And then there are those times when it all works out.

When I got in the taxi at 11:25, I had all but given up hope to get to the post office before they closed for the afternoon break at noon. After twenty minutes of searching for a motorcycle to take me and then giving up to wait for a car after I learned it was some kind of motorcycle taxi holiday today, I had finally found someone who would take me the 20 kilometers to Savalou.

The thing about taxis is they like to stop. To pick up more people. To pick up some bags of yams that need to be taken to Cotonou, To “Hi” to someone they know. The fastest I had ever gotten to Savalou by taxi was a half hour, which would put me at five minutes before the post office closed. Based on my previous experience with the work ethic in Benin, I doubted the post office would still be open even it was five minutes until they closed.

We stopped three minutes after we left the taxi station to pick up some more people. This put us at seven, the usual capacity. Some hope was renewed that this meant we wouldn’t be stopping again.

We didn’t.

We didn’t stop for yams, the gendarmie or to say “Hi.”

With a record breaking time, I got to the post office at 11:42. The man working was the one who knows me by face. He happily handed me my three letters and two padded envelopes.

Then I ran into my favorite motorcycle taxi driver from my village who offered to wait for me to bring me back home when I was finished.

Then the boutique in Savalou had both Nutella-knockoff and oatmeal.

Then the cyber cafe printed my tests for my students in less than 15 minutes.

Then my driver got home in enough time to make a spaghetti omelet, eat a spaghetti omelet, watch an episode of the West Wing, take a nap and write a blog before my afternoon class.

I have nothing more to ask from Benin today.