You Must Bring Us A Shubbery!

Sometimes, accomplishing relatively straightforward tasks can be an undertaking in a different part of the world. Sometimes it can be like a Monty Python Quest. We had one of those today. Mom and I want to bring our walking sticks back to the States. We bought them in St. Jean when we started our trek, and they make a good souvenir, especially since they are now soaked with enough of our own sweat and blood to almost be a relative. But walking sticks do not transport easily, so our quest today was to find a box to put the sticks in to check them as luggage for our return. We also needed to get our pilgrimage certificates, find a bag I could pack my stuff in so I won't have to check luggage, and search for one last pastry to enjoy before we go our separate ways.

The pilgrim credential was the easiest, and we accomplished that right after breakfast. We asked in the pilgrim office what they recommended for shipping our walking sticks. They suggested we go to the post office (sounds logical, yes?) and gave us directions. We then returned to the hotel to get our sticks, and thought we'd ask at the concierge desk, to get their opinion. They also suggested the post office, but said that if that was a no go then they would help us pack it up to check as luggage.

The post office informed us that the sticks were too long to ship and referred us to a private shipping company - on the other side of town. They gave us somewhat vague directions, but after a half-hour of walking and searching, we found the shipping office we were looking for, as well as made note of a cafe for our next cup of coffee, and the Spanish equivalent of a dollar store to look for a carry-on for me.

The shipping office in question informed us that the only shipped to Peninsular Spain and referred us to...UPS right around the corner, which actually turned out to be a Mail Boxes Etc, of all things. Walking in to the MBE was like coming home - it was like walking into a store in the US, and I found myself thinking "Finally, a place I know how things are going to work". It's funny how, even if you are familiar with a country and it's customs, you are constantly reminded by a thousand little unspoken things that you are a stranger in a strange land. It's the exact feeling I get when I go to someplace north of the Mason-Dixon line. :-)

The UPS folks were most helpful. The walking sticks may actually beat me home, and it only cost three times what we paid for the sticks to ship them. Still, we do not have to worry about packing them, hauling them, or dealing with them in customs and airports, so I consider it money well spent. Quest completed!

The cup of coffee and mid-morning snack (that is, almost noon) took place in a cafe called, ironically enough, Alabama. The waiter, however, said that the name was coincidence. I can't imagine why anyone in northern Spain would coincidentally pick that as the name for a cafe if there wasn't some connection, but stranger things have happened. The dollar store adventure was also a success. Eight Euros later, I have a carry on bag, and nothing to check for the return trip. This will hopefully speed my passage through immigration and customs in New York tomorrow and allow me to make my connection.

All in all it has been a perfect, restful last day, with no agenda other than what I've listed above. I find it funny that the last time I was in Santiago it was about 55 degrees and raining...in March. This time, it's 55 and raining...in July. I'm pretty sure this is Al Gore's fault. After all, he practically invented the Internet and discovered global warming, right?

The Quest for the Final Pastry was also successful, and we have retreated to our temporary castle to siesta, pack, and blog. We will sally forth one final time in search of souvenirs for those stateside and for some light nourishment. My wake up call is 0-dark-30 to catch a pre-7am plane, Mom and Dad have the luxury of an afternoon train back to Madrid. By the time they arrive there, I will be landing in New York.