February 10, 2014
Hello everyone!
So, when I left Tuesday morning it was snowing pretty hard, and I was worried my flight would be delayed. I rode the shuttle from the MTC in the front next to the driver because I didn't want to talk to anyone. About six people going to Ukraine were the only ones riding with me. I really struggled with all my bags, but luckily I got helped most of the way through all my travels. Like, one of the Ukrainian elders helped me take everything to the counter to get checked. My carry-on was super heavy and I was worrying about what to do with it, and then somebody from the back came up and told me they were out of room, so they'd check it for free. It worked out even more because they checked it to New York, so when I got to Dallas I didn't have to worry about it. If I had I would definitely have missed my flight. God was really looking out for me. Once I got to New York there were two sisters waiting for me out by the baggage claim. I should have bought an I <3 NY shirt, but maybe I'll do that someday when I take an actual trip there. The first thing I saw/heard in New York was a shoe shiner talking to somebody in a thick Brooklyn accent, so that was cool. Me and the sisters went back to their place, and then to the church which was right next to it where they have their mission office. They mostly worked on lessons and stuff and I tried to help, but it was hard since I don't know their investigators. Some of the elders bought us all some chicken sammiches from the local deli, which tasted awesome compared to MTC food. We taught a lesson on forgiveness to a recent convert. This was all in Queens, by the way. I went to bed early because I was super tired, and the next day we went to Manhattan for my visa. They said it was pretty exciting for them to go to Manhattan since it wasn't part of their mission. We rode the subway there because there had been an ice storm that night and they were afraid to drive. Walking to the subway we ran into some of the elders shoveling slush in their yellow Mormon Helping Hands vests. So, Manhattan is the part of New York City with all the skyscrapers and stuff. I saw the Empire State Building and the Trump Tower. We ate some Chipotle and then they took me to the airport. I was sitting at a mostly empty gate, and when I got on they made me check my bag again!!!!
I sat next to a Macedonian guy! He was Muslim and asked what I was doing in Skopje. He didn't really understand the concept of a missionary and when I talked about the church it didn't seem to ring any bells. He asked me if I was a nun. I took off my nametag and showed it to him. He was like, "What are you going to do? It's with your school?"
"No. I'm going to help people come to Christ."
"How sweet of you!"
Later when they brought around food he asked, "You prayed before you eat?"
"Yes."
"Strange to see someone as young as you already headed in the right direction. You are a joy!" I thought that Muslims couldn't drink, but that must not be the case because he had a few beers on the plane. He slept through a lot of the flight. Lucky. I tried to sleep but couldn't at all. When I got to Austria he for some reason felt like I needed help finding my gate. I remember thinking to myself that we were a weird pair, some mormon missionary girl and a drunk old Macedonian man. I bought an Apfelsaft, fizzy apple juice, in the airport. The most german I said was "danke" because I was too shy to say anything else. I understood the cashier though, when I'd paid and started to walk away, she was like, "Wait a minute, you need to sign." It was SO FOGGY that morning and the airport was virtually empty, so I couldn't see anything past the airport and it felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. Or maybe the Truman Show. It just didn't feel real. In Austria the airport had places you could lay down, which was awesome and I slept until everyone started shuffling around to board. I heard people speaking around me and was filled with dread as I realized that they were speaking my language. I could only pick out a word or two. There's a joke at the MTC that once you get into your country, you realize they don't speak the same language you learn. (I guess referring to the speed with which people speak, slang, dialects, etc.) But for me that is literally the case. After we gave them our boarding passes we got onto a bus which took us to the plane. I thought it was symbolic of how I'm going to Buttville, Nowhere. Everyone looked the same. Dark hair, thick eyebrows, dark eyes. I slept on the plane next to a German guy. I think when I was asleep a few women noticed my nametag, because when I woke up three of them were staring at me. They didn't look away when I looked at them.
A couple of guys from that flight who said they worked at the US Embassy in Skopje asked for my number at the baggage claim and invited me to any of the parties they supposedly have there. Lawl. At this airport the carts you can use to help you with your luggage were free, thankfully. In New York they charged $5! My President, his wife, and my companion met me outside and helped me with everything. I secretly call the Fords the Dursleys in my head, because they have these prim, perfect little English accents. First impressions driving into Skopje: dirty, run-down, reminds me of a movie. Lots of street vendors. I was feeling really inwardly upset, just at how dirty it was. I think though, that was just how my nerves were manifesting themselves in my head, because now when I walk around it doesn't feel that way to me at all. Our apartment is NICE though. We each have our own bathroom. The Fords offered to order a pizza, but I wasn't hungry. They weren't there for very long. They just said to me, basically that a lot of missionaries were freaking out at the beginning and felt like they couldn't do it, but with time they all became confident and effective. They did talk about Kosovo and the sisters who were attacked there by some Fundamentalist Muslims, but told me it was not normal for people to feel that way about us, and that the violence also wasn't normal. Me and my companion are to never leave or come back to the apartment at the same time of day, and to vary our routes. That's cool though, because it means we can spread out our studying throughout the day and don't have to do it all in the morning. Just to get into our apartment complex's lobby you need a password, and we live on the second floor. Kosovo is part of our zone so at some point I will do exchanges with the Sisters there. So, either me or Sister Schofield will go up there for about a week at a time, while one of them comes down here to work with one of us here. That will be interesting as I don't speak Albanian. The numbers I gave you before were wrong. There are 6 members in Macedonia, they've had four in the past year. Tracting isn't allowed and when the missionaries were here before, they could only talk to someone on the street if they were approached first. But I guess the law allows us now to contact. That's why the work has been so slow for so long. Church is held in a hotel conference room. It's a nicer room than I was expecting when I saw it on Sunday. The mission officially opened in 2011, I think they said, but missionaries have only been here since 2012. "There are no expectations," the Fords told me.
