Hiatus

Well, the Mexican adventure is over for the moment, and I am enjoying living in a redwood forest for the summer. Life is good, though not terribly interesting from a blogging perspective. I may pick it up again at some point, but for now you can stop checking this every fifteen minutes (mom). Thanks for reading, commenting, cyberstalking, etc.

Adam

The Gas [expletive deleted]

I hate the gas man. We have a name for him which I will choose to omit for my younger (older?) readers. The gas man gave us a leaky gas tank. The gas man said he would be right back with a receipt. It is at this point that he became the The Gas [expletive deleted]. I hate him. We called him. He didn't come. We called the next day. Again, he didn't show. Sometimes he would say "treinte minutos," and then hang up before we even finished our sentence. So we went to the school to get a Mexican to call. No dice. Lots of yelling. Little dice. They called again the next day and again got the runaround.

At this point we realized that this was getting quite childish, and I decided that the only way to respond was in the most childish way possible. This also led to my proudest "en espanol" achievement: a successful prank phone call. I nailed him. I don't really know what else to say. Honestly, I was shaking for about five minutes after it, and my roommate practically couldn't breathe from laughing. I feel like I have truly accomplished something on my Mexican adventure.

My roommate also brought up an interesting (though now thoroughly debunked) point that maybe some cultures don't have prank calls. I decided that that was absurd. In what culture will a 13-year-old kid with access to a telephone, telegraph, or smoke signal system not make prank calls, beeps, or puffs. The Boy Who Cried Wolf was a prank caller without a telephone. That was a long time ago, no? The moral of that story is that if you make prank calls, wolves will come and eat your family. Or you... I can't remember. Anyway, wildlife can't survive in this environment, so I'm not so worried about the wolves.

Oh, another highlight of my week occurred as I was walking home from my last class on Wednesday. As I was about to cross the street, a police escort appeared followed by five full-size luxury buses. I was confused at first, but soon realized that I was in the presence of five buses worth of Miss Universe contestants. Traffic was moving slow enough that I seriously considered throwing myself in front of one of the buses on the off chance that forty of the most beautiful girls I had ever seen would rush out to help me. That could be worth a broken rib. Or two...

The Crazy Guy on the Roof

So there is this guy that comes out on the roof sometimes. He is generally unshaven and poorly dressed. He comes up the stairs carrying a pillow, a shiny silver box, and an umbrella attached to an old broomstick. The umbrella contraption is lashed together with a telephone cord. He puts the broomstick through one of the holes in his plastic pool chair, opens the umbrella, sits on the pillow, and pushes the chair as close to the edge of the roof as possible, putting his feet up on the raised ledge. Then he opens his shiny silver box and just stares at it, sometimes for hours. He will sit there under the protection of his umbrella through rain and the blaring sun, always staring at his silver box, and periodically shifting a few feet to the right or left with no discernible pattern. Then, without warning, he will close the silver box, gather his umbrella and pillow, and go back into his house, only to return a few hours later. You can try to talk to him, but he is so focused on the contents of the shiny silver box, that we will likely not even notice.

His name is Adam, and he now has no excuse for not posting regularly since he has discovered a wireless signal on his roof. I am flying to Austin on June 3 and then to Cali on June 6 for the summer. Don't know if the blog will survive. Maybe it will go on hiatus for a bit and perhaps return in some other incarnation when I deem my life to be interesting enough again. We shall see. Oh, and it seems likely that I will be in Austin in September if anyone feels like finding me a job. I have degrees in business and Spanish and am good at making ridiculous rooftop umbrella devices.

This pleases me:

- roommate located and brought back two boxes of matzo ball mix from Ohio, where there are apparently enough Jews to require matzo ball mix

- baseball

- quote from student: "For the first time in my whole life, I actually enjoy my English classes."

- students still being on break means less people on the metrobus, the metro, and basically everywhere

- ice cream

- baseball

(editor's note: there was an earthquake last night, but all is well. it was pretty benign. kinda cool actually.)

Multiple Choice

Let’s play “Plan Adam’s Life!” My last day here is May 31^st, I am spending the summer in California, and then I will embark once again on the sea of endless possibilities which seems to make one or two appearances a year in my life. Instead of organizing my thoughts, I thought I would blorganize (blorganize, v., to organize in blog format) them for you. Here are some possible landing points, in alphabetical order, for Septemberish:

Austin, Texas, USA: Doesn’t sound so adventuresome, eh? Granted, I have already spent over twenty years of my life in the Live Music Capital of the World, but one of my best friends from California is threatening to move there. All I do when I’m not in Austin is try to get my friends to move to Austin, so if someone is actually going to do it, I feel somewhat obligated to be there. I also have all my friends there. Plus it would be generally awesome. I like this idea. Maybe just for a year, and then I’ll set back out on my travels. This requires a job. I like Magnolia Café (and defy anyone to prove that Kerbey Lane is better).

