Unofficial Slacker

Unofficial (Blogger) Slacker

Well. Here I am. W Polsce. Pretty crazy stuff.

*Brief Message*

I fear the title may give the wrong impression. I'm talking about being a slacker as a blogger, not a missionary. I'm not just chilling in my apartment, counting down the days to coming home. I'm a pretty dilligent little soul. I just didn't want people to think, "Wow. Unofficial Slacker. What a lame missionary." Such is not the case. I'm just bad at blogging. Anyways. As you were.

I would first like to apologize for not being a more diligent and faithful blogger. It's just hard to be a blogger AND a missionary, as it turns out. There's a lot to do, and a lot of people to talk to, and before you know it - BOOM! Your time is gone! So. Apologies.

And now. Wow. I don't even know what to say, because there's so much I could say, and I've said a lot already to other people and I can't remember who's been told what, or what's even something people would find interesting, and here we are! Sorry, I know. I should just say something interesting and that would be good. But instead I'm talking about how I have nothing interesting to say, or I have a lot of interesting things to say ... Either way, this is no fun to read. Sorry. I'll stop.

Poland is good. I like her. She's a fun country.

There are pigeons everywhere. And they don't mind people. They just waddle around (they're huge because the people here feed them. So ridiculous. You don't FEED pigeons), flap their wings a little, do their pigion thang. It's so weird. And they are literally everywhere.

I ride on trams a lot. They're pretty fun. Sometimes the lights flicker on and off. I'm not sure if that's a normal tram thing, or if it's a special trams in Poland thing,

or an extra special trams in Kraków thing. Either way. Fun stuff.

I mostly eat normal food, because we cook for ourselves basically every meal. Which I prefer, because I'm rather picky. Cool stuff. I LOVE the juice. I don't know what's so great about it, but it's just better, as it turns out. My favorite is raspberry/carrot/apple. Sounds weird. And it is weird, because you can actually taste the carrots a little bit. But even so, I love that stuff. My favorite food I've found here is this stuff called Nuss Milk. It's a lot like Nutella, minus it isn't as hazelnutty (or maybe not hazelnutty at all), and it has white chocolate swirled with the milk chocolate. Can you say heaven? I can. Nuss Milk. Also, their yogurt is good. I don't know what's different about it, but I love it. And also, they have good cold cereal. And oatmeal. And this stuff that's kinda like Malt-O-Meal, but it's vanilla flavored. They do breakfast right here in Poland.

My companion is stellar. Her name is Sister Allen, and I just love her! She's so great. She's REALLY good at Polish, which is quite a blessing, because I don't really speak Polish. When you're in the MTC, they tell you you do, but then you get out, and you realize you don't. It's quite an adventure. Like, every waking moment is an adventure.

  

Let's see ... I can't think of anything else really interesting to say. So I guess this is goodbye.

Goodbye.

I am an un[OFFICIAL] slacker. And I PROMISE I'll do better in the future!

Unofficial First Real Email

Let's begin with the plane rides. Wow. SO LONG. Like, wow. I just don't even know what to say. But they were long, and I didn't sleep AT ALL. That was a bit of a bummer. Luckily I had enough adrenline pumping through my veins to keep me going. That was a blessing. I tell you, I never want to go that long without sleep again. It's just not worth it. Ugh. I don't even like thinking about it. I love sleep. 

So then we were in Warsaw, met the mission president, everything was great. My trainer is Sister Allen. Skipping ahead to our train ride to Kraków. We BARELY made the trian before it left (so that was a blessing). However, it was quite crowded because apparently there was some holiday last weekend. So there was no where for us to sit or to put our baggage. Hence we sat on our baggage in the little corridor thing. Yeah. This is also a true story. We literally sat in a hallway on our suitcases, my companion and I. And we talked to this FREAKING CUTE little boy named Kuba. SO cute. Oh my heck. And I tried to talk to him in Polish. He corrected me several times. However, when he asked what my favorite color was, and I said, "Róźowy and żółty," his mother gave me a thumbs up because I said it right. So that was a proud moment. A little bit later this lady with a cart of food and drinks ("Anything from the trolley, dear?" Yes - just like that) came by and made us move. With all our luggage. Which was a pain. So then we had to lug our luggage through, like, four train cars all the way to the front of the train. WHAT a nightmare. Luckily a nice boy named Piotr helped us, so that was cool of him. We taught him a first. He wasn't interested. But he was very nice, so whatever. Good enough. So then we got to Kraków and took our stuff onto the tram (also a pain), and had to pull it through some nice, cold, wet streets to our apartment. On the way I lost the back of my nametag. And then found it yesterday morning. So that was fun. Anyways. What an adventure. We finally got home, then we had to go get food (no one had been in the apartment the last transfer, so we had basically nothing. Like, not even dish soap. We lived like animals for a couple days).

So yeah. Here we are.

Fun story. We were out tractować-ing (when in doubt, add ować to the end of the word, and BOOM! It's Polish.) and we ended up in this building, yeah? So we knock on this door. Get nothing. However, the music in the room next to us stops and we hear someone talking. So we're like, "Yeah. Okay. We'll try this one." So Sister Allen knocks on the door, and this guy, wearing nothing but his underwear (yeah, that's right. You read it right. Super sketch), pokes his head around the doorway and is like, "Yes? I don't speak Polish. Let me get dressed." Yes. You do that. Here, I'll get the door for you. Just for PITY'S SAKE put on some clothes. So the guy gets dressed (and Sister Allen and I are just in the hall, trying to keep the laughter to a minimum) and then he comes back. So we said who we are, and he TOTES let us in for a lesson! Which was unexpected. And fun. And all a little weird. He was French (which explains the, "Oh, let me just answer the door real quick in my skivvies" thing. I mean, really. Why am I not surprised he's French?). So we had a lesson, it was fun. He was weird.

Things have been pretty crazy! Love YOU ALL SO MUCH!

New missionaries from the MTC arrive in Warsaw!