Blessed be the flexible

For they are never bent out of shape! 

Buono giornata! 

     That phrase "blessed be the flexible for they are never bent out of shape" is something that my mission president said when we had zone council this last Friday. It stuck with me, so I'm sharing it with all of you! the reason it stuck with me, is because they used me as an example to help them define for us what they meant by telling the whole zone about my emergency transfer up and how I handled that with literally zero problems. 

Pizzas eaten: 43

Gelato: 35

Book's of Mormon: 55

  

     Alright! I suppose I shall begin with the night of zone conference and then go from there to the rest of the cool things that happened this week. What occurred that night was more interesting than what occurred during that day. Here is why: we had to catch a bus to go home. The last bus out of town was in half an hour and the walk was about half of that. We made it on time, bought our tickets and then waited for about another half an hour because the busses are never on time when you want them to be, and always on time when you need them not to be. Welcome to Italy. 

     After we managed to get a seat on the bus, we were joined by about 15 Africans, and those guys are funny as heck to listen to when they talk because they speak something called "Pigeon" which is basically just dumbed down English, so after listening to them for about thirty minutes it all started making rather good sense to me. They are also very loud. And they like to snap. Which is also very loud. It was just what my companion and I needed however because we were both very tired and they kept us awake. 

     Then the storm rolled in. About forty five minutes before we got off the bus, a lightning storm rolled in and it was something that reminded me of Idaho quite a bit actually. After that, it was rain and all the usual things that happen in a storm. But, this time, when we were walking home we were yelled at by a homeless man who hates Americans (of which there are actually quite a few in Agrigento, I don't know why) and all he screamed at us was "you can't justify that!" three or four times before pushing past us and then just disappearing. 

     The next story of interest that I have for all of you is this: Tuesday night! As you all know by now, every Tuesday and Thursday night we teach English course and  love teaching them because it is so very fun. After course on Tuesday, we were invited to go and eat a pizza with the English course at a Sicilian pizzeria called "La Trizzera" which is siciliano for the kind of road it was built next to. A dirt one. We all ordered something and then è were told by the English course that they were going to pay for us, and we tried to give them our money but they wouldn't have it. 

     After our appetizers of fries and other fried things, our liter of coke in a glass bottle and some lively discussion (which I took part of in Italian because I can do that now) we were greeted with our pizza. I got my pizza last, and it was gone first. The Italians all thought my companion was joking when he told them I eat fast, but after that they had no trouble believing it. We ended up racking up a total of 156 euro I believe, and then everyone else but us started to have a beer or some limoncello. Limoncello is an alcohol made from the rinds of lemons or cantaloupe flesh, and is basically a tart lemon alcohol shot. 

     After our ride home had one or two of those, he drove us home. But along the way, we got some pictures of the Greek temples they have here in Agrigento. Good stuff! 

     On Friday, I was able to receive my first to letters in the mission since I got to Italy. They were from a seminary class in Rathdrum Idaho, and one of them was from my Sorella, Payton. The other was from her friend who's name escapes me at the moment. I appreciated those letters, and then went on to eat two canolli. Those things are very good, and also so very unhealthy for you. But that's ok, because they're Italian. Not the best logic, but I'm using it. 

     The last thing I have to talk about this email would be the spiritual experience of the week. Singing at an old folks home. Now, I love singing to old people, they're the best because even if you suck like I did (It appears I can't sing local Italian Christmas music or the local Sicilian Christmas music either) they love you for trying. And then they talk to you for a while about he things that they love, a dnwhen they see you don't speak super well, they laugh and pinch your cheeks while you Sem confused and then continue on with the story anyways. 

     There was one lady who beckoned me over while staring me down. I wasn't sure what was going on at first, because when we beckon people over to us with our hands in America, we do it palm up and then wave our fingers around. They do it palm down, and I almost looks like they are shooing you away. But they aren't. Her name was Maria, and she held onto my hand telling me how beautiful we were while we were singing, and that I was beautiful, then she kissed my hand and told me to grab my companion so she could talk to him. 

     She did that with every single person from the ward who came over to sing, and she made sure to do it again when we all started to leave. During this time, I was talking to an old Italian lady who has two kids in America, and even though I didn't understand much siciliano when she spoke, she was very happy that we were there and wanted to tell me all about her family and then made me promise I would come back sometime soon. I told her I would try to, and that led into me explaining to her what I was doing here as a missionary. 

     Long story short, old Italians are awesome and you need to visit the old people in your town because they love talking with you. Also, they're very nice. 

I won't have any pictures in this email, I'll send them out later this week because emails won't send if I add pictures due to our garbage wifi right now. 

Con amore, 

Anziano Anderson