Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Tonight was my first time volunteering at the comedor social, or soup kitchen in Granada. For my culture class at CEGRI, it is required to volunteer about 2 hours each week. This is both to be submerged in the community as well as it is to improve our Spanish speaking skills and confidence. For the first month of searching and looking for a place to volunteer, it was very difficult to get into contact with the comedor social. I called several times and the secretary at CEGRI also called several times, but still no response. The telephone number that was included with the information did not function at all. Instead, we needed to go directly and speak face to face with the director of the comedor social. I originally went to speak to them with Sarah, strength in numbers, except we went around 1 in the afternoon and it was closed. We soon found out that nighttime hours were much better and there was dinner served there for people to come and enjoy a hot meal.
Once back from our large break and a long weekend, I was finally available to go back again, this time by myself. I went around 7:00 at night and got there in time to help prepare the chicken soup. At first, it was a bit uncomfortable because everyone was speaking to me so quickly with their thick Andalucía accents. Once I told them I didn’t understand everything they were saying, they all were so wonderful and spoke slower and clearer for me. I discussed my working hours with the director, Jose, and we figured out that Tuesday and Thursday nights will work best for my schedule and theirs. Soon after, one of the cute older women working at the soup kitchen tied an apron around my waist and told me to wash my hands quickly so I could help cook. Soon after, they pulled out 2 entire chickens from the boiling water basin and plopped them in the sink to rinse with cold water. From there, three of us were assigned to pick apart the chicken meat into small pieces so that they could be added to the soup. Afterwards, I watched as some of the women added vegetables to the soup. While I wasn’t physically helping at this time, I was certainly learning a lot of vocabulary from the staff. Everyone was so kind and truly wanted to help me learn. I didn’t get to interact with the locals who were coming here to eat, but I will on Thursday.
Once back from our large break and a long weekend, I was finally available to go back again, this time by myself. I went around 7:00 at night and got there in time to help prepare the chicken soup. At first, it was a bit uncomfortable because everyone was speaking to me so quickly with their thick Andalucía accents. Once I told them I didn’t understand everything they were saying, they all were so wonderful and spoke slower and clearer for me. I discussed my working hours with the director, Jose, and we figured out that Tuesday and Thursday nights will work best for my schedule and theirs. Soon after, one of the cute older women working at the soup kitchen tied an apron around my waist and told me to wash my hands quickly so I could help cook. Soon after, they pulled out 2 entire chickens from the boiling water basin and plopped them in the sink to rinse with cold water. From there, three of us were assigned to pick apart the chicken meat into small pieces so that they could be added to the soup. Afterwards, I watched as some of the women added vegetables to the soup. While I wasn’t physically helping at this time, I was certainly learning a lot of vocabulary from the staff. Everyone was so kind and truly wanted to help me learn. I didn’t get to interact with the locals who were coming here to eat, but I will on Thursday.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Day 2 at the comedor social. I was there for 2 solid hours from 8:30 until 10:30 p.m. I was introduced to the new kitchen staff, which was equally as nice as the Tuesday stuff but way more hilarious. 3 of the 5 of them wanted to learn English! So I told them I would help with their English and they could help me with their Spanish! There is a funny man named Jose who liked to make fun of me and tell jokes as well. In the kitchen, I helped prepare a little bit of the dinner by cutting up 15 or so lemons for the tables. Then, as we waited a little while longer for the soup to get ready, I talked with the other workers. Two of them are students at the University of Granada working through a program called Erasmus. Then there is Jose, who is a middle aged funny man who later invited me out for tapas, but I politely declined. Lastly, there was a married couple, both in their late 30’s or early 40’s. The husband was deaf, so it was interesting trying to talk with him. He was interested in getting to know WHY exactly I was volunteering. It was hard to explain to a deaf Spanish man that it was required for a class…but with the help of his wife, he eventually understood me.
Promptly at 9 p.m., the doors opened and people came in to eat. The room holds about 60 people and its necessary for the people outside to grab a number as they wait in line so as to secure them a meal. As a volunteer, our jobs were to serve them dinner, but not without saying grace first. Even if it was in English, I wouldn’t know all of the words to the Lord’s Prayer, but it was so interesting to hear a prayer in Spanish. After grace was said, the soup was immediately served. I grabbed a large pot of steaming hot chicken and vegetable soup. I carried mine towards el fondo, the front of the room to serve the first tables. Mostly men were at the comedor social, so it was interesting when a few of them (drunk probably) tried to hit on me. A little gross, but interesting all the same. Let me tell you, it is difficult to understand a homeless man’s drunken smoker’s accent in Andaluz.