California, USA: I have a lot of friends here as well, and there are even some immigrant Texas friends. Beach. Sun. I imagine there is a demand for ESL teaching. I think there are only a few places in the States that I could ever live besides Austin, but I could live most anywhere in California. NoCal gets a little cold for me, but it is beautiful. After living in Mexico City, I don’t think I could handle L.A., at least not right away. I like In-N-Out, though I believe that it is grossly overrated. The fries are peculiar, and any burger in Texas is probably going to kick its ass.

Israel: Adam’s mom says, “Well, I’ll probably be a nervous wreck the whole time you are there. On the other hand, at least there will be a plethora of Jewish girls for you to marry.” I have friends all over the country. Citizenship is a bonus. Not sure how I feel about the three months of army service if I go in September. I imagine I’d probably just get stuck behind a desk. If I wait until February (when I turn 26), I just go straight into the reserve pool. There’s also the whole “getting in touch with your roots” thing here. I like schwarma (strangely enough, I have never like falafel).

Japan: Japan has always intrigued me, plus you actually make decent money there as a teacher. This might be a little farther off in the future. I know no Japanese. I like sushi. I would make an excellent ninja. I know very little about Japan, as shown by the fact that the only two things I really associate with it are sushi and ninjas. Though really, that is enough to convince me to go there.

Mexico City, D.F, Mexico: As much as I complain about some things here, I feel like I could do things differently to make life more enjoyable the second time around. I have a lot of friends here, and now that I have a network it would not be difficult to get private classes and maybe work part-time for a school, too. This would let me have more control of my schedule and the location of my classes. You can also apparently take courses at the university here for pretty cheap, so I could do some school, too. My Spanish would continue to improve. I like tacos.

Playa del Carmen, Quintana Roo, Mexico: I have some connections there and might be able to scrap together enough teaching hours to survive. It’s the beach. I feel no need to explain myself further. My Spanish would continue to improve, though not at the same rate as in Mexico City. There is the advantage, though, that I would be able to breathe, something which is always helpful when trying to speak any language (I went running today. Hot Tip: running in Mexico City: not so fun. I am not on speaking terms with my lungs.). I like tacos a lot.

Somewhere Else, Earth: See, this is the one that makes things really difficult… I like choices. I don’t like making decisions.

Oh, I got a surprise visitor. My friend Danny, who I know from my days at good old Greene Family Camp, was in town for some convention. If I understood what he did, I would explain it to you. I think it is marketing and he represents some crazy plastic thing/company that was at the convention. Anyway, we had an official business dinner, and he didn’t get kidnapped. Hooray!

I also thought I would introduce yall to my roommates by passing along this excellent family portrait from a recent party. This is the Tokio family. From the left are Dan, Andrea, me, Andy, and Alex. I’m not really sure what else to say about this picture, but it is in my Mexico Top Ten. Dan and Andrea are a couple and, along with Alex, are from England. Andy is from Ohio. I, of course, am from Texas. Texas is rad.

Madness, etc.

March has been a busy month. My schedule has changed a couple of more times, but I am beginning to shape it in my favor. Cable and internet didn't quite work out so I have been scrambling to find ways to watch basketball (skip to next paragraph if you don't care). I'm not all that upset that I missed the last Texas game, though. We need a new coach. We had the best player in the country, knew we only had him for one year, and had it ruined because our coach had no idea how to get him the ball. It's just a good thing I didn't watch that game on the metrobus. I think my head would have exploded.

My sister came to visit for spring break. We concluded that Mexico City is not the best spring break destination. You learn a lot by being here, and there are plenty of ways to have fun, but you don't really come here to relax in the sun and breathe fresh air. We had some good times, though, and now at least somebody else understands this whole metrobus obsession/hatred.

