Week 26 in Savonlinna (Zombies and Kebab and Buses, oh my!)

That's it. That was our week. Those three things:

Well, as usual, here​ ​is the recording (Click Here), summing up my week - however, I'm going to cover the most eventful events of the week, just in case my tired, 9.30 P.M., justgothomefromworkingandbikingandsweatingwhilstsimultaneouslyfreezingmybuttoffandtryingtoremembereverythingwedidoverthepastweekwhilealsobeinghungryandcravingcereal self didn't quite explain it well enough.

-The Buses: We've been trying, due to the perpetual problem that is our bikes, to make use of the bus system here. It's been working out well, albeit having to sprint to the bus stop to make it before it leaves. No worries, I needed the exercise anyways...

-The Kebab: Pronounced KAY-bob. Not kay-BOB. Ahh, the mystery meat of the Arabs. Now, the reason you've never heard of kebab is because it doesn't exist in America. Because America's food laws don't allow meats such as kebab - if you can call it meat. Nobody actually knows what kind of meat is in there - some places, it tastes like mostly beef, and in some places, it has a toughness that we've guessed could be horse or reindeer. Sometimes I refrain from asking. It's sketchy stuff. In the oh-so-eloquent words of Elder McOmber, "Watch it happen. There's a huge roll of who-knows-what kind of meat spinning on a stick. Then a huge, hairy, ape-man of an Arab takes a razor, and fzhhhhzzhzhhh, shaves some of the meat off into a container that probably hasn't been washed since this place opened, and then he takes a plate of similar cleanliness, dumps some french fries onto it, slops the kebab on top, and puts some sauce on, and hands it to you. Enjoy your meal!"

Elder Bolingbroke, why in the world would you eat there? Because it's freakin' delicious, that's why.

-The Zombie: We had a referral from one of our investigators. Now, referrals don't happen, like, at all, over here, so we jump on the opportunity every time we get one. We knock this guy's door, and(this is where it gets weird) a long, gnarled hand with 3-inch-long fingernails opens the door, and I hear a raspy, smoker-voice "tulkaa sisään." Oh boy, what have I gotten myself into? Then the smell hits me. Now, some of you may have heard one of my famous and most embarrassing stories about how I climbed into a small septic tank in Bear Lake, but in case you haven't, trust me on this - I have experience with bad smells. And this one probably tops them all. There is no way on this good planet earth to describe it. (We're still trying to get the smell off of our coats - see the picture) We walk in, and there are tons old movies, old food, and old... how did I phrase this in the recording?... magazines of material not appropriate for children. Or adults. Or anyone, as a matter of fact. We talked with the guy for an hour, and it was a stunningly good gospel conversation. Unfortunately, however(or fortunately, depending on your perspective), he wasn't willing to learn more.

I'll leave it up to you to decide how our week went! Until next time, then! Love you all, Stay warm, stay strong in the gospel!

Love,

Vanhin Bolingbroke