Scenes from Cagayan de Oro

What a surprise it was to arrive and find a big banner across the front of the auditorium announcing the coming week's DVBS seminar.  A smaller one hung in front of the building.  I spent some of the time teaching on general principles of ministry to children and the rest of the time getting the students ready for their summer ministry of holding Vacation Bible School in churches throughout the area.

The boys sat on one side of the room, and the girls on the other.  So when we broke into discussion groups, it was usually a group of all boys or all girls.

Do you need to go somewhere that is too far to walk, but not on the route that the jeepneys and buses travel?  Then you need a bicycle with a side cart.

These vehicles are actually a small van body built onto a motorcycle.  They usually travel the smaller streets and have regular routes.

Do you need to have something carried?  You might be able to hire this young man to do it for you.

Security guards abound.  Every store and shopping mall has at least one.  They inspect your bags and purses when you walk in.  If there is a perceived threat, you might have to leave your shopping bags with them while you shop.

When we think of reaching out to Muslims, we do not always think of the Philippines, but Mindanao has many Muslim faithful who live there.  I encountered these ladies in the mall, and they graciously allowed me to take their picture.

Blessings in Disguise

"In everything give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you."  I Thess. 5:18

The miles passed quickly as we made our way in the car from Mercedes, in Corrientes, Argentina to Concordia, where we were going to cross the bridge into Salto, Uruguay.  As we approached the bridge, orange cones blocked the access and a police woman stood on the side of the road.

“What is going on?” Anibal asked.  “We’re going to Salto.”

“I am sorry, sir,” she said.  “The bridge is closed for repair.  It will open again in the evening.”

“But these two have to get to Montevideo,” Anibal explained.  “They have a flight out tomorrow.”

The policewoman kindly offered the available choices: 

• Wait until the bridge re-opened and go across then.  We knew that was not a good option because we would miss the afternoon buses to Montevideo.
• Go down to the next bridge which was more than 60 miles away.  That was not a good option for Anibal because it would take him further out of his way and delay his return home.
• Go into the next town to the Navy base where we could catch a boat across the river.

The third option was obviously the best one, so Anibal turned the car around and drove down the road.  After meandering through the town, we eventually found the Navy base where we got out and asked about the schedule.

"The boat just left and the next one is not until 3:00 p.m."

Oh well, there was nothing to do except wait for the next one.  We had plenty of time, so we left the car at the Navy base and headed out on foot to find lunch.  It was not even noon yet and many of the restaurants were just opening.  We walked along the sidewalk and saw one restaurateur setting tables outside.  

"Are you open?" we asked.  

"If you wait just a moment while I finish setting up," the owner replied.

We ordered burgers.  The typical Argentine burger comes with a fried egg on top and lettuce and tomato.  Charlie asked for mustard, but since it is not a normal condiment, we were charged for the entire bottle.  At the end of the meal, I asked about a tip.

"We do not usually do that," Anibal told us.  "Besides, you are leaving behind the bottle of mustard.  Let that be your tip."

Getting to experience a typical Argentine burger was a blessing.  It was a blessing in disguise because it came with a delay in our schedule.  If we had gone across on the bridge or if the boat had not just left, we would not have been able to experience that.

We headed back to the base.  We said our goodbyes to Anibal and continued to wait.  At 3:00 we boarded the boat and headed across the river to Salto.

In Salto, we got a taxi to take us to the bus station.  The taxi driver said to us, “I was born in Salto.  I have lived here all of my life, but I have never taken the boat across to Argentina.”  Without even realizing it, we had experienced what he thought was a novelty.  It was, to be sure, another blessing in disguise.

Days before, when we left Montevideo, we made arrangements with our missionaries there to stay at a hotel near to their home so that we could spend time with them.  Now we were very delayed and had no idea when we would arrive.  We contacted them to let them know they should not expect us.  At this point, we had no idea when we would actually arrive in Montevideo.  Of course, that meant that we had no idea where we would stay that night.

We arrived at the bus station and saw a Days Inn across the street.  An unexpected blessing.  We would not have to worry about having enough money for a taxi.  We could just walk there.  And yes, they had a room available.

In the morning, Charlie and I joined other hotel guests on the tenth floor for a typical Uruguayan breakfast of fruit, pastries and coffee.  After breakfast, I sat at one of the tables with my Bible and notebook in hand and marveled at this blessing in disguise.  Little did we know the night before as we pulled into the city that I would be able to sit on the tenth floor of a high-rise, enjoying my quiet time with the Lord with such a beautiful view around me.