I did manage to make it to Acapulco this weekend for some relaxation, and the Texas loss was not so unexpected as to ruin my beach time. It was refreshing to walk around in my Texas shirt (pre-loss) and get the horns from random strangers. It was also not so refreshing to see herds of frat boys that seemed genuinely offended when a store clerk didn't understand what an ATM was. You know, you probably couldn't tell them where a cajero was if they were visiting your city... The best line of the trip came when we were standing in line for Palladium, a famous club in Acapulco. It seemed that most in the line were resigned to waiting for however long it might take to get in, but when the bouncer walked by, Andy simply asked "uh... podemos entrar?" (can we go in?) and in we went. Who knew? All you had to do was ask...

Adam is Old

I always wondered what my teachers did while the class was taking a test. Apparently I write blog entries. I feel like the internet must have revolutionized the use of this time.

Well, I guess I’m 25 now. I feel old, though nobody is really receptive to me complaining about it. My actual birthday was not so exciting since it was a Wednesday, which is a relatively calm day with the misfortune of being sandwiched between two 14-hour days in Santa Fe. We celebrated my birthday on Saturday, though, with a barbecue that the state of Texas could be proud of. The initial meat purchase (before guests showed up with even more) included over 2.5 kilos (almost 6 pounds) of burger meat, 40 hot dogs, and 18 chicken legs. I found a cowboy hat in my room and wore it the whole time. This day made me happy. So did the next day which began with my roommate banging on my door because someone needed to light the grill again. You can’t beat the smell of charcoal in the morning.

I just realized that my birthday was actually two weeks ago. The work weeks go by so quickly here. You just get sucked in on Monday and get spit out on the other end before you even know what just happened. I don’t really like this as I am not in any particular hurry to get to 26. I can’t believe that my sister will be here in less than two weeks. That should be crazy. I’m excited.

I cracked and signed up for cable and internet at the house. I need my sports fix. I need the NCAA Tournament. I need to watch Kevin Durant while he is still in a Texas uniform. My British roommates are excited about watching soccer. I don’t know if they realize that they will have to wait until after the March Madness subsides. I want to make them fill out tourney brackets.

My roommates have started calling me by my last name. I don’t think they understand how happy that makes me. It just feels more normal. I don’t have a problem with my first name. I’m just not used to having everybody using it. I also found a bowling alley near my house. That was a big find, though it is a little expensive.

Mexico has started to break things again. My tape recorder (yes, we inexplicably still use tapes) broke in the middle of a listening activity. A few days later, my newly purchased hair clippers died. Both have now been dropped from the roof several times. Things seem to break in threes, so I am being very careful with my computer at the moment.

I made the mistake of trying to eat street food again. I got used to it in Playa, but now I am cooking a lot, and it would appear that I have lost my tolerance. I had to cancel three days of classes. It was not so fun. I got some good medicine though, and now all is well. I have noticed that people get sick a lot here, and I am starting to realize that I have never really felt completely healthy during my stay. There is always something, be it dehydration, stomach issues, or allergies. I think that the only real cure is BBQ. Lots and lots of BBQ.

Adam is Idle

They say that a good way to find out what you really want to be is to first figure out the things which you definitely do not want to be. I am not willing to cross teaching off the list. I have enjoyed all of my teaching. That is fine. I am most certainly not a commuter. I do not enjoy commuting. I do not look forward to commuting. I do not commute well. I am not friendly to those commuting alongside me and I hate them for being so numerous.

The part that boggles the mind a bit is that my fellow commuters all have the same look on their respective faces that says exactly what I just wrote. This is insane to me. I spoke with some of my students about this. Why does everyone put up with this? Well, Mexico’s economy is overly centralized which means that this is where the jobs are. This is where the money is. Most of these people have a compelling reason to play the “how many people can we fit on this bus” game, be it supporting a family, a chance at promotion, or even just a chance at a better life. This is where they have that opportunity.

What I have come to realize is that I lack that compelling reason to keep me here. The only thing that makes me look at a bus which is already well over capacity and say “Yes, I need to get on this bus” is the fact that I told my employer that I would be here until at least the end of May and I am a big believer in keeping my word. So I will be here through May, even though the Metrobus makes me want to kill someone and I am pretty sure that my fellow travelers are all deciding who they would kill first as well.

It is strange how overpowering the travel is as a negative when I am pretty happy with everything else. I like where I live, have good friends, enjoy my job, and have plenty of fun on the weekends. I have simply come to realize that if I did this job in most any other city in the world (and I do have that opportunity), I would have a lot more free time to enjoy these things.

I turned 25 today (well, I wrote this yesterday). These are good years. Between the metro, metrobus, private buses, peseros, and dead time between classes in Santa Fe, I lose well over 24 hours, more than a day of my life, every week. Why do I need to do that? Is that crazy? I think yes.

