Tia Picola--Pizza from the Gods

February 26-27, 2002

Another P-Day, another pizza. The Italian pizza place just up the street is killer. The guy who runs it was born in Italy, and moved to Brazil 10 years ago. I can't tell that he's not native Brazilian. After our pizza, we went to the park up the street and met some tokers. They invited us to join in, and we politely declined.

Later, a middle-aged man walked up to us on the street and asked us about "Jose Smith." He seemed rather agitated and made big motions with his hands and arms. I caught "Jose Smith blah blah blah blah blah...Jose Smith....blah blah blah...nao bom...muito bem...blah blah." As soon as he could tell that we weren't catching much of what he said, this sweet man slowed down and very meticulously pronounced his words. It sounded like "Jose Smith...BLAH......BLAH......BLAH. .....BLAH...Bom, etc." Well, with what little Portugues we knew, we communicated the idea that we were missionaries with a message about Christ and the Book of Mormon.

I really can't wait to get out of this place and share the gospel. I'm not grasping the language as well as I feel I can. I'm more frustrated than I ever have been in my life. There is nothing more important to me than sharing the gospel with the people of Amazonas, but to do that effectively, I need to be at least efficient in the language. I have never struggled so much to be good at something in my whole life. I have never fought for something more. While I study my scriptures, others study Portuguese. It feels like I'm falling behind. But I know if I keep the schedule and learn of my God, then Portugues will follow in time. It's still tough though

2-27
Two notes:

1. I think I fell in love with the cashier lady at the Pizza place--Priscilla (Is that OK to say as a missionary? Probably not...)

2. I'm losing my companion and my respect for him. While I'm getting frustrated with the language and can't seem to memorize anything for the life of me, my companion now feels he can take off whenever, so long as he's back in a few minutes. He spends more time with one of the Americans (Elder Lords) in our room than with me. Not to say that I'm a jealous man by any means, but this guy's supposed to be our District Leader. Our Example! He's not really motivating or inspiring anyone at this point. Right now, I wouldn't follow him into a 7-11, let alone the Mission Field.

(Author's note: Please remember that I'm a 19-year-old boy on his own for the first time in a foreign country in a rigid, regimented structure. Let's just say that Elder Clark and I...well, you'll find out as you read on.)