the post office

One of the most common questions that I get, from both Spanairds and Americans alike, is, "Are there big cultural difference between Spain and the US?" I always immediately say yes, but then find it hard to back that up with real examples that support this idea in an anecdotal way. So even though this happened in mid-december I have to share the experience because it is very indicative of cultural differences between the US and Spain.

I went to the post office around 1:30pm with one of my roommates to send a few holidays packages. I got my number and waited in the 20+ person line that I will admit, went relatively fast. Once I got to the window and handed over the boxes the friendly Spanish postal worker smiled when my roommate told him the packages were going right next door...one to Thailand and the other to the US. He thought this was amusing and began asking me questions about where I am from and why I am here in Spain. Slowly he gets to weighing the packages and telling me the different options that I have...although he does not know the expected arrival times for express, regular, air mail, nor shipping, and can not answer any of the other questions I ask, we finally decide on a method and he tells me the price. 33 Euro and 27 Euro or so. He then proceeds to take out hundreds of stamps to wet and put on the front of the packages. We ask whether or not they have the capability to just print out a little sticker with a bar code saying the price, and he says yes but that he prefers to use the stamps. Gives it a more personal feel.

This whole the postal worker next to us is listening in and asks me where I am from, why I speak with an accent, and if I like Spanish ham. This with a line of about 15 people waiting to be helped. I say that no, I am not too fond of Spanish ham, that yes I have tried it many times, and that it is something we are not used to and don't have a taste for. She thinks this is impossible and that I am such a silly foreigner...how could one not like Spanish ham?!?! So she says that her husband can get really great hams from a small town outside of Cordoba and writes down his name and number on a piece of paper for me. She then rummages through her purse and hands me a brochure for a bed and breakfast in the country where you can go hiking and see 'another side of spain'. I thanked the kind woman, pocketed the number and brochure and started asking the man that was helping me if he knew, more or less, when the packages would arrive. He had no idea, said that in a row boat they would take a long time to get there, and concluded by telling me that I should call about the Spanish ham. Meanwhile, the line of holiday package senders has grown to over 30 people, all of whom are glaring at my roommate and me for taking so long at the window. I quickly pay and ask for the receipt, check again if he can give me an ETA, to which he again answers that he has no idea, thank the woman for her 'help', smile and head past the frustrated mass of people waiting to be helped.

After leaving I couldn't help but walk down the street and look at my roomate wide eyed and mouth gaping. I told him that I don't think this would have ever happened in the United States. My roommate says this is part of the 'charm' of Spain, to which I replied that it is not charming if you are one of the other 30 people waiting in line to be helped and you are watching not just one, but two, workers talk about ham instead of send packages (and unfortunately, I am usually one of the ones in line). He continues to think it is great, that the Spanish are so nice and friendly, and that we Americans are so serious and impersonal. I don't know what you would call this difference, but it definitely impacts my daily experiences here and is one that I note perhaps more than all others. And maybe one I will miss when I get home. Then again, maybe not.