There are many things that you have to get used to living on an island that has a slow pace of life, and an extremely laid back mentality. However, I also believe that it is 2013, and simple things like receiving my post is not rocket science. I appreciate that I will not have it brought to my door, as I have a long drive, however, getting it in the post box would be a start.
When we moved to Casa Chaos one of my first questions was where was the post box, and I was directed to a tree on the road, where there was a number of old post boxes hammered to the tree. On closer inspection none had numbers names or basic details, so I pondered how the hell the postman knew where to put the post. I also had no idea which post box was mine, which was confusing, so we asked one of the other houses.
They assured me that the post box I was ripping off the tree was in fact ours, but when we finally opened it I was concerned that it had no post for us, yet post for every other house within a 2 mile radius. But undeterred, I bought a nice new shiny box, and just in case the postman was a bit slow, I wrote in big letter the address on the box.
I was expecting post, so checked the box every few days, being out in the culo del mundo, I knew they wouldn't deliver every day, but after two weeks and nothing in the box, I was concerned. So, I visited the post office. This is an experience in itself, which I attempt to avoid at all costs, therefore, I was not in the best of moods when I entered the building.
The post lady informed me that she had no idea, and to phone the other post office, where the post delivery person was. I rang them, and after a long, argument, it appeared that my house, the big white building that we live in does not exist. Therefore, although they saw the box, read the address, could not put the post in the box, as the house wasn't there.
Frustration hit an all time high, I went to the town hall, got the deeds, printed off Google maps, returned to the post office, but no, according tot he inbred postman, our house was not there. His claim apparently was backed up by 17 generations of Canarians, who all agreed that our house was simply not there.
Numerous visits, much shouting, and several heated discussions, led to an agreement being made that involved the postman standing at the post boxes, seeing if our post was there, and pretending our house existed All he had to do was put our bloody post in the box that corresponded with the address on the letter. A trained monkey could perform this task.....and he managed it for 6 weeks, until we got a new postman!!