New Friends

Conference Weekend went well. I can say that I hadn't looked forward to General Conference with so much anticipation since I was a missionary. The only difference between then and now however was that now I was simply so excited to go so I could have "friends" for a bit. And it was nice. So now I can say that I have friends; Elder and Sister Hunter are now my new BFFs. Now, I know they're old enough to be my grandparents but that doesn't matter.

On Sunday morning I hopped on the bus I thought went right past the chapel (which lies about 20 minutes away by bus). Soon enough however, I realized this bus was not going to the chapel at all (I had gone yesterday, tagging along with the missionaries, so I knew enough to know I was not in the right place). And yes, soon enough I was the only passenger left on the bus. The old Russian woman who takes tickets kept looking at me as if to say, "ah ah? when?" and I could only smile awkwardly. Finally we arrived at the final stop and she motioned to get off. Great. I wandered around asking if anyone knew English. Some said no, a few shook their heads, and one lady wouldn't even respond - maybe she thought I was trying to sell her something; I don't know. Eventually I found a guy who spoke English, and asked him if just by a small, smidgen of a chance, he knew where the Mormon church was. To my utter astonishment, he did! Not only did he know where it was, he was going on the bus the would pass right by it! I was saved! I would not be left out to be eaten by wolves!

So here I was on this bus, thinking life's all hunkey-dorey going to church - I mean, I had just been miraculously rescued! Well, along comes the ticket taker (again, an older Russian woman. They're all babushkas. Why? I don't know. But a fact nonetheless) asking to see my ticket. I don't really understand why they even have tickets because you pay the driver when you get on, just like you would in the States. Then, once in a while, this "conduktora" comes around asking for the ticket the driver gave you, as if to make sure you didn't somehow sneak by him in the narrow little entrance onto the bus. Well, I couldn't find the stupid stub. Before you know it, I have this old babushka yelling at me and then writing up a citation and asking me to pay a 2 Lat fine ($4.00). (sigh) Through this, the guy who was helping me find the church, Goethe by name, graciously tried to explain to her that I did pay, that he saw me, and to ask the driver for assurance. Needless to say, NOPE. To add to it all, this occurred as we passed the chapel, which meant that when I finally paid her, waited for her to write out this citation, and got off the bus, I had to backtrack a good distance back to the chapel. hmmmm. At least making new friends made me feel better (and maybe they will invite me over to dinner one day).