Note to everyone:

DON'T SEND ME MAIL.

Yonatan, public shoutout, thank you SO much.

But, I didn't actually get my package.

Maybe I should backtrack a bit.

Eliah tells me that there's a notice in our post office box saying I got a package. He tried to get it for me but they wouldn't let him. So, I decide to take the day to go to the post office and gather my package. I say 'take the day' because I'd been warned by others that the post office here is a nightmare.

Wasn't warned enough...

So I get into a cab. First, I get dropped off at the wrong place. After walking around a bit I see a sign for the post office. I enter a dimly lit building. No lines, order, or signs, just people milling around. I try to ask someone where the PO Boxes are. Fail. Finally, I call my friend Roni who says something about going outside, finding room 31, and taking it from there.

I walk outside to a courtyard. Tons of people around (doing nothing). This place is a maze of dark, decrepit rooms and smelly hallways. Somehow, I find room 31. Am told to go to room 34 instead. I enter, tell them I have a package. The guy takes me to the room and leaves me there. Oh, okay, I'm expected to find it on my own. So there I am, in a room of hundreds of packages sifting through, looking for my name. No go.

I find the worker and am told to 'maybe' go to room 29. I go to room 29 but wait, it's just the office part, not the actual room. So I find the actual room and am told I need the slip of paper that says I have a package. I get lost for 15 minutes and find the post boxes. The nice didi there helps me find the correct one and I go back to room 29, slip in hand, and show the guy behind the counter.

'We need your passport,' he says. I produce my passport (I'd been forewarned).

'Now we need a copy of your passport.' The slip to redeem it doesn't mention needing one. But the guy doesn't care. Okay, so I'm near to tears. I walk out of the office and wander around looking for a photocopy machine place. After 40 minutes I have not found a place. Frustrated, I walk back to the post office and tell the counter guy that I couldn't find anything. 'Oh,' he says. 'There's a photocopy machine here.' (Yea?Thanks for telling me that before.....). I walk to another room. 'You can't use the photocopy machine' the guy says. Ready to scream, I walk back to tell counter guy.He sends a didi with me back to the other office to see if she can use the photocopy machine. After a long debate, they don't let her either. I am so close to jumping over and just using the darn machine myself.

We walk back to the counter. Tell the guy what happened. 'Just go get your package,' he says.

I'm elated and I walk in, show the worker my slip and he finds a small package. Just seeing something from home makes me happy. 'But wait', he says, 'you need to get a signature of approval- go to the counter.' I walk back to counter guy and tell him. 'No,' he says. 'I can't sign because you don't have a copy of your passport.'

So now I lose it.

I start BAWLING. Everyone stares. Tears are streaming down my face and the guy just stands there, gaping. I would have grabbed the package and ran but he was holding it. As it was, I took the slip, crumpled it up and threw it away.

Then, with some final yelling (In English, Hebrew, and Nepali) I gave up. And walked out.

Sans package.

And they now have the slip to redeem it.

And on the way home the taxi I was in broke down.

But, the meeting with the Minister and AutismCares was great. I think he's going to try to get them government support, and also, he gave them a slot to present at a conference on special education in late February. Still crazy that we, an Israeli organization, needed to connect a Nepali minister with his Nepali constituents.

Last story:

Yesterday, Beruria and I had to make breakfast. It's always tricky buying groceries here because Swoyambhu (our neighborhood) is the monkey capital of Kathmandu. So we're walking home, surrounded by serene Tibetan men and women making pilgrimage to the local temple, and Beruria is carrying a bag of eggs. All of a sudden, out of the corner of my eye, I see agiant monkey leaping across the street towards us. I freeze as it jumps onto Beruria, who promptly SHRIEKS, throws her hands in the air, and drops all of her groceries, eggs included.

I'm still frozen when, out of nowhere, the (seemingly serene) aforementioned Tibetan women kick into gear. Three of them race towards us, SCREAMING and waving their hands to scare the monkey runs away. One of them has a rock in her hand, another pulls out a slingshot. I kid you not. They gather up our eggs, take us off to the side, provide us with a new bag and the wise advice "Put in shawl, yes?"

So while Nepal's post office might have been the most traumatic experience in recent years, you can't help but love a place where elderly Tibetan women turn into wild Amazons to help you.

Only in Nepal...