This post is about my mission, to see the other similar posts, click on the mission tab under "labels."
Where was I? Oh yes, Pato Branco! Well, you see, the Brazil Florianopolis Mission is comprised of the whole southern state of Santa Catarina (which is much like the shape and size of North Carolina, and borders Argentina on the west side), and also includes two small pieces of its neighboring state to the north, Parana (not to be confused with the carnivorous fish). The capital city, also the city of the mission home, is situated on an island just off the coast, so close, in fact, that a suspension bridge, Ponte Hercilio Luz, spans the distance. The bridge, which is beautifully lit up at night, has become the symbol of the city.
All of the larger cities, and the stakes of the church, are on, or near, the coast, and within a few hours drive from Floripa: Joinville, Itajai, Sao Jose, Tubarao, and Lages, which is a good distance inland, up-and-over the sierra. There are also three districts in the mission, which are spread out over a much larger area, encompassing many small towns and cities, and are farther from Floripa: Ipomeia (where the church first began in Brazil), Uniao da Vitoria, and Chapeco (ranked in order from closest to farthest). With highway conditions as they are in Brazil, the city of Chapeco is about a 8-9 hour bus ride from Floripa, with the wind at your back.
The reason I'm saying all this, is to put things into perspective. Pato Branco is about 4 hours north of Chapeco (12 hours from the mission home), and is the 2nd farthest area from Floripa in the mission. After serving in one exceptional area, Guaratuba, only one of two small corners in the mission that were not in Santa Catarina, I was transferred to Biguacu, a small city north of Sao Jose and within sight of the island, where I stayed for a mere 6 weeks. After which, I was transferred to the other exceptional area, the other corner outside of Santa Catarina. All in all, I spent one whole year outside of the state of my mission home. My friends used to joke with me by saying, "you should have served in Missao Curitiba!" Which is the mission located in the capitol of Parana.
I was supposed to make the long trip with three other elders headed in the same direction. So, I packed my two suitcases, and got a ride from a member with a car to the main rodoviaria in floripa, arriving just before time to board. I met the others, quickly got my passage, and got on the bus, glad I hadn't missed it. I was surprised when I saw that the other three had not yet got on, and I got nervous as the time for departure came nearer, and nearer, and finally the driver closed the doors, and drove off! I was in a state of shock. Not knowing what to do, I looked out my window and spotted my bewildered companions, watching the bus leave with their hands raised to the tops of their heads. It was then I realized I would be making that 12 hour trip solo-- no companion. I felt terrified--like I was naked, or something.
I got off at the first stop, in the city of Blumenau, and called the mission office. One of my would-be companions answered, and apparently, they had been looking all over the station for me, not knowing I had already got on the bus, and so, had missed it. I asked what I should do, to which President Dansie replied, "just go alone, they will follow on another bus." Although I was honored at the sign of trust my president had just placed in me, I was still wary of making such a long trip with no moral support, and I had good reason: I sat behind a young man looking at pornographic magazines a good portion of the way, and they played not one, but two R-rated movies on the screens during the bus ride! For most of the trip, I rode with a thick blanket over my head.
My journal entry from Aug 11, 2005, reads: "It's 3 in the morning, I'm in Pato Branco, PR. I'll explain later." As I mentioned earlier, I barely had time to pack before leaving after finding out I was being transferred, not to mention time to journal. My companion, Elder Melo from Mato Grosso do Sul, came with my group from the CTM to the mission, so we had met before. I was assigned to be his senior companion, even though he was several years older than me, had been in the area longer, and spoke better than I, being Brasileiro and all. It was because he had not yet mastered the material we taught, so my goal was to help him do that. The city was unlike any I had yet seen in the mission: it was, squished, so to speak, in a small valley with steep hills climbing up three sides of it. Because we were on foot, with little allowance for bus fares, the sight of the hills made my feet and legs ache, but not since Guaratuba had I met people who were so nice and receptive.
The people of Santa Catarina are, for the most part, of more recent European descent: German, Italian, etc. They have fairer complexions, and much colder and curt manners than the people of Parana, who some Catarinenses refer to as "macacos," or monkeys. Their speech is also much more metropolitan and correct than those of the small towns in Parana where I served, but I would gladly have spent both years working among the Paranaenses, if I could have chosen. They had a much more agrarian, friendly, and hospitable attitude than most of the people I met in Santa Catarina, not to mention they were much happier.
