First email from the MTC

Guess what - the MTC has email access! Doo doo dooo! I get half an hour a week to send electronic letters to my family. Great, huh?

Except there's a nice ticking clock up at the top of the screen, telling me how long I have left. 24:25 at the moment.

Now slightly less time. I'd better get into this. Feel free to post as much or as little of this as you want on the blog.

After arriving in the MTC, I was a bit lost for a while. Suffering from culture shock (and blown away by the incredibly wide roads and the ridiculously slow speed limits - oh, and the mountains) and missing home comforts a lot, I was ushered in to the building by one of the senior elders who looks after international missionaries. I was given a quick tour before being taken to the health center for a PPD skin test. I "unfortunately" had to explain that the result would come back positive, as I'd only had the BCG a few months previously. Oh dear, I didn't get poked by another needle.

Instead I was taken out of the MTC and down the road to a separate health center where they X-Rayed me. Perhaps I'll develop some super powers or something - I'm certainly getting a lot better at eating. Oh, and yesterday I picked up a car. But apart from that, no powers yet... :P

With very little to do, besides one short class, I chatted with another British missionary, Elder Kerr from Scotland. He had brought a series of mascots with him - a Celtic bear (that is to say, a teddy bear wearing a little Celtic Football shirt), a CD of British music, and a little Royal Guard figurine. I figured I might need more than my T-shirt, but it was too late to go home and get one.

Also in our room was Elder Santiago, a missionary from the far away land of Michigan, who'd had to arrive a day early, and Elder Tukia, a very friendly Tongan elder who is built like the side of a New Zealand barn (I mention New Zealand because he also lived there for several years).

A little while later, I heard a familiar voice saying, "I know this guy," and turned around to see none other than Elder Leah, the British missionary who'd been held by immigration! Behind him was the elder from Finland, Elder Heikennen. Apparently they'd just missed the terminal closing and had to stay overnight in a hotel near the airport. We chatted for a while and he noticed Elder Kerr's Celtic bear. He told Elder Kerr that we were on the plane to Chicago with the entire Celtic team - something I'd not known because I am, of course, athletically challenged. I'd just thought they were some amateur rugby team or something. Elder Kerr was very jealous.

It turns out the reason that I was let through Immigration and all the other six or seven British elders who came in that day from various airports around the UK were held back (all of them were, except me) was that everyone else had shown a letter that had been in with our plane tickets, informing the customs people that we were training to be missionaries. I'd forgotten that I needed to show mine, and breezed right through without even so much as a bag search - so we see, being forgetful and absent-minded is a trait the Americans welcome with open arms!

You know how, in the UK, when I make a smart alec remark, people just roll their eyes and ignore me? Well here, every joke is worth gold. I've had my companion and the other guys in my district in fits of laughter so often now that I'm sure it can't be doing any good for my ego, or my humility. They also particularly enjoyed the customs form - "Are you, or have you ever been, a Nazi?", etc.

My companion's name is Elder Dallin, and he and I are getting along really well. He's been recording audio tapes for his family on tape recorders that are on sale in the MTC book store, and just loves getting me to say things into the microphone for him. Everyone's in awe of my accent - I can understand what Beth was talking about now! Except I'll bet that when she had loads of teenage boys trying to talk to her, she enjoyed it a lot more than I do.

Which leads me to an interesting point - I'm actually the oldest in my room. Everyone's birthdays are around June-ish, so I'm enjoying being the oldest for once - if certainly not the largest in stature. But that's expected in America.

Well, my time's almost up - I've got 3 minutes left, and the connection's pretty slow. I don't want to lose this entire letter because it's not sent yet. Hopefully next week I'll be able to upload some pictures.

There are several letters (snail mail) on the way to you soon, containing replies to all the letters everyone's sent me through DearElder.com. Please write to me very often - I need lots more post if I'm to compete with my companion, who gets stuff almost every day from his family and girlfriend! Also, it's really nice to hear from you guys. You should all write every day, if possible! I'd like that.

