Mailing address?

Where do we live? Terra Branca.
Originally uploaded by mralles

The care packages for The Ralles Adventure abound in Cape Verde, most often sent by our mothers, followed by our close, personal friends at Amazon.com. We are privileged to have the use of the “diplomatic pouch” for our mailing needs and desires. This means that packages are sent to a Virginia mailing address and forwarded on to us for no additional cost. Typically we receive packages within two weeks to a month, barring any major issues. There are some size and weight limitations and contents can not contain liquids, batteries, aerosol, or plant matter (this one we learned the hard way by trying to ship our Obama Chia Pet). These limitations, however, are overshadowed by the feeling we get opening a box containing tortilla chips, Girl Scout cookies, or in my case adorable plastic dishes especially for Pool Fridays.

My mom and Aunt Jane were musing about ways to send us contraband items, like my hair conditioner, and asked if they could just send it to my Cape Verdean “mailing address.” I replied, “What mailing address?” It is true, we have no address. In fact, I have no idea what street I live on. Cape Verde does have a postal system, but there is no traditional mail carrier service. If you want mail, you have to go to the post office and rent a mailbox for an annual fee. Mail is very inconsistent, like other public services in the developing world. For example, our friend Kelly has not yet received her Christmas present from her family but her husband Ná has been sporting his Seattle soccer jersey since January. The gifts were either sent separately, or Kelly's parents like Ná more, the jury is out.

This concept of no address truly baffled my mom and aunt and so they asked, “If people want to come to your home, how do you tell them where you live?” Well, I tell them I live in Terra Branca, our neighborhood. At the circle (and they would just know which one I am referring to), I instruct them to turn up the hill where the sign points to Terra Branca, then make a right at the pink building and the first left at the building with blue trim. Stay to the right and I live in the house with the green door. Hilarious aside: As I was typing the cable people called and needed directions to the house, which I communicated in my poor Kriolu, and guess what? Even they could find me.

Another question was from Aunt Jane, “So if you were going to call a taxi, what would you tell them?” Well, I have only called a taxi one time since living in our new house, to go to the airport when Rachel Sher and I caught our early flight to Sal, another island. Again, in my terrible Kriolu, I described where I lived. The cab driver, Pepa, was very excited because he too lives in Terra Branca. He wanted to be sure he knew where I was so came over on foot that very evening, knocked on the door, and enthusiastically said he would be at that very spot the next morning at 4:30 am.

I guess I have learned two things from writing this blog post: 1. Street names, largely unimportant. But maybe that is because this city is about the size of my college campus. 2. My terrible Kriolu is not that terrible if people seem to find me just fine.

When you all come visit, we will make the 11 minute trip to the airport and will not force you to find your way around a town void of street names. See you soon!