The following day we boarded our plane to return to the U.S.  A few minutes after our scheduled departure, a deep voice came over the intercom.  “This is your captain speaking.  We are sorry for the delay.  There was a problem with a seal.  It is not something that will interfere with our flying, but we need to have the maintenance book signed off before we can fly.  Thank you for your patience.”

A half hour later we were still waiting.  Once again we heard the captain.  “Thank you so much for your patience.  I really thought we would be flying tonight, but because of some very bad weather over the Amazon, we have been informed that we cannot fly the plane with the problem with the seal.  I am so sorry.  This is a surprise to me.  I really thought we would be leaving tonight.”

So we all got off the plane and re-entered Uruguay.  The agent crossed off our exit stamps from a few hours earlier.  We reclaimed our luggage and headed for a hotel for the night.  As we drove through streets that were starting to become familiar, I realized we were heading for a different part of the city.  Now we would receive a night in a beautiful hotel with my loving husband, and even our meals were mostly covered. This was definitely another blessing in disguise.  

Traveling the world has helped us to understand that we can expect changes to our plans.  Yet even so, sometimes our reaction to the change shows that we do not appreciate the change.  We can chafe at the sudden change instead of finding the treasure in the adventure.  Instead of looking for the blessing, we focus on what was lost instead of what we gained.  No wonder we need to be reminded that we are to rejoice in everything.

Thank you, Lord, for your blessings, especially those that come disguised.
  

Uruguay, You Impress Me

Four large numbers on orange cubes marked the gates at Montevideo's airport.  Four gates at this international airport.  Wonderful!  A small airport for a change.  We descended into a modern, clean facility.

At immigration I was immediately impressed by the lack of paperwork.  No forms to fill out and no questions to answer.  The immigration and customs officials were efficient and courteous.  We did not have to open our bags at customs.  They were simply put through a scanner.

At the conference center, the staff was helpful and the meals were excellent.

On our way back from being in Argentina, we needed to cross back into Uruguay by boat since the bridge was under construction.

"Ma'am, may I help you?" a young woman asked as I struggled along the sidewalk with my two suitcases and carry-on in tow.  She took the smaller case from me and we continued on until we got to the boat.  At the boat, a man grabbed my large suitcase and the one she had and carried them both inside.

Wow, I thought.  The people here sure are kind.

When we arrived on the other side, we passed through immigration and customs.  Once again it was quick and efficient.

We walked out into the street.  We were obviously on the outskirts of Salto, the second largest city in Uruguay.  We wondered where we could find a taxi.

"May I help you?" another young woman asked as she saw us looking up and down the streets trying to figure out which way we should go.

"We need a taxi to take us to the bus station," I told her.

She whipped out her cell phone and called a taxi service.  "Just wait here," she said, "and they will be here in about fifteen minutes."  She smiled, tucked her cell phone into her purse and left.  We sat down on a park bench to wait.

The respect for others extends to waiting in line.  For the first time in many years, we saw orderly lines as people waited for buses and taxis.  At the bus station as we were waiting to load our luggage, a teenage girl nearby was obviously perturbed.  "Lots of people, right?" I said to her.

"Lots of people who are not waiting in line," she responded grimly.

The next day we were walking through a park.  An elderly man missed a step, stumbled, and fell. Immediately, people were at his side to check on him and help him up.  In many cities, people would stare but not help,

Unlike in many countries where we travel, we do not stand out as much here.  Everywhere people spoke to us in Spanish instead of assuming that we were North Americans.  In some countries, people talk to us in order to practice their English. Instead, they seemed genuinely concerned about two strangers.  At the bus station, the hotels and even out on the street, people seemed to bend over backwards to be respectful and helpful, even those who were not paid to serve us.

Uruguay, you impressed me.  Or maybe, to put it more correctly, your kind people really impressed me. 

Three Countries in One Day

The alarm’s melody permeated my dreams at 4:45 a.m.  We abandoned the comfort of our beds and twenty minutes later, everything was packed and ready.  I looked across the drive and saw lights in the conference room.  Maybe someone was there getting ready for breakfast, I thought to myself.  Maybe there would be coffee. 

“I’m going over there,” I told Charlie as I pointed to the lighted conference room.  I quickly crossed the driveway in the drizzling rain, with my Bible and notebook in my hand. 

View from the balcony of the conference center.