Flight to Salt Lake City

Posting this on behalf on Elder Loffhagen:

I'm currently sitting in the Taylor family's study, typing on a very small Mac keyboard and looking at a very large Mac screen. The keyboard will be the reason for any typos that occur - it's a lot smaller than the ones I'm used to :P

It's currently 10:03 PM MST, which makes it something in the region of 4 AM GMT, meaning that I am somewhat tired after having travelling all day. But I've arrived safely, despite lengthy periods in airports (Chicago was a nightmare!) and even more lengthy flights.

The first flight, Heathrow to Chicago, was absolutely great. Lots of room, friendly cabin staff who made sure I was kept topped up with Fanta or whatever else I may have asked for, a little computer screen built into the chair in front of mine (which I didn't use, of course, but kept turning itself on at times - at seven it flicked on showing the travel route, how far we were ad how far we had to go, and after that I just left it on) and the meal was great - chicken curry, followed by strawberry cheesecake.

Things soon turned for the worse upon arriving in Chicago. The first big sign I saw said "Welcome to Chicago", as you might expect - but the sign also said, in large letters, RBS. Yes, the Royal Bank of Scotland was welcoming me to the airport. You know you're going to have trouble if the airport is so unfriendly that a Scottish bank has to pick up the slack.

Luckily, I was able to slink through customs and immigration without a problem, which was more than can be said for Elder Leah and another Finnish missionary who was on the plane. Both were taken to one side, where they had to wait for something like an hour. I waited for them on the other side of the gateway, guarding their bags from the airport staff who looked like they were pretty desperate to cart off any unattended baggage. I reasoned that, in the unlikely event that one of us miss our flight, we might as well all miss it.

With just 45 minutes to the flight to Salt Lake, the Finnish missionary was able to walk through, escourted by a guard. He picked up his bags and was taken off somewhere - I volunteered to wait for Elder Leah. When he finally came through, with only 20 minutes to go, he was also being escourted by a guard. He picked up his bags and told me, "I'm being taken for interrogation." I nervously asked if I'd better just leave him then, and get on the flight. He agreed that I should.

This put me in a tricky position - I was alone in Chicago airport, with no clue what I was supposed to be doing, and only 20 minutes until my flight was due to leave. Thankfully, one lady helped me fast-track checking in my bags, possibly realising how little time I had, and I was away. Following signs, I ended up on a tram that took me to my terminal, at which point I asked a member of staff what I should do. His concern for me was obvious from the expletive he offered after realising how little time I had to make my flight. He pointed me in the right direction, and I got checked in and pointed in the right direction. I went through the metal detectors right behind a large, slow family, and found myself running around, trying to find the right departure gate, one hand clutching my jacket, hand-luggage and belt, the other holding up my trousers.

For some reason, departure gates in Chicago are assigned letters - only three letters, though; J, H and K. My gate was H16, which made very little sense, and turned out to be right around the other side from where I was. So after a lot more running, I skidded to a halt just outside the terminal, was told off for running by one of the workers there, and just made it onto the plane.

American Airlines are very different from British Airways. While my BA flight was very comfortable and high-tech, I suspect the AA plane was built slightly before the invention of...the wheel. It was small, tightly packed, uncomfortable and creaky. I managed to find my seat (eventually) and the plane took off. The other two elders were nowhere to be seen; I can only assume that they are, still, now being interrogated on suspicion of being terrorists or something stupid. I have to wonder what it was that let me through but detained them - at least they'll have more interesting stories to write home about.

Well, it's now all the later, so I'd better actually try and catch up on some sleep, having been up for nearly 24 hours, and having not got much sleep last night thanks to a certain someone's snoring and clucking...

Open House

My open house last week. I had a great oportunity to say goodbye to a load of people from Reading stake - most of whom I would see again later in the week, making the goodbyes pretty pointless. Still, it was fun to have everybody wishing me luck and such.

Right...

It's currently Saturday the 7th July 2007, at 10:42 PM, GMT. Just a little over a week before I leave on my mission for China Hong Kong, serving for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.

Should be fun.