Just when you thought it was safe...

        One challenge we faced when we arrived was a mailing address. We found a place to live relatively quickly, but would it be the place we'd live in for the next year? We couldn't say yes then, and so couldn't use the apartment address for a mailing address. It didn't help that our address actually changed the month we moved in! Yes, the street names just ... changed.
        To solve that dilemma we decided to go rent a post box at the local post office. It took a few trips to get the lingo correct, and to arrive at the precise moment the only authorized person to handle post boxes was present (long lunch breaks and other absences are an artistic endeavour here it seems), but we did it! 2000 tenge later(Kazakstan's money) and we had ourselves a post box for the year. We were pleased. I even checked it the next day to see if any fliers had been delivered. Ah well, for all the other hassles there are here, fliers in the mail doesn't seem to be one of them.
        So, a week later I am walking by the building and what!? The post office is gone. Gone. And so is our box. There is a cryptic notice on the door where it used to be be, but it is in Russian (the most complex language in the world mind you: I once looked up a word in the dictionary and it wasn't there. This language includes all of the difficult conjugation rules of other languages -suffixes, prefixes, gender, location, tense, plural/singular, mid-word-iffixes, whatever challenge you may have with Chinese, German, Italian, French, Polynesian languages, etc, all those tough grammar and conjugation rules are in Russian, but not always in the same order). Supposedly it is relocated to a place on our street.
        Now I have to find where our post box has gone.