Pato Branco began as an inn run by Italian immigrants near a pond with ducks, hence its name. The inn was at the bottom of a small valley surrounded by large farms and thick forest, or mato. As it grew, the city began climbing up the sides of the hills, and dozens of high-rise apartment buildings sprang up around the city center, which, as any self-respecting Brazilian city should, maintains an ornate Catholic cathedral, and central plaza, or praca. Around the city, stretching for countless miles, are still huge plantations of corn, beans, and soy, and occasionally a little thicket of forest. It's beautiful.
The branch in Pato Branco was small, and had been for the last 15 years. Virtually all of the men who had the priesthood in the branch had been, at one time, the branch president. There were about 50 active and semi-active members, and about 12-15 families. Their main goals were to get enough membership to someday become a ward, when the district became a stake, and also to build a real chapel to meet in. Those had been their goals for years, and they seemed no nearer then, than 10 years past. When I was there, they met in a small, rented, wooden house which they modified into a church.
Our baptismal font, was a caixa da agua, a blue fiberglass water tank, which we would set up on the back patio and fill with the hose when we had a baptism. It was there that I first baptized someone on my mission: an 8 year-old girl whose parents were members, but who lived too far outside the city to come to church regularly. She reminded me of myself in some ways, and I hope that her situation has changed, or will change, to enable her to be active in the church.
The current branch president, Joelsio de Rufato, was a young, ambitious, stern, and inspiring man. He told me his favourite book in church literature was Spencer W. Kimball's Miracle of Forgiveness, which I have never read, but I hear compels even the most righteous person to their knees in sore repentance. He led the congregation with an iron fist, covered in a velvet glove. One minute, his rebukes would make you want to crawl into a hole, the next, you would feel he were your loving parent, who prayed for you incessantly.
I had heard horror stories about how much he distrusted the missionaries, and how difficult he made their work, but for some reason, he opened up to me, and I could feel that he sensed a partner in me, and one who shared his vision and who he could trust. He was very helpful and supportive during my 7 1/2 months in Pato Branco. And because of our trust and cooperation with him and the other leaders, my last days in Pato Braco were very successfull, and the area continued to prosper long after I was replaced: I received letters and pictures of many who I had taught and found who were baptized and reactivated, and that was one of the greatest joys of my mission.
Where was I? Oh yes, Pato Branco! Well, you see, the Brazil Florianopolis Mission is comprised of the whole southern state of Santa Catarina (which is much like the shape and size of North Carolina, and borders Argentina on the west side), and also includes two small pieces of its neighboring state to the north, Parana (not to be confused with the carnivorous fish). The capital city, also the city of the mission home, is situated on an island just off the coast, so close, in fact, that a suspension bridge, Ponte Hercilio Luz, spans the distance. The bridge, which is beautifully lit up at night, has become the symbol of the city.
All of the larger cities, and the stakes of the church, are on, or near, the coast, and within a few hours drive from Floripa: Joinville, Itajai, Sao Jose, Tubarao, and Lages, which is a good distance inland, up-and-over the sierra. There are also three districts in the mission, which are spread out over a much larger area, encompassing many small towns and cities, and are farther from Floripa: Ipomeia (where the church first began in Brazil), Uniao da Vitoria, and Chapeco (ranked in order from closest to farthest). With highway conditions as they are in Brazil, the city of Chapeco is about a 8-9 hour bus ride from Floripa, with the wind at your back.
The reason I'm saying all this, is to put things into perspective. Pato Branco is about 4 hours north of Chapeco (12 hours from the mission home), and is the 2nd farthest area from Floripa in the mission. After serving in one exceptional area, Guaratuba, only one of two small corners in the mission that were not in Santa Catarina, I was transferred to Biguacu, a small city north of Sao Jose and within sight of the island, where I stayed for a mere 6 weeks. After which, I was transferred to the other exceptional area, the other corner outside of Santa Catarina. All in all, I spent one whole year outside of the state of my mission home. My friends used to joke with me by saying, "you should have served in Missao Curitiba!" Which is the mission located in the capitol of Parana.
I was supposed to make the long trip with three other elders headed in the same direction. So, I packed my two suitcases, and got a ride from a member with a car to the main rodoviaria in floripa, arriving just before time to board. I met the others, quickly got my passage, and got on the bus, glad I hadn't missed it. I was surprised when I saw that the other three had not yet got on, and I got nervous as the time for departure came nearer, and nearer, and finally the driver closed the doors, and drove off! I was in a state of shock. Not knowing what to do, I looked out my window and spotted my bewildered companions, watching the bus leave with their hands raised to the tops of their heads. It was then I realized I would be making that 12 hour trip solo-- no companion. I felt terrified--like I was naked, or something.
