As I'm leaving the colegio where I help teach English, the professor who I help out asks me a favor: she wants to know if I want to get ice cream with her and then volunteer with little kids who's parents are unable to take care of them because of jobs/ or they are possibly in jail. The spanish are notorious for phrasing such invites in a way where it is IMPOSSIBLE to say no. Not that I didn't want to go, but I was wondering if there would be an oppurtunity in the conversation to say "ah, shoot,I have to visit my aunt in the hospital." Thankfully that wasn't an option because my poor aunt would be all alone at the hospital while I was eating ice cream at Plaza Mayor.
We go to the house where the ninos are staying and there are about 9 girls between the ages of 7 and 9. They were adorable and extremely excited to be talking with an American who they kept calling English. We played with them for about a half an hour and then took them back to the building where their parents picked them up. Remember that place where I almost got saved? Well, if not, then you can get the whole replay by scrolling to the next couple of entries. So this is the EXACT same place where I almost got saved. Not just the same building, the same APARTMENT. The same rooms, same chapel, same sinner (me).
You know that look you get from the priest when you only go to church on Easter and Christmas? He acts like he's happy to see you but really he's looking into your souless eyes wondering if there was really any chance in saving you. All answers point to no. This was the look I was getting from Isabel number 3 (apparently there are 4. There are only so many names from the Bible you can get without coming off as a hooker, slut, or murderer (ahem, Magdalen.. minus the murder. WE THINK). I happened to ignore a few of the emails saying they were meeting to feast on tuesdays and would like me to join. Now, I'm pretty sure they got the idea that I wasn't Catholic, or religious (ohmigawd say it isn't so), and I am still not sure if the Catholics practice cannibalism or not. A feast could mean anyhting. Anything.
Anyhoo, I don't think awkard is even the correct word to describe this situation. It was just. so. what. uh. yeahhh. so. EXACTLY. So there I am, repeating those words over and over in my head trying not to burst out laughing for fear of embaressing myself any more. I tell her how great her place is and how I should probably get back to my host mom because we eat at 9 and like to pray for 10-15 minutes before hand and god forbid if i'm late. Yeahhhh, soo.
Nonetheless, I will be doing this volunteering with the children situation every Friday I'm here because it actually was a lot of fun and I miss babysitting kids that age! (The kids I teach here are in 6th grade so 11/12 years old. Still fun but they're a bit smarter so I can't get away with not knowing much Spanish).
PS- I hit up the pasteleria twice today. Yeeeee!
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