In the ghetto

The roughly triangular building on the left is the Kingdom Hall I got to meet at for field service this morning. When we met with them on Wednesday evening we found that only one other person there is actually from the States, which surprised me. The congregation seems to be made up of 98% Ghanaians (people from Ghana). They have a separate group for part of the meeting held in one of their mother tongues, Twe (pronounced somewhere between three with no "h" sound and tree with no hard "r" sound, and lots of wind). Then they have the random Hollander, Nigerian, and (at least) one Japanese sister. I'm sure I'm leaving someone out. I did expect a multi cultural congregation, based on our experience in Ireland (Russian, Romanian, and Nigerian friends met with us there), and on some friends expertise (I'm looking at you Christi), but I expected more British and American people. But the program was a great, the comments and participation wide spread, and the faces all warm, friendly and welcoming. They even announced us as visitors from California :)

I met with them for service at 9:30 and thought I'd be too late for anyone to still be there. I got to the door around 9:45 I think because the train from Schiphol was 7 minutes late. I didn't remember the name of the bus stop I was supposed to get off at (Geinwijk) and it took me a while to convince the bus driver that it was 2 zones away and that I really did know where I wanted to go. Turn out, I wasn't the last one to arrive, and everyone blames tardiness on the cold. And it was COLD. One sister didn't think I'd make it at all because I was under dressed. I did really really wish I had my boots and thick socks, but it wasn't so terrible. We walked from the Hall to the territory and kept warm by keeping moving.
The first gentleman I spoke with made an appointment with Maka Fui ( I have no idea how to spell his name...I'll ask later) and I for Saturday to demonstrate a Bible study, so that was a great kick off to my service adventure here.

We walked back to the train station via an open air market where Maka Fui treated me to his favorite, and I hear it's a Dutch specialty. Fish. I said I didn't want to try any of the slimy salt cured herring that Holland is famous for just yet. He promised it wasn't that, but, it was Kibbeling, which basically tastes like most typical fish and chips, but more firm and less greasy. It was perfect for warming up.
I took the metro back to my train stop, and the train back to the airport, and the shuttle back to the hotel. Really makes me look forward to tomorrow, when we can figure out where we're gonna live, so, hopefully we can stop at least a few legs of this shuffling back and forth that takes forever...hopefully :)