I got off at the first stop, in the city of Blumenau, and called the mission office. One of my would-be companions answered, and apparently, they had been looking all over the station for me, not knowing I had already got on the bus, and so, had missed it. I asked what I should do, to which President Dansie replied, "just go alone, they will follow on another bus." Although I was honored at the sign of trust my president had just placed in me, I was still wary of making such a long trip with no moral support, and I had good reason: I sat behind a young man looking at pornographic magazines a good portion of the way, and they played not one, but two R-rated movies on the screens during the bus ride! For most of the trip, I rode with a thick blanket over my head.
My journal entry from Aug 11, 2005, reads: "It's 3 in the morning, I'm in Pato Branco, PR. I'll explain later." As I mentioned earlier, I barely had time to pack before leaving after finding out I was being transferred, not to mention time to journal. My companion, Elder Melo from Mato Grosso do Sul, came with my group from the CTM to the mission, so we had met before. I was assigned to be his senior companion, even though he was several years older than me, had been in the area longer, and spoke better than I, being Brasileiro and all. It was because he had not yet mastered the material we taught, so my goal was to help him do that. The city was unlike any I had yet seen in the mission: it was, squished, so to speak, in a small valley with steep hills climbing up three sides of it. Because we were on foot, with little allowance for bus fares, the sight of the hills made my feet and legs ache, but not since Guaratuba had I met people who were so nice and receptive.
The people of Santa Catarina are, for the most part, of more recent European descent: German, Italian, etc. They have fairer complexions, and much colder and curt manners than the people of Parana, who some Catarinenses refer to as "macacos," or monkeys. Their speech is also much more metropolitan and correct than those of the small towns in Parana where I served, but I would gladly have spent both years working among the Paranaenses, if I could have chosen. They had a much more agrarian, friendly, and hospitable attitude than most of the people I met in Santa Catarina, not to mention they were much happier.
Pato Branco began as an inn run by Italian immigrants near a pond with ducks, hence its name. The inn was at the bottom of a small valley surrounded by large farms and thick forest, or mato. As it grew, the city began climbing up the sides of the hills, and dozens of high-rise apartment buildings sprang up around the city center, which, as any self-respecting Brazilian city should, maintains an ornate Catholic cathedral, and central plaza, or praca. Around the city, stretching for countless miles, are still huge plantations of corn, beans, and soy, and occasionally a little thicket of forest. It's beautiful.The branch in Pato Branco was small, and had been for the last 15 years. Virtually all of the men who had the priesthood in the branch had been, at one time, the branch president. There were about 50 active and semi-active members, and about 12-15 families. Their main goals were to get enough membership to someday become a ward, when the district became a stake, and also to build a real chapel to meet in. Those had been their goals for years, and they seemed no nearer then, than 10 years past. When I was there, they met in a small, rented, wooden house which they modified into a church.
Our baptismal font, was a caixa da agua, a blue fiberglass water tank, which we would set up on the back patio and fill with the hose when we had a baptism. It was there that I first baptized someone on my mission: an 8 year-old girl whose parents were members, but who lived too far outside the city to come to church regularly. She reminded me of myself in some ways, and I hope that her situation has changed, or will change, to enable her to be active in the church.
The current branch president, Joelsio de Rufato, was a young, ambitious, stern, and inspiring man. He told me his favourite book in church literature was Spencer W. Kimball's Miracle of Forgiveness, which I have never read, but I hear compels even the most righteous person to their knees in sore repentance. He led the congregation with an iron fist, covered in a velvet glove. One minute, his rebukes would make you want to crawl into a hole, the next, you would feel he were your loving parent, who prayed for you incessantly.
I had heard horror stories about how much he distrusted the missionaries, and how difficult he made their work, but for some reason, he opened up to me, and I could feel that he sensed a partner in me, and one who shared his vision and who he could trust. He was very helpful and supportive during my 7 1/2 months in Pato Branco. And because of our trust and cooperation with him and the other leaders, my last days in Pato Braco were very successfull, and the area continued to prosper long after I was replaced: I received letters and pictures of many who I had taught and found who were baptized and reactivated, and that was one of the greatest joys of my mission.
Did you mean to refer to ticket as a passage, or was that the Portuguese that was coming through?
ReplyDeleteI had never heard of that journey to Pato Branco, but I found it to be hilarious! It was good to see you and meet your family a few weeks ago. Te amo muito!
Yeah, that was inglesified portuguese coming out. I'm glad you enjoyed it! My wife had never heard it before either. I always forget which stories I've already told her, and end up telling the same ones over and over.
ReplyDeleteIt was so good to see you and your family too bro! Lets keep in touch.