Uh, that didn't work out too well...

Big news in the Mex! I have moved, which I actually feel like is a very good thing, though the manner in which said move came about was not so good. I am a big fan of chronological order, though, so we will get to that in a bit.

Last weekend I had a student and her boyfriend over to dinner. My friend and fellow teacher, Andy, who will become important later on in this post, also stopped by. I served chicken a la Israel Beer, which is basically chicken, rice, carrots, and pineapples with a BBQ/soy/pineapple sauce. This was usually what you would be fed if you hung out at Israel's apartment enough in college, though there ramen noodles usually replaced rice. So, yeah, it really has nothing to do with either beer or the nation of Israel, but it is delicious nonetheless.

Friday night I basically stayed up until the metro opened in the morning, which is something I have been meaning to do for a long time. It helps me not grow up. On Sunday, Andy and I went to see the pyramids in nearby Teotihuacan and made it back in time to watch the Super Bowl. We moved to a sports book in the fourth quarter, lured by the "pick a team that will score this quarter and get a free beer" promotion. The Bears had the ball, so we all took the Bears... and then Rex Grossman started throwing interceptions... fun! No free beer for us.

So after my rigorous weekend of dinner parties, early morning metros, climbing pyramids, and not getting free beer, I was enjoying sleeping late on Monday (random Mexican holiday). Then I got a knock on my door, and my roommate, who has been at the beach all week, wanders in looking quite frazzled with shifty eyes and starts mumbling in Spanish about how he thinks I should move out. Interesting? Yes. So he leaves. I decide this is no reason for me to not continue to enjoy my day off, so I sleep for a bit more and then knock on his door.

I enter to see him watching television in his bed, looking like he hasn't slept in days, and notice his foot hanging off the bed in a cast. I am still not sure how that happened. Anyway, I'm a little freaked out at this point, but we talk, he says it is okay if I stay, and I tell him to just ask if he needs anything. I also mention that there is a house where teachers from the school live that may have a room opening up soon, so if I really need to leave, just tell me. So everything is fine, yes? One might think so.

The next day I don't see Alvaro in the morning because I must leave so early to get to Santa Fe. I teach all my classes, figure out a way to waste my three and a half hours of free time, and get on the bus which inexplicably happens to take over two hours to get me home on this particular night. When I walk in from my fourteen-hour day, I am greeted by Alvaro who says, "I think it would be best if you moved out." I say, "OK, well, I'll call around and see what I can do," to which he responds "Well, I want you out tomorrow. I wish I could just kick you out right now, but..." Ah, this is fun, no? So I tell him that I will call some people, and he just stands there waiting for me to call. All this time I am asking for a reason and all I am getting is "Adam, sometimes things just happen." So I call Andy, and there happens to be an extra bedroom at their apartment that nobody uses. I tell Alvaro I will be out the next day, but he still won't give me a reason.

As it would turn out, the reason was that he wanted to live with someone who would be around more and be more of a friend, something that was difficult with my job. There was no specific thing that I did and he said that he liked me as a person, but he didn't want to live with me. Fine. That is a legitimate reason for wanting a new roommate, but I have yet to find anyone who thinks that is even remotely close to a decent reason to throw someone out on about twelve hours' notice in the middle of the week after a fourteen-hour day in a foreign country. I even did a lesson based on this concept. It seems to universally boggle the mind.

I pack up some stuff, write a two minute lesson plan for my morning class, and go to sleep. I show up (late) to my class, totally unprepared to teach/deal with the world, and find that there is someone from the school there to observe my teaching. You have to be kidding me. I talked to him about my situation and he is going to come back another time, which I am very grateful for, but seriously, how is that the day that gets picked for random observation? Seriously.

When I get back, I finish packing and get in a cab to go to my new residence. Alvaro wants to have a beer sometime, but I don't really see that happening, as I am pretty sure that I don't ever want to see that guy again. I am actually quite happy about my move, but the way it happened was a little bit ridiculous. The only things I will really miss are being across the street from the grocery store and the Mexican Fat Birds. (Check out what the Fat Birds do when it gets cold. It is a crazy Fat Bird pile, except there is always one that is too awesome and hardcore for the huddle. I named him Vince.)

I will try to add some pictures to this soon (they're here!). I typed this at an Office Depot because I don't have a key yet and nobody is home. The good news is that my new place is substantially more conducive to me housing guests, so you should probably all come visit me so we can go throw bird seed in Alvaro's window and let the Fat Birds do the rest. Good times.

