An Unexpected Egyptian Adventure: The Post Office

I had arranged to be taken to the post office. I had 13 postcards to stamp and mail. Abul, my guide on the day I made this request, complied with good humour. But I have no doubt he was thinking loudly to himself “For this I got a degree in Egyptology?” I figured we go in, we buy 13 international stamps, stick them on and off we go.

Not quite.

Abdul took a number. Next thing I knew, he was standing at the counter – without me. I hadn’t heard a number called. He had suggested that I stay in the car too, which I didn’t. I think he thought things would proceed more smoothly without me. He might have been right.

There was a long discussion between Abdul and the guy at the counter. Guy 1 went to get another guy. More long discussions. Guy 2 went to another counter. Abdul followed. I followed Abdul.

Another long debate. Abdul asked me how many stamps I wanted and I said 30, thinking I’d do two lots of postcards, and this would save me another trip to the post office.

Abdul turned around and told Guy 2. Guy 2 said something. Abdul turned to me and said “2800 Egyptian pounds”. That’s about $125 Canadian.

My mouth fell open. Guy 2 turned his computer screen so I could see for myself.

We all stayed silent for a moment. Me out of shock, or maybe respect for the Egyptian Postal Service which clearly knows how to make a buck off tourists. I think the other two were silently staring at me out of curiosity to see how far I was going to carry this postcard madness.

Alrighty then. I decided to get enough stamps for 15 postcards, which would let me mail two more. I would keep the rest of the postcards I’d bought – souvenirs not only of the sites I’d bought them at but of this lunatic experience.

Guy 2 disappeared to the back room. He came back with sheets and sheets of stamps. Some got within reach, so I grabbed a strip, tore one off, licked it and fixed it on the first postcard. Both Abdul and Guy 2 started gesticulating and saying no. No, no! I didn’t need to speak Arabic to figure out this was a great big NO.

There was another long wait while Guy 2 and Abdul consulted. It turned out I needed 16 stamps per card. Sixteen.

I started laughing. By the time the 16 stamps go on the postcard and bearing in mind that we have to keep the address clear, the photos and messages will be lost. However, I was committed now. I was picturing my relatives and friends getting a cardboard rectangle with their name and address and nothing else visible except a mess of Egyptian stamps. They weren’t even particularly nice stamps.

Again, I grabbed stamps and again got shouted down.

There was another stage wait while Guy 2 did some more mysterious things, and counted and re-counted the stamps. Because 13 times 16 is – I dunno, a whole lot of stamps. He started wiping the backs of a strip of stamps across a little sponge in a small glass dish. Okay, I thought, I guess the regulations are such that he has to put the stamps on himself.

He turned the card over to the back where I had used most of the available space for the address and message. Holding his many, many stamps, now dripping water and curling up, he asked me where I want him to put them.

I was almost choking with laughter at that point. Among us, we gestured and pointed and suggested and the stamps got put on leaving at least some parts of the card visible.

Next thing, Guy 2 was motioning behind us and to our right. Abdul looked hesitant, inquired for clarification and still looking hesitant, told me to come. We went outside, he looked to the right and started down an alley – ooookay, what is going on??

Oh well, all part of life’s rich pageant as Inspector Clouseau said. In for a penny, in for a pound.

When I arrived, I saw he was entering the back of a building. I followed and found myself in the back part of the Post Office, behind the counters. Guy 2 motioned us into an office which looked like an interrogation room. Abdul told me to sit down.

I honestly had a moment wondering if I was going to be arrested for unauthorized stamp licking.

But no, in came Guy 2 with my stamps, postcards, and the little glass dish with the wet sponge in it. He motioned Abdul to sit down. Abdul gave me half the postcards and off we both went fixing 16 stamps to each of 13 postcards.

I put an extra one on one of the cards by accident. When we finished, which as you would imagine, took quite a while, Abdul became focused on making sure I had my extra stamps. I kept telling him to forget it, and that I had accidentally put an extra one on one of the cards. But he made me count all the stamps on all the postcards. When Guy 2 came back, Abdul told him I was short 2 stamps. Guy 2 then proceeded to count all the stamps on all the postcards.

When he found the extra one I had put on my accident, he peeled it off and handed it to me. I’m still laughing writing this.

He then went out, came back after a bit and solemnly handed me three more stamps, which were apparently of a different value.

Because he told me to put one and a half stamps on with the other 15, on my next postcard.

Guy 1 then reappeared and there was another discussion. They asked something of Abdul, who passed on to me that they wanted to know if the cards were addressed. Arabic writing of course, bears no relationship to ours. This made me wonder what the chances are of these cards getting out of Egypt.

Abdul prompted me to give Guy 2 a tip (I’m sure in Canada that would constitute a bribe). The smallest bill I had was a hundred. That’s less than five bucks Canadian, but he looked like I’d given him the moon. I made a “because you were so great” face and gesture. He then offered me something to drink. I really wanted to be getting on with my tours. The driver was waiting through all this. But I knew it would be an insult if I refused.

So that is how I ended up having tea with an official of the Egyptian postal service in the back room of an Egyptian post office. It’s this kind of thing that makes me love travel.

I took a cup of tea. Guy 2 had an espresso and Abdul had nothing. We chatted for a bit. As soon as I reasonably could, I got up, we exchanged many compliments and farewells and we left.

Oh yeah, and through all this, a young woman who came in after us and sat opposite Abdul at the desk, was grimly writing her name on a stack of forms on the other side of the desk and did not look up once or react at all to this silliness.

It was like a Monty Python sketch.

Now to see if the cards actually show up.