After soup was served, I was asked to pass out more bread, which was in a large crate. The bread seemed to instantly vanish, but I guess it was only because everyone there was practically starving. Next course was spaghetti, but first we needed to clear the plates. After doing so, we served the pasta. I received many thank you’s and more pleases. It was quite the experience. Throughout the evening, I was even asked if I was Spanish, but I think these men were only trying to please me. Another popular guess is English, but of course I never lie and I always admit that I’m from the States. Apparently, a lot of the Spanish think negatively of Americans, so maybe next time I’ll tell a little white lie and say I’m from Ireland J
Once the pasta was eaten and plates were cleared, it was time for dessert, which was their choice of a vanilla yogurt or chocolate pudding. The pudding was an interesting choice because, later, it was a bit difficult to clean. The diners were asked to leave soon after and the clean up began. We swept and mopped and washed the tables and cleaned the dishes. All the while, I was picking up on Spanish words, like rag, sponge, blanket, and more.
**The funniest part of the night was actually when I was the butt of their funny joke. Jose asked me to repeat the word “cebolla” which means onion after 3 phrases and repeat fast. It goes like this, “Cebolla por la manana, cebolla por la tarde, cebolla por la noche.” When you say this fast, the word cebolla turns into a dirty word, se folla, which means to have sex in Spanish. They thought it was hilarious, and eventually I understood the joke as well. Oh well, know I’ll just have to pass on this joke to all the other Americans. I said goodbye to the awesome staff, grabbed my coat and walked out. Not too much longer after, I randomly ran into 5 American girls from my program. They graciously invited me out for tapas, which I accepted. For dinner tonight I only had eaten an apple and a twix bar, so it was nice to have a drink and a tapa. It was a great way to end an awesome day. Time for bed. Tomorrow is “unofficial” but not entirely sure how I am celebrating it. Maybe with a long run in the morning? I think yes.
Promptly at 9 p.m., the doors opened and people came in to eat. The room holds about 60 people and its necessary for the people outside to grab a number as they wait in line so as to secure them a meal. As a volunteer, our jobs were to serve them dinner, but not without saying grace first. Even if it was in English, I wouldn’t know all of the words to the Lord’s Prayer, but it was so interesting to hear a prayer in Spanish. After grace was said, the soup was immediately served. I grabbed a large pot of steaming hot chicken and vegetable soup. I carried mine towards el fondo, the front of the room to serve the first tables. Mostly men were at the comedor social, so it was interesting when a few of them (drunk probably) tried to hit on me. A little gross, but interesting all the same. Let me tell you, it is difficult to understand a homeless man’s drunken smoker’s accent in Andaluz.
After soup was served, I was asked to pass out more bread, which was in a large crate. The bread seemed to instantly vanish, but I guess it was only because everyone there was practically starving. Next course was spaghetti, but first we needed to clear the plates. After doing so, we served the pasta. I received many thank you’s and more pleases. It was quite the experience. Throughout the evening, I was even asked if I was Spanish, but I think these men were only trying to please me. Another popular guess is English, but of course I never lie and I always admit that I’m from the States. Apparently, a lot of the Spanish think negatively of Americans, so maybe next time I’ll tell a little white lie and say I’m from Ireland J
Once the pasta was eaten and plates were cleared, it was time for dessert, which was their choice of a vanilla yogurt or chocolate pudding. The pudding was an interesting choice because, later, it was a bit difficult to clean. The diners were asked to leave soon after and the clean up began. We swept and mopped and washed the tables and cleaned the dishes. All the while, I was picking up on Spanish words, like rag, sponge, blanket, and more.
**The funniest part of the night was actually when I was the butt of their funny joke. Jose asked me to repeat the word “cebolla” which means onion after 3 phrases and repeat fast. It goes like this, “Cebolla por la manana, cebolla por la tarde, cebolla por la noche.” When you say this fast, the word cebolla turns into a dirty word, se folla, which means to have sex in Spanish. They thought it was hilarious, and eventually I understood the joke as well. Oh well, know I’ll just have to pass on this joke to all the other Americans. I said goodbye to the awesome staff, grabbed my coat and walked out. Not too much longer after, I randomly ran into 5 American girls from my program. They graciously invited me out for tapas, which I accepted. For dinner tonight I only had eaten an apple and a twix bar, so it was nice to have a drink and a tapa. It was a great way to end an awesome day. Time for bed. Tomorrow is “unofficial” but not entirely sure how I am celebrating it. Maybe with a long run in the morning? I think yes.
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