Thursday, August 22, 2013

101 Dalmations--Wait, I Mean Missionaries

And thus the mad typing rush begins. So, Prado. Definitely worth the free ticket. More than that? No. A lot of depressed or dying or naked people or all of the above. That and random stories from history that I've never heard of before. The only thing that made me excited was recognizing mythology stuff, the copy of the Mona Lisa that I thought was real but then it wasn't, and the very literal titles of paintings that didn't have a title. Such as: Dead Birds, A Zebra, A knight with his left hand on his crest. Pretty self explanatory. I was also excited to see modern art. Oh wait, no. They only have pictures from 1890 and backwards. Whoopdeedoo. That word sounds better out loud. 

So, I've been playing football (soccer) a lot and not gotten a single goal. Mostly because I stayed on defense. But Monday I got three goals in one game. In fancy footballer lingo it's called a hat trick. At dinner we had drinking competitions, but not with alcohol. Something much worse and harder to drink. Gaspacho. Olive oil plus salsa and vegetables in a blender essentially. We had a few people just gag and spit out half way through. It's was pretty great. 

Lessons are going a lot better. Apparently Spanish people talk very fast. Ya. They do. People from the south drop their S's and use the ceta on c's and z's and speak even faster sooooo, ya. It's hard. Thank goodness they're only from Andalusia. That covers the south. I had a miraculous moment yesterday. We were hearing a story from a guy about an investigator and he was speaking really fast Spanish. I was understanding pretty well and suddenly I realized that I could understand him perfectly. I don´t know when it started. It was like Tennis Shoes Among the Nephites. It sounded almost like English. Then I realized that he had switched to his really thick accented English halfway through. Psych! But I still understood the beginning well. 

My Philipino companion got his man-skirts sent to him today. They're pretty sick. Oh, and tell the Lisonbee's that Elder Fonseca is in my room. I forgot to mention that. They know him. So we got more missionaries. It's good, but it's cramped. This place is meant to hold about 70 people max. We have a 101. It's interesting because they didn't get endowed and whatnot until they got here and spent a day here. We couldn't kick it in garments in the halls yesterday. Dorm halls. Not anywhere else because they have a fit if you even wear t-shirts on temple grounds that aren't your hall or the opposite side from the temple. 

We almost never get fluffy clouds. We get really flat wispy clouds that are thick. We're going to the mall today and we're all excited because we need stuff. Apparently the European equivalent of Walmart is some French place called Carrefour? Something like that. I ran out of stuff and need hangers (Almost wrote hangars. Don't need those. No planes.), and mere mortal underwear for workouts. We play football in "The Oven" a concrete pit, stadium, thing. It's been like 103 midday most days and we sweat like a fat person sprinting across the Sahara for a burger. That came out of nowhere. Or rather, it did come from my head. Wow, I should probably stop writing before sentences get weird. Scratch that. Weirder.

Elder Morgan the Younger

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