My little latin love story. Part 2 of who knows how many.

When we last left our hero... -where was I? Oh yeah- I was calling my a sister missionary that I knew.


"I’m looking for Milagros. Is she at home at the moment?”

“That’s me”

“Hi, I don’t know if you remember me but I’m Elder Breakdown or at least I used to be.” Her voice dropped a little. If I remembered right she didn’t care much for my companion or myself very much. It didn’t help that my companion didn’t care much for her either. My companion, Elder Segura (We called him Elder Sure), was a native Peruvian and was very proud of the way he spoke Spanish. It really irritated him the way this particular sister missionary spoke fluently the Spanish form of Jive/Hibonics and she spoke it often. I never really cared either way. I just supported my companion in his rants of how we were representatives of the Lord and that we needed to speak as such. She would always retort with “I’m just speaking in a way that makes people feel comfortable and doesn’t make them think I am better than them.” They had these types of fights all the time and I was almost sure that my companion would start them out of spite. Most of these fights would end the way parents would end fights with their kids. “I’m the Zone Leader and this is the way things are.” Once she added a military salute at the end before walking away with her companion. I had to stop myself from laughing out loud.

“Elder Breakdown, yes I remember you. How are you?”

“I’m good just trying to make it though post-mission life.” And so went our conversation. Her talking about all her failed relationships, mainly the guy she just broke up with was just a lazy bum and she wasn’t going to marry one of those. And me whining about how every time I began to really care about a girl she would dump me for some silly reason. She was very sympathetic but she didn’t pity me, and in fact spoke more of trying again anyway despite the bad experiences. I was pleasantly surprised by her point of view and was glad that I had called her. She made me feel good and I felt that I was talking to somebody who understood my point of view. I had to end the call, my job was only a little better than minimum wage; it’s ten-cents a minute to call Peru and we had already been talking for an hour. We exchanged our e-mail addresses and said good-bye.

To be continued...