No one was there.  Teabags and hot water were available, though, so I made a cup of tea and sat down to praise the Lord as I watched the dawn lighten the sky.  Although it was misty and overcast, I marveled at the beauty surrounding me.  I listened as the waves pounded the shore and birds called to each other as they flew overhead.  I thanked the Lord for letting us come to Uruguay.

Before long, a small navy blue SUV arrived.  Anibal Fornazarich, our Uruguayan missionary to Argentina, was at the wheel.  Tied to the top were small suitcases covered over by a blue tarp.  I joined them and helped Charlie take our suitcases to the car.  When they were all loaded behind the back seat, we clambered in next to their teenage son and took off.  A few miles down the road, we heard the tarp flapping loudly.  We stopped and retied the part that had come loose and continued on.

After a while I fell asleep.  The short night was catching up with me.  When I awoke, we had left the city of Montevideo far behind and were surrounded by farmland and sheep and cattle ranches.  If I had forgotten where I was, I might have thought I was in Wisconsin or Ontario. 

“When we get to Rivera” Anibal explained, “we cross over into Brazil.  But it’s a soft border.  You don’t have to worry.  You won’t need a visa.”

When we arrived in Rivera, we wound our way through the city, heading toward downtown.  We stopped at a stoplight.  María, Anibal’s wife, pointed to busy boulevard in front of us.  “This side is Uruguay.  That side is Brazil.  We are now in Uruguay.”

When we crossed to the other side of the boulevard, and María started to laugh.  “And now we are in Brazil.  You could cross back and forth between Brazil and Uruguay many times in one day here.  In fact, most people shop on the Brazilian side because the prices are cheaper, regardless of where they live.”

Brazilian gas was definitely cheaper than Uruguayan gasoline, so Anibal filled the tank, paying with Brazilian Reales.  Then we passed the main plaza in the center of town.  On one corner stood a Uruguayan flag.  On the other flew a Brazilian flag. 

When we left town, the signs along the sides of road in Portuguese let us know that we were still in Brazil.  We drove for almost an hour and made a turn onto another highway.  We passed a sign in front of an unmanned building proclaiming, “Customs and Immigration”.  Evidently, we were returning to Uruguay.

We headed to a home in Uruguay’s northern town of Artigas.  There a group of believers gathered for a service.  What a privilege it was to meet them.  Even though they have no pastor right now, they continue to meet together.  They were excited to hear from a pastor for the first time in a long time.  They “ate up” what Charlie taught.

We left Artigas and passed back into Brazil.  We found a Brazilian steakhouse.  At 10 p.m., it was still the dinner hour, so the restaurant was busy.  We declined the service of “meat on a stick” since the buffet was large without it.  Otherwise they would have kept bringing us steak and chicken from the rotisserie until we were stuffed.  Not only did we not need that much food, we were in too much of a hurry to get to our destination to spend enough time to enjoy such gastronomic delights.

At 11:30, we left the steakhouse and drove back into Uruguay.  We drove on through the darkness, over bridges where the moon shone on the lake.  I wished I could have seen the landscape in the daylight because I could tell that it was beautiful.  I looked in the sky for the Southern Cross but I did not find it.  Two hours later, we approached the Uruguayan/Argentine border.  At the border, the Uruguayan office was closed.  Anibal knew, however, that we needed to document our exit from Uruguay since we would be coming back into Uruguay in order to fly back to the U.S.  If we did not have the exit stamped, we would have to pay a fine.  He got out of the car and asked a policeman what to do. 

“Oh, there is an office open ahead,” he said. 

A mile ahead, a sign indicated where we needed to go.  We got our passports stamped exiting the country.  A couple miles later, we passed into Argentina.  We got out of the car once more and headed into the immigration office.

“Have you paid the reciprocal fee?” asked the agent.

Fortunately I knew that he was talking about the visa and showed it to him.  (Argentina charges the same fee for their visa as the applicant’s country charges for an Argentine to obtain a visa, so instead of talking about a visa, he asked about the fee.)  Our visas from five years ago were still good, so he stamped our visas and we were once again on our way.

Just before 3:00 a.m. we arrived at the hotel where we were staying.  We rapped on the door for several minutes before the night watchman arrived.  We set our alarms for 7:00 a.m. and were so thankful to be able to stretch out in bed.  The long day was over.  Tomorrow was already here.  It was time to get some quick shut eye. 

