be ye

Grande Lisboa

My favorite cereal (it has nutella inside) and my favorite milk!

Hey Everrrrrybody!

So I’m not exactly sure what I’m going to write about this week. The biggest things were P-Day last week, Transfer Day, Crazy Sacavém Dona, a funeral, and going a little crazy.

I guess I’ll start by answering all questions.

“How many new ties have you acquired since arriving in Lisbon?”
Since arriving in the country, I have probably 5 new ties, traded a couple, and gave away a couple. I don’t like wearing American ties very much, unless they are ridiculously awesome, like the one I am currently wearing, which I got from Elder Hobbs, who got it from Elder Davis, an AP who finished his mission a couple transfers ago (not my MTC comp). Ties are an interesting thing, because ties and pant style (you cannot be a real missionary, apparently, unless you have a pinstripe suit) are basically the only forms of visual expression you have as missionaries. You can tell a lot about a missionary by the kind of tie he wears. Every single tie I own is striped, and I only have two dark ties left. I like tan, blue, red, white, and gray in a tie, but not all at the same time. Green ties are also pretty cool, but they are often associated with Sporting, and I am a Benfiquista, so I am obligated to avoid green ties unless they are unbelievably awesome.

“…the pasta salad you said was the best you ever had, did you make it? Did you get a recipe for it? What was the dressing made of?”
I did indeed make this pasta salad. I did not have a recipe. Pasta salad is probably one of my top 5 favorite foods, as is likely known throughout our household, and I had many experiences of mixing things like cheddar cubes, pickle chunks, Italian dressing, peppers, etc. Over time, I found that smaller pastas are better, textures have to be balanced (not too much crunchy or too much squishy), and that the sauce is better when it preserves all the ingredients (Italian dressing demolishes pasta salads after about a day). I used a Churrasco cream sauce that I got from Continente (www.continente.pt) and it had a little bit of a kick to it. It was incredible.

“How much do you speak in Portuguese in the office?”
Not a whole lot. Office elders in the past have tried to mix in Portuguese in some of the office business, but it’s just confusing (especially when there are mistakes everywhere, like saying for “description” “descriação”, which means dis-creation. President depends on us being very good at what we do (he told me), so I think it is in everybody’s best interest to not mess it up. All of our stuff has to be legible by Salt Lake, and I don’t think we need to make it hard for them just to prove that we speak Portuguese.

“Last week I sent the "office elder lesson" to Elder Hobbs' mother along with the group photo you sent that he was in. She got a kick out of it!”
I realized this week, after nosing through our collection of apostate missionary books (The Missionary’s Little Book of Quotes, 100 Traits of a Whole-Hearted Missionary, etc.) that I have never heard nor seen a book or any other kind of material (not even produced by the Church – no training manual, nothing in Preach My Gospel, nothing in the Missionary Handbook – there is no mention of an office elder anywhere in anything I have read by the Church). I figure it’s only fair that office elders have something beyond the whining/nagging of the mission and Salt Lake to acknowledge their existence. I guess if the “Gospel of the Office” (as it has been called by the others here in the office) makes it into the hands of other office elders, I say, “I feel ya brotha. I feel ya.” It’s like giving a high five to the truck driver who delivers your food to the grocery store. High five, truck driver! Haul them beets.

P-Day last week was pretty cool. Elder Croshaw volunteered to help pick up missionaries (since Elder Hobbs can’t drive), so Elder Hobbs and I went down to Castelo São Jorge in Lisbon to go moleskinning (moleskine is the amazing little notebook in which I write anything of value). Basically, we like our chill time. We took some funny pictures, listened to a cool guy play classical Portuguese guitar music in the castle, and got a few things documented about the happenings in our everyday mission lives. It was pretty cool.

Transfer Day. Elder Croshaw and I went in the van to pick up a bunch of the new missionaries, and it was crazy. It was like reliving my first day. I looked at everything again realizing how strange it all was. Seeing a sign with a Portuguese word on it was momentarily cool again. Roundabouts were fun again (they really aren’t). Talking to the missionaries about the MTC made me realize how small and short-sighted of a perspective you have when you get into the actual mission. In the MTC, you get blown away with a fire hose that if you are doing all the little things right, nothing else matters. But when you look at somebody and try to initiate a conversation of eternal importance, all of the obsession with momentary necessities fades into its place on the planner.

Elder Croshaw had to go with President and the real estate representative of the Europe West Area to deal with a crazy dona (landlord) and all of the stupid, stupid things the missionaries had done to her house. She was saying that we had broken things (true), damaged things (very true), and stolen things (false). President wouldn’t have any of that. Even though the missionary program is the biggest liability for the Church, we stupid 19-to-whatever-year-old people are not here to cause trouble, and the Gospel is true and incredible, regardless of our stupidity. And, we’re all very, very expensive. I don’t think I’m allowed to say how expensive, but I’ll just say that the $10000 to come on a mission is not NEARLY enough for how much we each cost.

I went with Elder Wardenburg to a funeral and burial for a member in our ward (he was with me in the MTC) while Elder Croshaw was in Sacavém. I didn’t know him very well (aside from hearing about him genuinely confused if Elder Croshaw’s drivers license picture was of him or a girl because he had long hair), but his Catholic family was there. Man, without a basic understanding of the Plan of Salvation, death is not a very fun experience.

I’m out of time, I hope everything goes well, and GO BYU.

Amo todos vós!

Elder Lobo