November 17, 2014
So, we have reached the end of another transfer (hence the title of this week's blog). Since I have six months here in Sochiloa it is very probable that I will be changed, but who knows. President told me the other week "Sister Anderson, don't worry. The longest you can be in an area is 10 months." Thank you, President. That was uber-helpful.
-Something I think is funny: When people see us in the street they feel the need to cross themselves. Some are really subtle about it, but there was one woman this week who was all sorts of exaggerated. As soon as we were out of ear shot I laughed hysterically.
-Remember how a few weeks (months?) ago I told you that I had successfully avoided eating cow stomach? Well, Tuesday we were scheduled to eat with Hermano Beto, who works in a meat shop, and let’s just say that we have different ideas of what parts of animals we should eat. He told us he was going to make it for us and I was all prepared to eat it, but then turned out he didn't have time. Whew! Just kidding. The next day – my six-month mark in Mexico actually – we "discovered" an inactive family while looking for an address, and they invited us to eat menudo. Or in other words, cow stomach soup. So close. It actually tasted fine, but when I thought "I have stomach in my mouth," that's when I almost flipped. But I didn't. Yay, good missionary manners.
-Dirt gets everywhere here. Everywhere. Even above the light bulbs in your ceiling, and then it all falls on you.
-Fun fact: Here, and also in Peru, if you don't do your Visiting Teaching in a skirt it doesn't count. SO quit whining and just do it!
-Today I played ice soccer! Basically we just kicked around big pieces of ice to get the floor all wet so we could mop it. The floor ended up dirtier than it started, but good heavens was it fun.
-Speaking of Jane Austen, I was trying to practice my British accent to teach Hna Gonzales, but it just kept coming out like Miss Charming in the movie "Austenland." So I stopped.
-Also, we took this picture this week, and it pretty much defines our companionship. Me being weird and Sister Gonzales laughing at me.
And the funniest story of the week to finish: We are working with the ward directory to try to find people to teach as well as the many less-active members, because the list has 200 FAMILIES and we usually have about 80 people in attendance. Yeah … there is room for improvement. So while we were sitting on a bench trying to decide who we were going to visit next, Willie, one of the kids who lives on the block, came over and asked what we were doing. I told him that we were looking for names, and he said, “Oh. Well there's Hernan” (he's the son of the lady we rent from and the assistant Ward mission leader). This confused me, but then I figured it out. In Spanish the word for name is "nombre" and the word "hombre," which is what Willie heard, means man. So he thought that we were looking for men. Ha. As if we have time for that.
Love you all!