I'd sent myself home a package from Namibia in 2005. I don't remember what it was, but I was shedding possessions at the time as I had to carry everything out of my apartment, to Cape Town, then north to Uganda by train and bus. I threw away the box later, but kept the stamps.
When I sent my writing samples from Swakopmund to Amtrak to audition for a gig, it had gone plastered in the same type of wildlife stamps. I thought it would either get me the job, or they would take one look at the packet wrapped in hand-canceled stamps, and call the FBI.