September 15, 2010

It is Saturday nite and we've come from the Cerillos Stake bicentennial celebration and had a bite to eat--our own version of empanadas—cheese and ham in a flour tortilla and pan fried. BJ told the office elders she would have them for an all you can eat pancake party, so they called to see if she would do it tonight. Not. We are in our pjs and it's too short notice, so they came down and borrowed our 'machine of waffles' and we gave them some syrup. They can't go out tonight because of some rowdy political holiday that sometimes turns ugly and can be dangerous. It's also not a good day to be a norteamericano on the streets in Chile.

It was p-day for us; we did laundry and language and lounging: L-day. No drawers in the kitchen, but our dryer worked wonderfully and no more washer floods. I put up a mirror on a concrete wall and burned up the President's nice Milwaukee 18 volt drill in the process. Have to replace it. Hope I can find equivalent. I hate when that happens.

The cultural event was wonderful. A man from our branch saved us center second row seats, and we met lots of people who were very kind and friendly. Only problem—I came hungry thinking they were having food. They weren't. That's next week. It was a stage show of Chilean dances from different parts of the country similar to the gigantic show Kevin and I saw the night before the Santiago Temple dedication. Each ward and our branch (which is about 2 active priesthood holders short of being a ward—I think that's going to be our job) did a different dance with beautiful native costumes, music and much enthusiasm. One ward wrote and choreographed an original dance honoring the underground miners. We don't get the news (no TV) but understand there is a group of miners trapped who might not get out for three or four more months. One man spoke English and explained where the dances were from. One was kind of Hawaiian or Polynesian from the Easter Islands where there is a branch; also a branch on Robinson Crusoe Island, but the building there got washed away in the earthquake/tsunami. There was a good crowd and I got a lot of photos. I'll send a few, now that I found out how. This was a very pleasant, relaxed day.

Kevin, we met Hermana Venegas. She is as striking as I saw through the little classroom window last Sunday. Turns out you know her too. She was a sister missionary when you and Sergio were companions. In fact, they say it was you who introduced them. Nothing romantic right away, but they kept an eye on each other—you'll have to get the rest of the story from them. They have four boys. One is on a mission in Columbia; one returned. We've heard she has/had cancer. We'll send photos.

Man, this church is getting smaller by the day. Another guy had on a Utah State sweatshirt he got from a missionary companion. I am amazed at how many returned missionaries we have met. No wonder the church is so strong in Chile. Lots of our missionaries are from other places in Chile. It's cool. We commented that the program was pure Chilean—no exported Utah or US culture even hinted. They stand on their own feet.

Sunday 9/12 3++ pm

Home cooking spaghetti—enough for the elders if they come by; they usually do. (They did, about 10pm; we fed six of them. Getting more like Sunday dinner at home.) At church Mom played, we understood a few more words, lots of people visited with us, I got air kissed by a couple of women before they realized I was a missionary, Brother Venegas introduced us to a used car dealer/member who says he can find us a car-no problema, a 12 year old was sustained ordained and passed the sacrament all within 5 minutes-he was all smiles when he came to my row.

The assistantes hurried us off to their ward for another baptism, two young teens-boy and girl-whose parents are not yet baptized but were beaming and weeping when their kids bore their testimonies. We didn't understand the words but the spirit was loud and clear. Mom played again, and for the three hymns three different people led. No pianists but lots of leaders. At the font the ward mission leader loudly announced, in a sports announcer's voice, who was being baptized and by whom. Little full color invitations from a print shop. It is a big event. Refreshments after—2” pieces of sweet bread, a cookie and half a cup of yellow soft drink one missionary called Peruvian CocaCola. Good. A sister who seems to have adopted Mom and whose daughter speaks English from her mission, hurried us out of the chapel to get some before they were gone. They were gone in short order.

BJ's famous spaghetti was delicious, the cake too, and the salad was fresh and crispy, but the tomatoes have thick hard skins, hard to slice and bite. 'Splain it to me. Our garbage goes down a chute outside our door. I just stepped out and winter hit me in the face. Long thermals are in order tomorrow.

Being together 24/7 is a new homemaking experience for me. Instead of mowing, trimming and blowing, I am side by side with my companion cooking, washing dishes and laundry, making the bed, etc. It's nice. We're getting along well. Haven't had a cross word since we left home. I did get on her nerves once (or twice) in Utah, but I love my companion and hope she doesn't get transferred. We're enjoying some personal missionary blessings. It seems I do all the writing. She doesn't sit at the computer very much. We are using the music and Spanish lessons Beth downloaded for us and tomorrow we are to speak with the concierge about getting internet. I think the building is wired for it.

This week we are going to try taxiing to our branch choir practice and bicentennial celebration and grocery shopping. Let you know how that goes.