Today we ordered lunch from the café in our apartment block, and had a little surprise when the owner said, “Oh, I’ve got a package for you!” As in, from the post office.
Turns out the hairdresser, whose shop is next to the café, had closed up for a day and asked the café owner to take her mail for her. Now, the hairdresser has the same first and second names as my wife. When the postal clerk came by, she said she had a package for J., and the café owner assumed she meant the hairdresser. So he said, “You can leave that here, I’m taking her mail for her today.”
He delivered the package to the hairdresser the next day. She opened it and quickly realized it was not hers, and when she brought it back to the café, the owner realized his mistake.
So, we’ve received our package after a one-day delay, courtesy of our local café. And this is one of the things I love about Portugal — the small, family-owned businesses, whose owners know all of their customers and most of the nearby residents. Even in the cities, there is a small-town feel within the various neighborhoods. As my wife says, the Portuguese love that comfort.
So do I.