Going Postal

Although I live in Chinatown, for the most part, I am pretty removed from the neighborhood's activity. I work in the Loop, shop on Roosevelt, and play in Wrigleyville. Aside from the occasional foray to buy soy milk, I could go weeks without stepping foot on Cermak. This morning, in a moment of extreme naivete, I decided to swing by the Chinatown post office. I needed to mail a package, and didn't feel like waiting until Monday to go to a post office downtown. When I arrived, the line was almost out the door, as one postal clerk worked the counter. (45) minutes began to tick by.

It soon became apparent why the line was moving so slowly. A combination of language barriers and bureaucratic hurdles meant that even simple tasks, like buying stamps, were long and arduous. I watched as a woman bought 20 stamps, then explained that she actually wanted a second sheet of 20 stamps. To give credit to the post office worker, she was being exceedingly patient with each customer, taking time to explain the details as the line continued to grow.

USPS accepts passport applications, and you can imagine a fair number of immigrants are hoping to apply for passports, so they can visit their families abroad and whatnot. It's kind of ironic that non-English speakers are forced to disentangle bureaucratic hoops (passports, citizenship applications) more often than native Americans. A family presented their paperwork at the counter, and the clerk tried to explain what kinds of IDs were acceptable, and what the emergency contact information was for. "You can't put yourself down for the emergency contact," she chided, "aren't you going to be traveling with the kids?" The mother nodded yes. "Well then, you need to put down someone else. Do you have a sister? Someone outside of the family?" The family huddled together, trying to recall a relative's phone number. The father solemnly raised his hand as the postal clerk read the passport oath aloud.

The next man carried a large box and was followed by a teenage girl who translated for him. "What's in the package?" asked the clerk. "Books? What kinds of books? I need to open the box and take a look, ok?" She unsealed the carton and pulled out several books. "What are these about?" she asked. The girl replied, "Ah, this is a recipe book. And that one is about making money." The clerk consulted a sheet with restrictions listed. "I'm sorry," she said, "but you can't mail that book about making money. It's 'printed matter,' and they don't allow printed matter with political or economic content into China." She continued rummaging through the box, and pulled out some clothing. "Is this used clothing? You can't send that either. This pair of jeans is fine because it still has the tags on it." The girl hastily said that the other shirts were new as well. "It doesn't have the tags on it though, do you still have the tags? Otherwise it's used, and you can't send it. These are Chinese government restrictions." In the end, they left the post office with the package unmailed.

Curious, I looked up what exactly is banned for mail shipment to China. Among the usual restrictions against radioactive materials and arms, China bans the mailing of media "which could do political, economical, cultural, or moral harm to the People’s Republic of China," along with a number of seemingly innocuous consumer goods, like wristwatches and cameras. Moreover, the value of each shipment cannot exceed 100 RMB, which at a conversion rate of about 8 yuan to $1, comes to around $12.50. So much for mailing that camera.