Guitar and Suit Day

For those of you unfamiliar with Guitar and Suit Day, it is basically a day where you put on a suit, pack up your guitar, and walk around a large city thinking you are really cool all day. Whether or not you are actually really cool is not so important. Come to think of it, you don't really even need to know how to play the guitar. You could probably get away with walking around with an empty guitar case. Anyway, if you can pull off bringing your guitar into the offices of a giant corporation and playing for some employees, all the better, no? Aside from how happy it made me to be playing Weezer on the top floor of an office building in middle of Mexico City, I think that the students really enjoyed the lesson and hopefully learned something.

I am really looking forward to my schedule not changing anymore. After having two classes cancelled and getting stuck with a four and a half hour Saturday class that the students inexplicably thought would be much improved if it started at eight in the morning rather than nine, I received a call from one of my several bosses informing me that they were giving me another class in Santa Fe. At this point, I flipped out a little bit, especially when they told me that they had to do it because I only had 19 hours when I knew full well that I had 22. So I told them they could have either the Saturday class or the Santa Fe class but not both. They chose Santa Fe, and I told them to write my schedule in stone, and ever since then they have stopped calling me every twenty minutes, and everyone is being really nice to me.

Not having to answer my phone every twenty minutes has given me more time to enjoy Mexico's little treasures, like the fact that sometimes there are holes in the road... and sometimes wee little cars get stuck in said holes. Sometimes these holes happen to be in the middle of an important intersection, creating a chorus of car horns which can likely rival any in the world. This pleases me.

But on a more serious note, I have also begun to take more notice of the poverty which is so prevalent here. I mean, just look at this poor, barefoot woman staring longingly through the glass at this zapateria... oh, wait... that's just Irene. Seriously, though, poverty's not funny, and it is everywhere here. It is to the point that you often can't even sit outside at some cafes because someone will come up to you literally every two minutes asking for money, and you can't give it to everybody.

I went to eat dinner at my friend Orly's grandmother's house the other night. It was amazing, and apparently she is under the impression that I am a bottomless receptacle for chile relleno. It is comforting to know that I now have a Mexican abuela nearby.

I have also become friends with some of my students and have gone out with them a couple of times. They seem to be under the impression that I am a bottomless receptacle for tequila, which is sometimes good and sometimes bad but always entertaining. My Spanish has improved tremendously, but I have found that it is exceedingly difficult to follow conversation in a bar with music and so many people talking at once.

Oh, I have one more funny thing. Check out these pictures of my current residence (top) and my parents' house in Austin. It's not quite an exact match, but those are some pretty similar color schemes. I was amused.

I have next Monday off, so perhaps I will get in some traveling now that I have rid myself of my Saturday class. And seriously, can someone explain to me why starting a class at eight in the morning on Saturday, before the school even opens, is a better idea than starting at nine, which is already a horrible idea? In what context does this make sense? Am I crazy here? I can't get over this. This really troubles me.

Corporate Rock

Everything is slowing down a little, and I am finding that my brain can once again produce coherent thoughts. I have grown a bit weary of giving lessons about the importance of time management and globalization, so I have begun creating some original materials. I tried to give a lesson based on Weezer's "No One Else" today, but the computer in the conference room wouldn't read my CD. The IT guy claimed that it had something to do with the speed it was written at, but I am pretty certain that these corporate machines just can't handle the rock that I would like to unleash on them. I am going to test the water with this lesson, and if it works well, perhaps the guitar will be making an appearance soon. I am finding it extremely difficult to decide on songs that I like and can play/sing which will be useful and appropriate in this setting.

I have now had 28 scheduled classes and taught 17 of them. This is not as great as it might sound, however, as I was often already out in Santa Fe (which can take about an hour and a half on pesero) when I was told a class was cancelled. Santa Fe is very shiny, but there is not much to do there and everything is really expensive. This is where I spend my Tuesdays and Thursdays. My Santa Fe morning students came through for me and got me on the company's private bus which is comfortable enough to sleep on. This pleases me enormously.

My two most common answers to students' questions seem to be "because English is stupid" and "because England is stupid." I don't really have anything personal against England, and I don't know if anyone from England reads this anyway, but it would be a lot easier if we could come to some sort of an agreement on which preposition we should use to talk about what we like to do on/at the weekend. I know you spoke English there first, but "at the weekend?" I think I'm going to invite some people from England to read this just to piss them off. And for the record... Well, I think that is settled.

