Something interesting I ate was Салма, which is pickled cabbage stuffed with meat and rice. Elder Prince has been telling me I need to try it, but when he described it to me I thought it sounded gross. Then I ordered something thinking it looked good and when I asked what it was called halfway through eating it he smirked and told me. So there's your foodie story for this week.
One day this week me and Sister Schofield ended up in a high school (don't ask) trying to find a room and I experienced a bit of culture shock when we passed by some open doors and saw a huge group of students standing outside smoking.
On Saturday we went with Elder Barber and Elder Gierisch to Bitola, a city in the southern part of Macedonia, a three-hour drive away. It was nice because since I've been here I've only ever been in the big capital cities: Skopje, Tirana, Prishtina. Bitola had more of a small-town feel and the lifestyle was much slower-paced and relaxed. I could hear the difference in accents between Bitola and Skopje. I wish I could serve there! Anyway, the reason we went to Bitola was to teach a man named Vladimir who found the church on the internet about four years ago. He wants to get baptized but first he has to meet with the missionaries. Me and Sister Schofield went so we could teach his mom, too. We were forewarned that his mom didn't think too highly of us, that she thought we were a cult or something.
Once we found his apartment and were all seated inside, he brought us out a bunch of snacks; cookies, chocolate, dates, and milk, all on a silver platter. Literally. When I was in the MTC at my TRCs a guy who'd served for a small amount of time in Macedonia told me about this, but this was the first time I'd actually seen it. Vladimir told us he knew what Mormons liked to eat, "a lot of sweet", because he'd seen it on the church website. I guess that means, he saw a picture, or pictures, of some people eating and thought they were eating a lot of sugar? Then his mom came in. She shook our hands and stared at us like she was inspecting something on the bottom of her shoe. She started interrogating us. She threatened to call the cops. Vladimir appeared very embarrassed because of her and tried to get her to take a seat and eat something, but she refused. We tried to start with a prayer, but, as I had already anticipated, she interrupted. Her son tried to explain to us that it was just weird for her, having people come over and pray in such a manner. She was very angry. We all tried to be friendly and polite. I smiled at her once and she shook her head and said, "WHAT!" She said several things that we didn't understand and which Vladimir wouldn't translate. Whenever I meet a person like this, I always wonder what they're like with their friends. Elder Barber explained that the reason we couldn't answer all of her questions very well was because we were still learning Macedonian. Her face softened a lot. She asked if we could talk to her without praying, so that's what we did. A whole lot of getting-to-know-you. When Sister Schofield asked her about her brothers and sisters she laughed for the first time and said they were all dead. She asked about our families, our names and how old we were, what we did before we were missionaries. "Do you watch Dr. Oz?" she asked me with a warm smile.
She wanted to know whether we prayed with incense, or before idols. We told her no. "What do I have to do to be a Mormon? What happens after I'm baptized?"
"Oh, wow," said Elder Gierisch. We again made the attempt to pray, later, and she told us to wait until she found some documents, I think her mortgage agreement, so that we could pray for them. We spent a good ten minutes waiting as she searched the house for them. We ended up deciding it was better to postpone praying until she understood more about the concept. She told us about how another missionary, one who has since gone home, had offended her by asking Vladimir if he was fifty years old (he's thirty). We talked to her a tiny bit about the Book of Mormon and Joseph Smith, and then we had to go. She told us that we were all invited to Vladimir's wedding (he's single). When we were all pulling on our shoes by the door she asked if I would marry her son. "Missionaries can't," explained Elder Barber, "but after the mission..." I gave him a dirty look which I think he missed. I think he was laughing to himself. Vladimir's mom then tried to get me and him to hold hands. I feel like I'm continually gaining more insight into why newly returned missionaries are so awkward. We all descended the steps of the building in quiet excitement and once we were outside, hurrying down the street, Elder Barber told us, "I'm going to call that lesson a huge success." The best part about that story is how it doesn't require exaggeration in the littlest bit.
Vladimir's mom had invited us all back, so we decided to take a very slow approach to teaching her. We figured she was mostly looking out for her son when she was so suspicious of us. Elder Barber took us down a center street to "the best тост shop in all of Macedonia" which really was quite scrumptious because it wasn't stuffed with fries and they used better bread and a different kind of cheese. Sister Schofield said to me, when we were tramping around Bitola, how the city was even less touched by missionaries than Skopje.
In other news, Sister Schofield's love interest/investigator showed up to his first lesson with a single red rose wrapped in ribbon for her, plus a kiss on the hand. He shook mine. Message received. We met up with Elder Krajnc and Elder Prince and she tried to hide it behind her back. After the lesson we walked over to where the other two elders were contacting. Previously she had tried to convince them, with earnestness, about how she really thought he was interested in the church, not her.
We played soccer with him again today, and in his last lesson, he committed to baptism. I had my first Macedonian conversation about non-church related things, which was awesome! He gave me his English notebook and asked me to take it home and make corrections in it.
Love,
Sister Riddle
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