Yesterday, January 22 (yes, it matters), I returned from my typical morning errands to a lone piece of mail. It was from the Deutsch Post and was, of course, in German. I could make out some of it. Customs. Package. Bill Bupp. Miami (...Miami?). An address and hours of operation.
Flashback:
My parents were determined to have their gifts to our family arrive in time for Christmas. As Black Friday turned into Cyber Monday, their shopping for us was complete. By the time we were all opening our first advent window, the booty had arrived in DeWitt and the painstaking task of wrapping and bundling (did you know you can fit a sleeve of cars and a three pack of bibs inside one Hunter boot?!) the items for their transport across the Atlantic had begun. On December 8, a fully insured, Christmas box of goodies was on its way to Germany. Plenty of time. Plenty. My dad opted for updates on the package's progress across the globe. On December 10, it arrived in Chicago to go through US Customs. Here we go!...
Could it be? The Christmas Package--the one that has been on its way for a month and a half? I looked at the clock. 10:36 am. Could I get to Oberursel and back in time to pick up Nathan at 12:15 pm? Damn right. Cue the Mission Impossible music. I pushed back my plans for a much needed shower and plopped Evy and her carseat back in the car.
I turned down the road to Oberursel. Victory was within reach! I was so happy. I realized that this rush of good news was very much needed and I started to cry. I got to thinking, you go round after round with whatever little German mystery needs to be solved and do your best to stay flexible and not lose it and roll with the punches:
-Stovetop breaks the day before Evy is born and we have to cook on induction hot plates for three days while having a newborn and guests--I got this.
-Shower head snaps off and Kyle and I shower in what can best be described as a very large "drinking fountain arc of water"--I got this.
Then one, little victory can make you realize you've been holding your proverbial breath throughout much of this expat adventure. You are reminded that there wasn't always 26 steps to everything, there wasn't always a translator involved, there wasn't always a conversion needed. You weren't always guessing. You didn't always have to do everything twice. It used to be easy and understandable. Getting the mail in the US never brought me to tears, but it was never this much work. And it was in English.
During the 15 minutes I waited in line at the Post, I rehearsed what I would say in my best broken German. "Ich heiße Shelby Crockett. Ich bin hier für dieses Paket."
(My name is Shelby and I am here for this package.) Finally, it's my turn.
The kind Frau looks up and smiles.
Wait for it...
"Nein." (No.)
I was in the wrong place. So much for small victories. A couple sets of slippery not-built-to-code staircases and I would have myself a true Korean-type adventure.
The kind Frau points me across the parking lot--I got this. Cue the Mission Impossible music. Again.
Another 15 minutes and it's my turn again. I was with people who were importing cars on a car hauler...what did they think was in my package, I wonder!?
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| Stamping Frau behind the plant with the Imported Cars outside the window |
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| Merry Christmas! |
I am instructed to open the package in front of what I think is a notary-type person with lots of stamping going on. I do so. The stamping Frau sees all the wrapped presents and lets out a sympathetic sigh. She tells her assistant who then tells me that we need to establish the value of each item and that I will have to pay 17.9% of the value.
Then Evy needed to eat. So I fed her. For stamping Frau and her assistant, life hit fast forward and values were rounded, estimated and tallied almost as quickly as my card was swiped. Let me tell you, there is nothing that clears customs faster than a package full of gift wrapped items belonging to an American breastfeeding her daughter while standing. One of the guys even carried my package to my car for me. Shush, Swaddle and Sway--I got this.
:) sbc
