|Christmas in Mexico|
Tuesday was a LONG day! Monday night my companion was throwing up all night...which meant that Tuesday was definitely a no go to work. In the morning we took a taxi to one of the mission doctors and he blamed it on stress....she's throwing up her guts because of stress?? He told her to read a little stress booklet and to call him the next day with a report on how she was feeling. The doctors here....the other day one of the missionaries went to the doctor for stomach pain and he diagnosed her with salmonella and prescribed her with medicine! To no surprise, she didn't end up having salmonella at all...crazy!!! Anyway, we stayed in the house all day which meant lots of studying for me!
Wednesday my comp. woke up feeling a lot better so we were able to go out and work. Susana (our investigator with a broken foot) passed her baptismal interview which was exciting.
Quick cultural note: I have never seen more Jello in my entire life. It's ridiculous. You can find jello on just about every street corner here in all shapes, sizes, and colors. They make the jello in little cups, flip them out onto a small sheet of paper and then line them up on carts to sell. Does it taste good? No way! But everyone here loves it. They even come onto the buses and metros carrying little glass boxes full of jello cups.
Thursday was a pretty normal day. We were walking in the street when an orange splattered right in front of us. Somebody tried to hit us with an orange! We've grown so accustomed to little incidents like that and have learned that it is better to act like nothing happened. So, we kept walking. But that was definitely a first!
Drunk men come up to us every day...so what's one more? Never did I think that I would grow so accustomed to it...but I am! I guess that's what happens as a missionary in Mexico! I remember first getting here and feeling pure fear at the sight of a drunk man on the street. I always thought the worst. Now, almost a year later it's actually an entertaining experience. They come up to us and we are able to have a conversation. I'd say that about 90% of them recognize us as missionaries and beg us to help them quit drinking. The smell of alcohol is normally overwhelming. Saturday a skinny man walked up to us and, as always, asked us to help him to quit drinking. He stepped back, clasped his hands together, closed his eyes, tilted his head upwards, and said, "Pray for me!",and stood there waiting for us to pray for him. He finally realized that we weren't saying anything and got a little angry. He put his hand out toward us and angrily said, "I command you to leave Satan!" as if we were possessed or something. Honestly, I couldn't help but laugh...that doesn't happen everyday!