I really like where I live. I have a nice, big, sunny room, though after taking this picture I recognize the glaring need for something to be put on that wall. It feels completely safe to walk here at night, and I am close to supermarkets, transportation, and some other fun areas of town. I have started cooking a lot, and giant tubs of yogurt have replace cereal as my breakfast of choice, as I am not brave enough to give the milk here another shot.

I am a little disappointed that I missed the Great Ice Storm of 2007 in Austin. I can't remember the city ever shutting down for three days in a row. Snow days are awesome. I considered just taking the three days off here. I feel like that would have been okay. Most of my classes got cancelled anyway.

Too Tired for Titles

Tired, yes, but still managing alliteration. I am no longer homeless! I now live in a beautiful 1940's apartment in Colonia Del Valle. I live with a man named Alvaro who is older but is very chill, and we get along well. Irene lives about ten minutes down the street in a house with seven other people from various parts of the world. It is all very chill. I also met a German guy while living in the hostel who just moved into a student residence that has a ping-pong table. This pleases me. It is wonderful to finally be out of the hostel, though I will miss my late night 7-Eleven donut runs with random backpackers like this guy Kiron. One of my favorite features of my new home is the tree out the front window which houses a flock of rare and elusive Mexican Fat Birds. Perhaps their diet is heavy on late night gas station sweets as well. I will get some good pictures of where I live and such soon.

I actually moved into my place the day before I started working. I am thrilled that I never had to try to teach out of a hostel. I had seven classes scheduled for the last two days, but due to vacations, some no-shows, and the complete cancellation of one of my classes, I have only had to teach three of them. I can now fully appreciate the benefits of having a salary, as I get my 9000 pesos a month regardless of how many classes I actually teach (something that doesn't happen with all schools). I am enjoying everything so far, though I can tell that all the traveling around the city is definitely going to wear on me. The early morning classes are a bit of a problem as well. Speaking of which, I must sleep, but I will try to write more and put up some good pictures in the near future.

Give me a home... or at least some churros...

Well, I am back in Mexico and have resumed being homeless. There is now a room available in one of the school's apartments, so the school no longer wants to find an apartment for Irene and me (which is understandable). So we decided that as long as one of us was on the streets, we might as well both be, so we are now both looking for rooms even though there is already a room being handed to us. The main goal of this absurd endeavor is to find Mexican roommates, thus forcing us to speak in Spanish and giving us non-gringo amigos. So tomorrow I will call my boss and tell him that I don't want his room. Why? Because I am stupid! Actually, that room will still be there in a few days if I don't find anything, but I have made some good contacts and I believe I may have found something that will work quite well.

Upon arrival, I was pleased to find that my giant Christmas light piñata was right where I left it in the middle of the Zocalo. It was then that I realized that I had left my giant Christmas light baseball bat at home. I knew I forgot something! Mexico City's famed giant piñata is actually only my second-favorite sight so far. But really, can anything be expected to size up to Playa del Carmen's ancient big fishing net full of chairs randomly hanging a couple of stories up in the air. It is such a powerful sight. Such fine craftsmanship. I hear it was done without the use of metal tools. Amazing!

This hostel is astoundingly cold. The other hostel has nothing but scalding hot water. I really need to find a place to live, because neither of these things make me very happy. The hot hostel also likes to put four CDs into the changer every morning and play them for the next twelve hours. I have always liked U2, but I am pretty sure I will not be able to enjoy it again for at least a year or so. Apparently there is a Quaker hostel, but I am not so sure that is for me either. I would probably just make oatmeal jokes all the time and offend someone's proud heritage.

Another fine feature of the Zocalo is the plethora of traditional healers. For a bargain price of gratis, you can be healed with a smoke emitting device which emits smoke all over you. This is actually pretty cool and spiritual, but it kills my lungs and eyes. It would appear that I am just in the mood for offending proud heritages, but I vote for Healing and Non-Healing sections of the Zocalo (oh, yeah, the Zocalo is the big main square). Then I could hang in the Non-Healing section and focus on eating churros and not dying while this guy Oz gets healed. Everyone is happy!

Anyway, lots of exciting stuff coming up in the next few weeks as I hope to find a place to live, deal with a stupid ticket, go to the stupid dentist, start a new job, and not die in any churro-related mishaps. By the way, churros are awesome. They also probably have nothing to do with why I have to go to the stupid dentist. Mmmmm... churros...