Today we woke up and Skyped with Rob back home. "What time is it there?" he asked. "4:30" we responded. "In the Morning?" He asked with insulting disbelief. "You guys can't even stay up past 9:30 at home!" Guess we're still not really on Sweden time yet. We got dressed and headed to the bus station to buy a bus pass to get to the church. Craig is annoyed that we have to buy everything the same day, as none of the machines will accept a credit card without a pin number. We were not sure we were waiting at the right bus stop to get to church when we spotted two familiar figures in white shirts. The local missionaries and an older couple led us to the right spot, and we had plenty of time to mingle with locals before the services began. We stayed for all 3 hours, and Craig was having a great time plying the svenska, but I feared I'd just be staring at the front with a smile pasted on my face the entire time. Wrong!! A nice little Finnish lady sat next to me and translated - now and then inserting her own commentary: "She says you have to follow a recipe to get a cake, but I don't agree, I never use recipes. " It was interesting how much I got out of the lesson when I had to concentrate instead of allowing myself to zone out like I sometimes do. When I complimented her on her English she brushed it off: "No, I don't speak American English well. I am better at British English and Australian English. American English is my poorest language. I prefer Italian and German and even French to American English. (Since she speaks Finnish and Swedish as well, you can add up the languages this little woman knows on two hands.)
On the bus back toward the hotel, I took a picture of two of the Elders and posted it on the Missionary Mommas FB site just asking if anyone knew them. Sure enough, within 2 hours the Elders were identified, reminisced upon, and their grateful mothers emailed with the image. Ah - the powers of moms around the world. On the walk back to the hotel from the bus stop, thunder rolled, lightning cracked, and the skies opened up with an absolute DELUGE. My shoes are still drying out from my attempt to wash off all the Icelandic mud, so I was wearing sandals. I could not stand the idea of soggy feet once again, so I dragged Craig (the crazy man loves a thunderstorm; he just stood there with this lopsided grin, staring at the sky, getting soaked) to the nearest shelter, which was a little restaurant, and decided to get lunch while waiting out the storm. Craig had the fish and chips and I ordered the shrimp and chips. Except the shrimp was served cold with all the legs and even the creepy little eyes staring at me. No way was I eating that! I felt bad, but I had to send it back for a salad. I've noticed that there's no tipping here in Sweden, but there also is not much service. I could have asked a waitress details about the dishes but there is little table service here. You order from a harried person at the bar and then they deliver your food to the table. So much for trying to puzzle out Swedish menus!
The storm was over in an hour, and the sun returned, just not as hot as yesterday. We took a bus across town to the Swedish veterinary school. It was a Sunday AND summer break, so nobody was there, but at least we could visit and take some selfies with the various signs. I am not providing any translations, so you are on your own guessing all these, but they all have some kind of meaning in our collected carreers. Lycka til. (That's good luck in Swedish.)
Tomorrow we are off to Göteborg, providing Craig can get us tickets in the morning.