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...