Sister Schofield was in Bosnia for a month but has been in Skopje for the past two with two different companions from the Adriatic North Mission. "But they don't count," she told me, "we were the ones who were actually called, we're the first two sisters called to Macedonia." I'm still special, ok???
I'm sending a postcard when I can. It will take some time getting there. There are things written in Macedonian, Albanian, Croatian (which I only recognize because it's what my MTC companion learned) and English. There are lots of street beggars, shoe polishers, stray animals, etc. New York was pretty dirty, but Macedonia's poor. There are a lot of Muslims here, so I've seen both churches and mosques. There's call to prayer 5 times a day. They come over the loudspeaker in a certain part of the city, praying/singing in Arabic. Just like in the movie Not Without My Daughter. There are some new statues and buildings which apparently they put up trying to get tourists to come here. When we first got here I thought, "Anyone who would come to Skopje for vacation is retarded!!!!" But it's amazing how much my feelings have changed in just these past few days. It's crazy I haven't even been here a week! Sister Schofield told me all the people were mad that the government was spending money on that instead of fixing the economy. The shiny statures do appear out of place next to the dilapidated apartment buildings. Most apartments, like ours, have sensors that turn on the lights when you go into the hallway. We buy our groceries at the mall near our house. The only food I've gotten here that was a little more ethnic was when I ate at a Turkish place there (in the mall). It was bread and chicken with raw red cabbage and onion. I ate it, even the raw onion was good, different from here. I can't even stand a small bit of uncooked onion on a sandwich or something here.
At church, since pretty much none of the church's printed materials are available in Macedonian, they announce the English hymn number, then the corresponding Serbian and Russian ones. When we all sing together it sounds super pretty. I introduced myself to everyone at the beginning, including a Russian couple who are investigators. I don't know if they spoke Macedonian or Russian to me, but we understood each other. I met one Macedonian member, who's name I forget, who was the first man to receive the priesthood here since the time of Paul. And church is only two hours because there aren't enough to split into Relief Society and Priesthood. Sister Schofield spoke, but since it was in Macedonian it was quite short and we got out 20 minutes early. So that's an hour and forty minutes of church as opposed to the usual three. We ate dinner at the senior couple's house, the Andersons. They're from Ogden and are leaving in a few months, but they'll be replaced. My second day here they brought us cookies. They do a humanitarian mission and work a lot in soup kitchens, doing community service, and with the Roma community/"gypsies". Sister Anderson said to me when I asked her about what she liked/would miss about Macedonia, "I was so intimidated by the people when I first got here, especially to speak the language. But people are pretty much the same everywhere. They all need a smile, and to feel loved. We're so sad that we're going to have to leave and never come back. But we miss our children and our grandchildren."
I like all the elders. They're all from Utah except for one from Slovenia who's also a bit older, 26. Today we played capture the flag and ate pizza with our Zone Leaders who are visiting from Kosovo. I spoke German! Lots of people speak German here. I guess tourists. It was only like three sentences, but still. I'm so glad I have my German Book of Mormon.
We had a lessons with an an investigator, Kate, the first day here. "You look confused," she said to me when I first walked in her house. She's a very nice lady, she teaches aerobics and has a baptismal date. She never is able to come to church though, and she has to come to at least two before she's baptized. She speaks English pretty well and we've so far only had one lesson in Macedonian, so we had to get the elders to come with us. "You're learning one of the most useless languages in the world," said one elder, Elder Barber, to me one day when we were studying the language together in the mall. We have no teachers, and we all have a copy of the same grammar book, because it's the only Macedonian grammar book anyone's been able to find. There are Macedonian-English dictionaries though, because a lot of them learn English. We also teach Natasha, who is my age. She loves the Book of Mormon, according to Sister Schofield, and she knows the gospel inside and out. She gave both of us long hugs after my first meeting with her. She is very sweet. She's another one who speaks English, and she's a genius. I forget what she's in school for, but it's something science-y and I looked at her notes and they gave me a headache. She is also fond of calling us at night and talking to us until we have to go to bed. The other night she asked to talk to me
"Why did you learn Bulgarian?"
"I don't know. They're similar."
"Do you know how to say, 'I like you' in Bulgarian?"
"Ob-ee-cham tebe."
"Do you know how to say it in Macedonian?"
"Sak-am tebe."
"See? It's different." She laughed very hard after that.
I'll tell you about contacting last night. We joined up with the elders, which was great because there are the two here who have been here a while and know the language better. We set up at a little place with signs to try and stop people. They said I'm at an advantage because the women aren't as afraid to talk to another woman, but/and every guy you talk to thinks you are interested in him. We get asked out a lot. It wasn't too bad cold-wise last night but one little Roma boy found it hilarious to come up to me and twist my fingers as hard as he could. They all like the missionaries, apparently we're the only ones who talk to them. One of the elders gives them granola bars when he sees them. I plan on doing the same. I think they are fed enough but still. What parent lets their five and eight-year-olds run around a big city at night to beg for money? Sometimes you see the parents watching them, but a lot of times they are nowhere in sight. That same little boy stole Sister Schofield's nametag and had her chasing him around as he wore it. It was pretty funny to watch.
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