Mormons, Jehova's Witnesses and Thieves...O My

Sometimes interesting people come to the door. Today it was the mormons. I was snapping beans in the kitchen when they arrived... Andrew was up the stairs buying eggs at the pulperia. I saw them, three of them, in their white shirts and black ties and metal name tags, through the window, and I nervously took a handful of beans with me to the door. In normal Flor del Campo fashion I talked to them through the narrow bars of our porch door for a bit until I felt too ridiculous and unlatched the door, exposing myself to their full-on mormon eye contact. They must teach the eye contact thing in missionary training because they are all very good at it. It is hard to maintain constant eye contact with three clean-cut men at the same time, but not to be intimidated, I did my best.

The tall, blond, blue-eyed mormon on the left was surprised and I think a little flustered to find this dirty-haired gringa at the door, socks jammed into flipflops coming up to meet capri pants, green beens in hand. His spanish came out too quickly and a little jumbled, and more than once I had to ask him to repeat himself as he asked me what state I was from and what I was doing here... turns out he's been in the neighborhood 3 months. Believe me, there is nothing more awkward than meeting someone from your own country in both of your second language... ask any expatriate. It is part challenge, part confusion, all awkward. Especially when they are evangelizing you.

I have nothing against mormons. Growing up in the Northwest, I was fascinated by their large families and backyard trampolines, and often wondered if all of them had a propensity for theater or if that was just a phenomena of my particular highschool.

Andrew is nervous and distrustful of mormons... he came back to the house, eggs in hand, eyed them and quickly entered the house after a short greeting. He grew up in the midwest, so mormons were a thing of legends and jokes to him... not the kids tripping next to him in gym class. He prefers to be evangelized by Jehova's Witnesses. It's true, they have more to give and less to ask of you... happy to leave the latest Watchtower pamphlet and the daily scripture, without asking to chat, come inside, or press any life-altering religious decisions. Last weekend it was the Jehova's Witnesses who came knocking. I am nervous and distrutful of Jehova's Witnesses so I hid in the bedroom while Andrew chatted them up. They left after a few minutes and after leafing through the Watchtower a bit he started wondering out loud about JW theology. What is it they believe? Why don't they celebrate birthdays? What is this magical number about anyway? I ignored him.

He popped out the door to see where they went. Only Andrew would ask a JW back to the house. They were just coming back up the stairs, so he flagged them down and politely asked them if they thought everyone but them and their fellow JW's were destined for hell. Now the nice lady with the shade umbrella was the one to be nervous and distrutful, and a little out of her element... she excused herself and went to have a quick conference with her co-horts at the top of the stairs. Two minutes later another nice lady brought the smaller, thicker, “¿Qué Enseña realmente LA BIBLIA?” and said maybe when they had more time they could come back to chat.

Not all of our visitors have a religious motive. Yesterday a young man brought a very blingy (there is no other word to describe it's rhinestone-encrusted amazingness), tech-y, over-the-top cell phone to the door. He held it out to us through the bars, asking if we could please switch the language setting to Spanish, since he couldn't understand any of the English settings. He said a friend had sent it to him. Uh huh. We couldn't figure it out right away so he left it with us, which we let him do because it all happened so fast... and now the blingy thing is sitting on the table two feet in front of me, blue light blinking. We never did figure it out, he never did come back to get it. I don't like having the expensive, clearly-stolen-at-some-point thing in the house, but what to do? We await his return. Maybe it's better to go away for the weekends.