![](http://i123.photobucket.com/albums/o289/admalta/Log_Poste_belge.jpg)
For instance, I paid a visit to the post office yesterday. My first visit had already been comical enough, with me not understanding which button on the machine to push and finally being helped by a lovely old man who had undoubtedly been watching my cluelessness with no small degree of amusement.
Armed with my new knowledge, I strode in confidently yesterday . . . only to find a large number of fellow postal patrons sitting around like it was the DMV - camping out, reading, smoking, picknicking . . . .
I decided to take a ticket anyway, even if just to exercise my newly learned skill. But the number on my ticket was so much higher than the one on the screen that I decided to go to run some errands instead. A few errands and a pilates class later, I remembered that I still had my ticket from the post office. About two hours had passed. I decided to give it a shot. I only had to wait a few minutes until my number got called. While it worked out this time, I have absolutely no idea how real Belgians live their daily lives.
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