Redefining “Air Mail”

I have many stories about the snail-mail here in Andalusia.  Packages disappear.  Strange taxes appear.  Our mailman became the Mayor.   But our new mailman in Tarifa has taken bizarre to new heights.  3.37 meters high to be exact.

When I arrived home from the school run Friday there was a large package on the ground inside my locked patio.  How exciting. How strange.  How did it get there?

No one witnessed this mystery unfold so I can only assume this chain of events:

  • Mailman arrives to deliver a package.
  • Mailman rings bell, no one answers.
  • Mailman decides carrying package back to truck would be labour intensive and unsatisfying.
  • So, mailman throws large package 3 meters and 37 centimeters over the wall where large package drops onto the cement floor of my patio.

I measured. He threw it 3.37 meters in the air. That’s a little over 11 feet for those of you who don’t speak metric.

I can picture Mr.  Mailman looking at the wall, looking at the package, looking at the wall.  He probably turned the box around, searching for clues of its contents.  He gave it a little shake, muttering, “Doesn’t sound breakable”.  Then he took one last glance for witnesses, declared,  “F@&% it” and he pitched it over the wall.

My only question is whether the box made it over on his first toss, or if it bounced back onto the street a few time before clearing the wall.

Given my history with the Spanish mail service this experience leaves me elated.  The package arrived. It arrived in a timely fashion with no additional charges.  I did not have to stand in a line.

Thank goodness it was Lego and not a new laptop.




  1. Meanwhile, in the small-town north, I have to traipse off to the post office to pick up my little pack of markers for class. Sounds like the Andalu’ have it all figured out.

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