Alright here goes all the adventures that I have been having in the past few weeks. I will include a "story" that I wrote to one of my friends out in Hawaii, which may or may not be true. I wont tell which until I get home haha.
I totally forgot that M was entering the MTC soon. It is crazy to think that she will be in South America in a little less than 2 months. The members there will greatly appreciate the fact that she can play piano.
Ok, I am about to say something that will make Mom laugh. I regret not keeping up with piano. There I said it, I wish I had continued piano. There are only a few missionaries that can play the piano and when there isn't one in the branch with you, there is either the stereo or acapella.
I am so happy that the E's were able to go to the temple, that is such a cool experience. How cool is it that they invited you to the sealing as well. Please say hello for me.
Mom, I am very proud of the fact that you have completed your thesis. It is such a great accomplishment that will bring blessings into our lives, your life and the lives of the people you work with.
I laughed so hard reading that first two sentences. He ran into a mailbox. Running backwards. Talking on his phone. Man, I bet the person on the other side of the phone was like "wait, what just happened?" hahaha.
Ok, so what I didn't tell you was the story of a trip to Galati.
Dun dun DUN!!!!!
So the story goes that on a day like today 2 missionaries, an assistant and an office elder, decided that they wanted to have an exchange in Galati. They opened their hearts and allowed the elders who resided in this river city to travel with them, as they were in the same location as the a fore mentioned 2 missionaries. As the story goes the 2 missionaries weren't able to finish their chores until 6 o'clock pm, after which the assistant was famished. Together they met up with the river-city dwelling missionaries where they ate Subway, all but the office elder for he was neglecting food in exchange for bounteous blessings. As their meal settled into their stomachs all the missionaries realized it was getting late.
With out further a do, they went off on their adventure, not stopping for directions (men don't need directions). As they began to drive around the monstrous city of Bucuresti they realized they were almost lost, and as such, needed almost directions. Locating the nearest drunk, our valiant office elder asked in his Moldavian tongue the quickest way to Constanta, for that was the route by which they needed to travel to arrive at the river city. Drunk as he was, our intoxicated fellow gave the best directions he could, after scratching his plump belly of course. Noble and full of valor our missionaries sped off, but as the time to turn arrived the assistant stated that this was not the road that he wanted, so they continued on. After cruising for a league or so the missionaries were befuddled. Why had they not reached the well constructed road. The road on which one could travel as fast as his small 4 stroke engine could take him? Fast as lightning, or as some say, in a quick manner they turned around.
Flying the way they originally came, with comments from the river dwellers whose tempers were a flare, they returned to the city of many gypsies. Asking for a route to Constanta once more, for that was the route by which one went on the way to Galati, our missionaries proceeded to a different road. This incredibly straight and smelly shortcut eventually met with the way which is free (but not really there was a toll). After the many kilometers which had passed it was beginning to be late, nearly 8 o'clock as the sun stands. Tearing down the freeway, passing Dacia, Audi and Opel alike, these missionaries were finally advancing towards Constanta, for that was the route by which one took on the way to Galati. Nearing almost 10 o'clock, as the car timer stands, they arrived.
Our valiant yet tired missionaries halted for fuel, both for machine and man. Deciding that the hour was past for which to hold pride, they chose to ask for advice upon which road to take to Galati, after which they found that they had passed the turn off and needed to proceed 50 some odd kilometers back towards Bucuresti. Once again the assistant stated that this was not so, that he had passed through Constanta on his way to Galati. There was a way, and he would find it.
From the helpful river-dwelling messengers, the 2 missionaries found that if they traveled by way of Talcea, they would eventually arrive at the city where the river lies. Now remember, it is far past late and none of the missionaries had slept much in the days which had passed. Twisting and curving down dark roads, maneuvering around potholes and large cracks, they managed to finally reach Talcea. After circling the same passage multiple times they finally found the path towards Galati.
Winding through small towns and past large windmills our missionaries received a message. Wondering who would attempt to communicate with anyone at this unfortunate hour, our office elder opened the text. Tired and having a slight headache it took him a moment to read, and then translate the message. Esti in Ukraina. You are in Ukraine. The hour of midnight having already past, a road which hadn't had a sign in many kilometers and a text message stating that they were in the Ukraine, our missionaries became very excited. Nervous, intrigued and almost giddy. Why had they not passed a border? Had they somehow gone through a city into a strange land? Where guard dogs, helicopters, tanks and swearing Ukrainians surrounding them as they chattered in a hushed whisper?
After much speculation our office elder suggested that they must have had a Ukrainian cell tower bounce a signal off their phone, which still meant they were very close to the border. With a little more energy they finally reached a sign which stated that they were a mere 30 kilometers from their final destination. At last they began to see the lights along the river. With only 2 kilometers to go, they turned down a road, only to find that it led to the river. A dead end, a blank alley, a ferry crossing. They were on the wrong side of the river at two hours in the new day.
Hearts heavy with disappointment, these missionaries turned to the next large city hoping to find a large bridge, a hotel, or a shallow area in the river. After traveling another 45 minutes they began to see hope. Again each sign stated that their new city was only a stones throw away, but just before they reached it they ran into a ferry crossing. Our assistant was exhausted, both physically and mentally. Switching seats, our office elder began to drive down a narrow foot-path which led to a ferry crossing. This crossing was different however do to the fact that it had an actual ferry docked. After talking to the captain, or one of his underlings, the missionaries drove up onto their new mode of transportation. It was almost half past the hour of 2, and the ferry was not to leave until 3.
Tick tock went the clock. Minutes passed while our office elder fought off exhaustion. He knew that he needed to stay conscious or they would never reach that city on the river. As the hour hit 3, they began to move. Water rushing past many thousands of gallons per second, they traversed this massive river. Reaching the other side, they trudged over to the apartment of the river-dwellers and crashed, only to wake up to 5 1/2 hours of service
What a great story! I should write children stories haha.
So the other story that I told Secondborn, but didn't want to tell you because I wanted to have something cool to share with Secondborn was...we wrecked another car. This time it was one of the brand spankin' new Opels (gutless cars that they are) and we were hit in the same place, although a little farther up. We were turning left when a taxi driver tried to beat the light and shoot the gap between us and the car in front of us. Well, he lost and so did we as it hit the back right wheel (pretty lucky cause it took most of the impact and then distributed it by spinning us). Airbags deployed in the front (me sitting passenger, I wasn't driving) and we all got out to inspect. Well the car is broken, that's easy enough to see. We spent the next 5 hours at the police station where the missionary who was driving finally stated that it was his fault (so not his fault, the taxi driver was speeding and probably blew the red) mostly because he was tired and it was 11 pm. We will find out soon enough if the car is totaled or if we will get it repaired. Other than that, there hasn't been a lot of fun stuff in our lives.
That's about it. Life has been super stressing as of late. After the wreck we were asked to pick up a temple president who would be speaking at the district conference. We woke up the next morning in a very good mood (I forgot to say this was 3 days after the wreck) when all of a sudden I remembered that we had forgotten to go to the airport. After freaking out, we had called the hotel only to find out he wasn't there and had never arrived, we found him in the hotel he was really staying at. He had a good attitude about the whole thing and said that it was easy enough to forget with everything that goes on in a missionary's life.
That's my life!
P.S. We are going to Peles castle on Wednesday. If you would like to have some pictures, I request some pictures from all of you :)