Since we had arrived in Nepal I was looking forward to a package of goodies sent off by my awesome mom. The goodies ranged from a WORKING compass to a spare pair of underwear (after 10 days on the river where there was no shower in sight, that new pair of undies couldn’t be more welcome). So when we first arrived in Kathmandu after our rafting trip, I was pretty psyched. It was our first care package.

Now, finding an address to send the package to was a little tough. G and I weren’t going to be staying in any one place long enough to have it shipped to a guest house, so I decided the next best thing was to have my mom address the package to a business. The business was the same company we had booked our elephant safari with. Unfortunately, there was a bit of a communication breakdown when it came to informing the Ultimate Descents employees that I had a package arriving from overseas. There was much repeating of the phrase: “No I don’t want to BOOK a package” as well as an upper body charade illustrating what a package should look like with my hands.

A couple of weeks later, when I stopped by the Ultimate Descents’ Kathmandu office, I was informed that a package had arrived. After my last communication with the company, I was doubtful the package would ever make it into my hands. To my surprise, the package didn’t actually arrive at the business’ location, it was waiting at the post office. The next thing I knew I was in a rickshaw with an Ultimate Descents employee en route to pick up the aforementioned package.

After a hair-raising 30 minutes by bicycle rickshaw, a trip that involved more dodging than moving, we made it to a gated complex. It was something akin to a concentration camp, you know, something straight out of World War II. It stood as a mountain of cement, perfectly structured to house an ambush from all sides. Inside I was sure I was going to see the Third Reich’s armies flood me with a rain of fire.

We walked past some accident-battered buses painted a fading and putrid army green, and into a small building just within the walls of the complex. This building housed all of the smaller post office boxes. Since we were here, the Ultimate Descents employee took the opportunity to check the mail. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a slip saying that my package was waiting to be picked up. I was slightly crushed, knowing that some packages that go into the Asian postal systems are never to be seen again.

After the employee gathered the dusty mail and I had a chance to thoroughly inspect the poor excuses for locks on each of the individual boxes, we proceeded to another room. Here there was much Nepali spoken, my name butchered with each iteration, and an eventual “show me passport” which I did, hoping they would finally get my name right. It took a moment for them to figure out that I was from the USA, and then they proceeded to gather all the boxes from the US inside a tiny room. During the search they threw the boxes around much in the same fashion you’d throw trash into a bin: with little regard for whatever fragility the contents of the box contained. Unfortunately, no dice. The Ultimate Descents employee said “no to worry, we check someplace else” as we proceeded to walk out of this building and into another one.

Inside there was a reception area with an L-shaped desk about 10 feet long. The room was massive, making the desk look small. There was a clerk at this desk, who I will now refer to as #1. After explaining the situation to the clerk, the Ultimate Descents employee, clerk, and I went back to a room hidden just behind the reception desk. The Lonely Planet we had with us warned about the length of time it takes to receive packages in Nepal and after seeing this room I no longer had to wonder why it would take months at a time for anything to arrive.

The room was filled with packages stacked from floor to ceiling in a fashion I could not understand. The numbers on each of the boxes were not incrementing or decrementing, and, from what I could tell, were nothing more than just stacks of boxes lined up just enough so that the clerks wouldn’t be killed in an avalanche of cardboard. #1 continued to a small desk that seemed to be the most organized. On top of the desk was a manila folder that contained package receipts. #1 started looking through the receipts and found my name 2 or 3 papers in. I was relieved, since this meant the package had indeed arrived. I was handed this sheet of paper, and told to go back out into the reception. This is where the fun began.

At this point, #1 said he needed a copy of my passport to show that it was indeed me who received the package. The Ultimate Descents employee helped me out by getting that photo copy, and I was directed to another room off to the right, room #31 to be exact. Here I showed a copy of the package receipt to a group of 6 non-English speaking Nepalis. One of them, who I will refer to as #2, waved me over, saw the receipt, and handed me a carbon filled stack of papers while saying “25 rupees”. I think this was an application fee? Next he proceeded to charade me into filling out the form. When I looked down I noticed the entire form was in Nepalese. After asking for an English form, I was again presented with a charade to fill out the Nepali form. A blank look formed on my face, and an impatient look formed on #2′s. I’m not quite sure why, but I must have interrupted a very important discussion between this group of work-deprived employees.

Fortunately for me, the package receipt had all the needed information, so #2 proceeded to ‘connect the dots’, pointing to each boxed section and then to the information on the package receipt. After the second box I started to wonder why he didn’t just do it for me. The last thing needed was my signature, which he charaded with an ‘air signature’. Once this was complete he pointed out the door, and down the hallway to the next station with a decisive jabbing motion. Having no idea what he actually meant, I went out the door, looked around, pointed to the application form while looking at #1 and was told to go back into the room I just came from. After more blank looks, #2 pointed again in the direction I was supposed to go. I went out the door looking more confused than ever, checked with #1 again, and then went back into the room. The gentleman sitting right next to #2 waved me over, and took my application. Apparently I wasn’t supposed to go next door, I was supposed to go to the next person in the line who I will now call #3. From here #3 checked the form, wrote something in Nepalese, then pointed me to another clerk, #4, who sat no more than five feet in front of #3. I gave #4 the form, he glanced at it, gave it back and told me to see #3 again. Five. Feet. Away.

After looking over it a second time, #3 told me to go back outside and talk to #1. I went outside, and there was, by some grace of the organizational god, a package with my name on it. #1 then took my application and told me to go on the other side of the desk. I’m not entirely sure the purpose of this 5-foot walk since each side of this L-shaped desk had the same amount of space, but I obliged. Then #1 asked me if he could open it, and as I said yes, he pulled out this ridiculously over-sized, Crocodile Dundee knife and made a 1-inch incision, ripping the rest of the tape open. #1 then went to grab #3, who walked a whole 10 feet to inspect the contents of the box. After a whopping 3 seconds, he walked back into room 31. #1 then told me I needed to go back into room 31 to see #3.

I went back into the little room with 6 useless people, and went straight to #3 who said “60 rupees.” Now, I’m not entirely sure what this was for, but I’m thinking it had something to do with customs taxes, or a contribution to the sacred postal temple. After writing on the application a second time, #3 told me to go see #1 again. After seeing #1, I was told to sign the back of my package receipt with a name and address. Then, out of nowhere, a masculine woman appeared and with a gruff voice told me to sign a book. As I signed, she barked “10 rupees”. I have no idea what the hell this was for, though it seemed like I was paying for space for my signature… After this, #1 then handed me my box of goodies. I held on to that box like gold until I arrived back at the guest house…. where I grabbed G and rushed to the nearest bar.