Author Note
My name is Bryan Trent and I'm this site's owner and admin. I served in the Chile Osorno Mission from 1993-1995 and love telling missionary stories. So, I decided to make a blog to share them before they are forgotten, and to allow other former missionaries to do the same. This blog site is completely FREE for use as a resource and to share your stories as long as you are not publishing content for profit. Easily share posts and content on social networking websites like Facebook and Twitter, or send content via email. Please visit the "Policies" tab before posting, and the FAQ tab if you have any questions. Refrain from negative or distasteful comments and foul language please.
Posts Tagged ‘chile osorno mission’
Shortly after arriving in the Chile Osorno mission and spending my first night in the mission home I was told I would be traveling by bus to a remote mountain town called Curacautin. The assistants to the mission president drove me and several other new missionaries to the Osorno bus station where they bought me a ticket and ushered me aboard the bus. I had a small wad of Chilean cash in my pocket, but I was completely unfamiliar with the currency and had no idea how much money I was holding.
About 30 minutes into the bus ride, just as we were getting out of the city, a bus attendant walked down the isle and collected bus fair from the passengers, swapping money for bus tickets. As he walked down the isle he would ask people where they were going, and then he would tell them the appropriate fair for traveling that distance. As he grew closer to where I was sitting, it dawned on me that I couldn’t remember the name of the town I was supposed to go to. After all, Curacautin wasn’t a name I was familiar with. In fact, the bus didn’t go to Curacautin at all, but to another larger city where I was expected to transfer to another bus (a detail I had failed to pick up during my conversation with the assistants).
When the attendant finally arrived at my seat he asked me what my destination was. At least that’s what I assume he asked, because after only 1 day in Chile my Spanish was very weak. I shook my head and said in a weak voice, “yo no se” (I don’t know). To that he responded with something along the lines of, “you must be going somewhere”. When nothing else came to mind I told him, “voy al fin” (I’m going to the end, or the last stop). The attendant told me the fair amount, but since I didn’t yet comprehend Chilean currency I simply held out my wad of cash. He took some bills, gave me some change and a ticket and then walked to the next passenger.
Hours later, as lunch came around and I was getting very hungry, I began to get very nervous. We passed town after town and I had no idea where I would end up. That bus could have been going to Antofogasta for all I knew! Finally, over 8 hours into the bus ride, we drove into a rather large city and pulled into a bus garage. As they threw my bags off the roof the attendant walked back to my seat and told me to get off, we were at the end of the line. I grabbed my suitcase and bag, saw no other missionaries around and started walking.
I was absolutely terrified! I was thousands of miles from home, in a nameless foreign city and I could barely ask where the bathroom was in Spanish. With my head hung low and hunger in my belly after not having eaten all day, I walked down the street in a miscellaneous direction and said a humble prayer. Shortly after I finished my prayer I faintly heard somebody yell, Elder! I turned around and at the end of the block I saw two missionaries running towards me from where the bus station had been. By some stroke of luck (or a blessing from on high) I had mistakenly traveled to the right town. The missionaries were two zone leaders from the city of Temuco, and they were very apologetic for being a few minutes late to pick me up. The bus attendant apparently had told them which way I had gone walking.
They fed me, introduced me to my new companion, and sent me on my way (via another bus) towards the town of Curacautin.
This was a heck of an introduction for me to a new country, and an experience I will never forget.
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In or around October 1993 I arrived in Chile to begin my missionary experience. Arriving in a South American, foreign country for me was a wide awakening. The Santiago Chile airport was old and run-down (they later rebuilt it and when I left Chile 2 years later it was a beautiful, new building). Things were instantly different there as well. For example, I recall going to the bathroom and finding a man outside the bathroom door selling toilet paper. He was tearing 2-ply toilet paper apart and making 1-ply and then selling sheets of it. I learned then that Chilean public bathrooms don’t come with toilet paper. You are expected to bring your own. Moving on…
The trip was very long. We had flown from Salt Lake City, to Orlando. Then, after a 2 hour layover, we flew to Miami where we had a 5 or 6 hour layover. We then flew the red eye for 8 hours to Chile and arrived in the morning. I think we may have stopped for a short-while in another country as well, but we didn’t get off the airplane. After a 9 hour layover in the Santiago airport, we flew to the southern Chilean city of Osorno and from there proceeded to drive in a mission van to the home of our mission president, El Presidente Hugo Arostegui. After meeting our mission president and his family, we showered and sat down to rest for a couple of hours from our long 2-day journey. At long-last, very hungry, we sat down for a special dinner with our President’s family and his two assistants.
