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Yesterday afternoon I braved the Israeli post office for the first time, in order to pick up the package that my parents sent me for Hanukkah. Due to the fact that the post office hours are Very Very similar to the hours that I have class, I had received the notice that I had a package waiting for me nearly a week prior, but only managed to be free when the post office was open on Wednesday. So, armed with directions from Google, I set off- apparently it was only a 15 minute walk.
The beginning of the walk was fine, through territory I knew a bit from visiting with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jakal88's aunt and uncle who live just a few blocks away. And in fact, I ran into his aunt walking their younger son home from school on the way. It was a good thing that I did, because what Google maps document as a street named Ben Baba does not actually become anything ressembling a street (even by the looser Jerusalem standards, by which many vaguely paved footpaths are named streets) until a number of blocks after where I was expecting it to be a clearly visible path. Instead, following the advice I was given, I found my way up through a series of stairs and sidewalks in between houses.
Once I got to real roads again, I did just fine, until it came time to find the post office itself. After walking for a while and not finding it, I asked an older lady walking by me on the street. She gave me directions- it turns out that the post office is inside the local little shopping plaza building, not visible from outside. After she gave me directions, another man called out "Doar?" (mail), and proceeded to give me the same directions again. With their help, I found the post office, and successfully was only cut in line by one set of people. After my indignant and mildly confused look, the gentleman behind them very kindly made sure that he didn't cut me as well.
Walking home was uneventful, and then I got to open my box. Having told Mom that I was finding the wardrobe that I had brought with me to Israel rather boring, I had both hopes and fears about what she might have picked out for me. For the most part, my hopes were well rewarded- I am now the owner of a fun gauzy over-shirt-thing (somewhat hard to define, but quite exciting in appearance for me), various sorts of pajamas (she remembered that I needed more of them before I left), an orange button down shirt, a striped overshirt/tank-top/vest, a rather inexplicable black t-shirt with bright bits of color and a large 10 on the front, a sweatshirt (I haven't owned one of those in quite a while, as many of them make me look like a bubble), and two skirts. Also, quite excitingly, a sticker that proclaims "Arghh" in large letters with Milford, CT below. I need to find a good place for it.
I tried everything on in the living room, with occasional commentary from Eve, along with admiration of my full slip- which made trying everything on in the living room a reasonable proposition (we have no curtains/shades on the downstairs windows, and a pillar only provides so much blockage, although the next apartments over in that directions are far enough away that I doubt they'd be able to see much anyways).
The beginning of the walk was fine, through territory I knew a bit from visiting with
jakal88's aunt and uncle who live just a few blocks away. And in fact, I ran into his aunt walking their younger son home from school on the way. It was a good thing that I did, because what Google maps document as a street named Ben Baba does not actually become anything ressembling a street (even by the looser Jerusalem standards, by which many vaguely paved footpaths are named streets) until a number of blocks after where I was expecting it to be a clearly visible path. Instead, following the advice I was given, I found my way up through a series of stairs and sidewalks in between houses. Once I got to real roads again, I did just fine, until it came time to find the post office itself. After walking for a while and not finding it, I asked an older lady walking by me on the street. She gave me directions- it turns out that the post office is inside the local little shopping plaza building, not visible from outside. After she gave me directions, another man called out "Doar?" (mail), and proceeded to give me the same directions again. With their help, I found the post office, and successfully was only cut in line by one set of people. After my indignant and mildly confused look, the gentleman behind them very kindly made sure that he didn't cut me as well.
Walking home was uneventful, and then I got to open my box. Having told Mom that I was finding the wardrobe that I had brought with me to Israel rather boring, I had both hopes and fears about what she might have picked out for me. For the most part, my hopes were well rewarded- I am now the owner of a fun gauzy over-shirt-thing (somewhat hard to define, but quite exciting in appearance for me), various sorts of pajamas (she remembered that I needed more of them before I left), an orange button down shirt, a striped overshirt/tank-top/vest, a rather inexplicable black t-shirt with bright bits of color and a large 10 on the front, a sweatshirt (I haven't owned one of those in quite a while, as many of them make me look like a bubble), and two skirts. Also, quite excitingly, a sticker that proclaims "Arghh" in large letters with Milford, CT below. I need to find a good place for it.
I tried everything on in the living room, with occasional commentary from Eve, along with admiration of my full slip- which made trying everything on in the living room a reasonable proposition (we have no curtains/shades on the downstairs windows, and a pillar only provides so much blockage, although the next apartments over in that directions are far enough away that I doubt they'd be able to see much anyways).