The Birthday Package Saga

So Dad mailed me my first care package back in July hoping it would arrive for my birthday on August 8th. He and the girls filled it with some treats for me, you see.

Unfortunately, the delivery slip did not arrive at our post office until about August 15th or so and Tina and I were away. When we came back I thought I'd try to pick it up, but the first hurdle was finding the post office. The next was finding the part of it where you are allowed to pick up packages. Having fnally accomplished these two tasks I was then told I would need to bring a photocopy of my passport in order to pick up the package. Unfortunately, the photocopier was not working (or even actually there...) at the time.

The next time I came I just so happened to have a photocopy of my passport (long story, had to do with my VISA extension story which is a saga in and of itself that I'll relay in a different post) with me so that worked fine. I navigated around the little market and flock of chickens that guard the entry way to the back of the post office where the packages are kept. When I finally got to the front of the wicket (its not really a line, just people mashed up against a wicket. With some determination and elbowing, one eventually gets an audience with the wicket lady), I presented my materials only to be told that I would need a photocopy of my national ID, not my passport... but after achieving the correct ratio of pleading look to incredulous glare the wicket lady had mercy on me and went to retrieve my package.

She then handed me a giant steak knife with which to slice open the box so that she could both admire the contents and duly tax me on each one.

This is what we found:

 Ziplock bags!!! Wohoo! Have already put these to good use...

 A fabulous singing birthday card :)

 SNACKS!!! (sorry guys, they were pretty stale upon arrival. At least the ones that weren't in ziplock backs. Haven't tried these ones yet)

 Kool-aid :)

These were the stale ones

Ah cereal. I immediately opened this and transferred its contents to one of the ziplock bags. It saved my life this last weekend as I spent 3 hours stranded on the highway between Kumasi and Accra because my trotro broke down. They truly are magically delicious at those moments. 

 Hahaha... the I Love Guyana whistle is my favourite. Will have to use that when being harassed by the Court Registrar. 

Yay! Toothpaste, tums and skittles! Now that's a party :)