  

A Day in Iquitos, Peru

We arrived last night at 6:00 p.m.  The sun had just set, but the air was clear.  We picked up our luggage and headed out to the parking lot to find the expected shuttle to the hotel.  Instantly we were swarmed by taxi drivers wanting our fare.  The shuttle was late, but we assured them we would wait for it.  Behind me, a person was so anxious to get to her car that she ran into me with her luggage cart, pushing my feet out from under me so that I landed on her suitcases.  Thankfully, I was not hurt.

We waited for about a half an hour for our ride.  The hotel van eventually drove in, but the driver was unaware that we were waiting, so he pulled into the departures section of the airport rather than the arrivals.  We took our luggage to him and we pulled out into traffic a few minutes later.

On all sides we were surrounded by motorcycles and motorcycle-cabs.   Palm trees lined the main road.  We passed a plaza, and I thought we might be getting close since our hotel is near the plaza.  However, it was only the first of four plazas that we passed on our way to the hotel.

We settled into the second floor of the hotel.  Our room overlooks the main road, so traffic noise is fairly constant.  We could not see much in the darkness, so we decided to head out and find some supper.  Our colleagues at IPM had suggested a restaurant, and it did not take long for us to find it.  Obviously a popular place, it was filled with customers.  Judging from their appearance, almost all were tourists.

Charlie ordered roasted garlic chicken with a side of plantain chips.  I ordered a burger with a side of french fries.  I love the freshly squeezed lemonade they have here, so I ordered that to go with my meal.

When we were finishing our meal, I noticed that one of my earrings was missing.  Oh well.  It had fallen off once before, so it was to be expected that I would eventually lose it. Then Charlie noticed a little girl trying to reach something under my chair.  It was the missing earring.

We thanked her in Spanish.  Then her parents spoke up.

"Where are you from?" they asked in English accented with German flair. 

"The U.S." we replied.

"We were trying to guess," they replied, "and we both guessed wrong.  He thought you might be German and I thought you might be French or maybe French Canadian."

On our way back to the hotel, we walked through the central plaza.  Children played.  Couples held hands and talked softly.  Tourists gawked and took pictures of the fountains.  I think I could get used to living here, I thought.

This morning we woke to cloudy skies, but I could see the water of the Amazon River from our room.  We have to get out there, I thought.  A few minutes later, the phone rang.  Aladino, was one of the men who will be in the classes next week was here to greet us.  Charlie went down to meet him.  They walked down the road a while, taking in the view of the bustling city - the boardwalk along the river, the fish market, and people hurrying off to do their business of the day.  Later they returned, and we told him we would meet around 11:00 andto take a walk through town.

At breakfast, there were four choices of juice - papaya, cocona, camu-camu, and chirimoya.  I knew what papaya was, so I tried a couple of the others.  A buffet of scrambled eggs, fresh bread, various meats such as sausage and bacon, and fresh fruit gave me plenty of food to choose.  I savored the excellent coffee.  We may be in a coffee producing country, but often instant coffee is served, so I really appreciated the brewed, flavorful coffee.

At 11:00, we headed out together.  We continued our walk down the boardwalk in the opposite direction from which Charlie had gone that morning.  I stopped to take a few pictures of the river.  Eventually we found the main market.  Teeming with people and produce, I was glad that we had a guide to maneuver through the stalls.  I saw fruits I had never seen before.  Aladino gave us the names of those we had not seen before.

Charlie also needed a hat to keep the sun off his bald head.  We found one that could work in a small department store, but the price was higher than he wanted to pay, so we kept looking.  A few blocks later, on a stand at the side of the intersection, a woman had a rack full of men's hats.  He asked her price.  Satisfied with her prices, he began to look.  A little while later, he had his hat.  He offered five soles less than she requested.  She accepted his offer, and he walked away with a new hat.

"May we take you to lunch?" we asked Aladino.  "Perhaps you know of a place nearby?"

We walked some more and eventually came to the place he had in mind.   We ordered a plate of fried chicken with rice and beans, and a side of fresh fruit.  The meal came with a drink.  One of the drinks was "Cebada" which we had not had before, so we ordered that.  We were unsure what it was when we tasted it.  Later we found out that it was a drink made from roasted barley with added lemon and sugar.  Tasty!

When we finally returned to the hotel, we said goodbye to Aladino.  "We'll see you tomorrow," we told him.  I headed upstairs for a nap.  After the busy weeks we have had, I needed some rest.  Today was a day for rest.  Tomorrow the work starts.