Not sure what to expect, we politely sat down and waited to be served. To our chagrin, each of us received a sea-urchin, with a hole in the top, covered with some light tossed salad and grated cheese. The smell was awful, but not wanting to offend anyone on our first day in town, we each dug into the meat of the urchin. The taste was awful as well — somewhere between raw, slimy seaweed and rotting fish as I recall. After a few large bites the mission president and his wife began to laugh and laugh. It was at that point that we realized they had only been eating the salad on top of the urchins. The whole thing was a joke and we had clearly been had. Very relieved and with smiles on our faces, we waited for the urchins to be removed and the real food to arrive. After the joke dinner consisted of an amazing meal with barbecued ribs, corn on the cob and other delicious eats.
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Before I begin, I should note that this story is very spiritual to me. At the same time it is somewhat irreverent. It is one of my fondest, most holy, yet funniest memories from my youth and my mission.
When I was 19–21 years old I served my church as a missionary in southern Chile. About half way through my 2 year mission I was stationed in a small town called Futrono in the Andes mountains. Futrono is a very scenic community adjacent to a rather large lake, and it was a long drive from the nearest large cities or towns. We did not have a church building in Futrono and there were only a handful of church members in the town.
Keep in mind that it was still passed 10:00pm at night and very dark. Fortunately, at least it was summer and the nights were rather warm. We weren’t about to give her husband a chance to change his mind and were determined to get her baptised as quickly as possible. My companion and I each ran in separate directions. He to the branch president’s (similar to a Bishop) home to wake him up, and I to the house we rented as a church to pick up two sets of white baptismal clothes. We all met in cabs at the side of the lake, not far outside of town, along with a couple of local members of the church. It was a mostly full moon that night and there was plenty of visibility.
In our church we baptise by immersion, which means the person’s entire body must be submerged completely in the water. The lake was the only place nearby where we could do this. On this occasion, I had been chosen to perform the baptism ceremony and my companion was to do the blessing and confirmation (like a special prayer) after the baptism was done. She and I went our separate ways and changed into white baptismal clothes. Then, in the moonlight we waded into the lake and I performed the baptism. After the baptism was complete and it was verified that she was submerged sufficiently under the water, we exited the lake and again went our separate ways to change into dry clothes. The rest of the group waited at the lakeside, next to a large rock where she would later site for her confirmation blessing.
This is where the story gets interesting and a bit irreverent.
In an effort to find some privacy where I could change out of my wet clothes I crossed through some trees and entered a field or pasture. The ground was somewhat muddy so I made my way to a very large, flat boulder laying in the field and climbed on. I proceeded to change my clothes. As I changed my clothes something hit me in the head and startled me. A few seconds later, as I continued to remove my wet clothes, it happened again, then again. Before long I realized that I was being pelted in the head by a small mouse-sized bat. At that point I began to freak out and I found myself jumping around, completely naked, like a crazy man, flailing my arms and kicking my legs in the air. As if on cue, over the hill and down the country road next to this field came a lone car. As the car rounded a corner and its headlights fell on me (still jumping around and flailing my arms and legs) the car stopped and flipped on its high-beams. I can only imagine what that driver and his/her passengers were saying as they watched the only “Gringo” (N. American) for many miles around, dancing naked on a rock in the middle of nowhere and in the middle of the night.
Fortunately for me, the car finally left. Perhaps the car’s headlights scared the bat off because shortly thereafter it stopped pelting my head over and over. I quickly threw my clothes back on and jumped off the rock before running through the field, then the trees, back to where the group was waiting for me. Out of breath, I couldn’t bring myself to tell them what had just happened.
After the bat incident, and after giving my heart some time to settle down, peace was restored and we proceeded to do the blessing and confirmation. Ultimately, it was a beautiful and certainly unique baptismal experience. Never before have I baptised a person at night under the moonlight and I suspect that few people in the world, in our church at least, have had a similar experience.
- The Futrono, Chile branch – 1994
- The Messiah Musical, Catholic Church, Futrono, Chile
- Downtown Futrono, Chile
- Downtown Futrono, Chile
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