
Once again they changed their minds and the boss lady started filling out the first form for us – with mutual difficulties because of language. Then they decided that they needed to see our passports (which were back at our accommodation). We suggested a driver’s license, which they photocopied but decided it was not good enough. Finally Richard found a photocopy of our passports in his wallet, which they photocopied, and on to which they wrote all of the details from the complicated form.
Things went from bad to worse when they observed that the sender’s phone number on the form was RQ’s mobile number and that was definitely not good enough. “Hotel Number – Hotel Number” we understood in broken Ital-English. “No Hotel – apartment – no number”. More confusion and lots more hand waving. Finally they agreed to put the phone number of the post office on the form. Then they became confused about the identity of the person we were sending the parcel to – a Miss Hannah Quadrio ( our 19 year old daughter at home) . Richard thrilled them with his pathetic Italian by saying “Bambino”. This sent them into another panic as they thought we were sending the parcel to a child. With the help of the three postal workers we settled on some version of “ Adulti”
Finally we got close to the end of the process when the next shock came - the price, 50 euro ($80 AUD). At this point it would have been cheaper to burn the excess gear and replace it when we got home. But more trouble was coming. They only accepted cash and we only had 45 Euro on us. More shouting followed (later we discovered an ATM ten metres away) which resulted in another search of the wallet and the finding of a stray 10 Euro note. (Thank God!) But it was not over yet… they began shouting again and yet another form was produced this time asking for a declaration of the value of the goods.
After nearly 80 minutes someone finally shouted “Finito”. We walked out of the post office mentally exhausted and considerably poorer with little hope that we would ever see the parcel again. Then two other customers came running out of the post office towards us waving hands and saying something in Italian that led us to believe we needed to go back.
We had forgotten our receipt!
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