Hasta luego!

Ok so there's a bit of a chunk missing from the story. Sorry, I'll be quick. There are a couple of photos up by the way. This site is really bad for photos, so I might just have to show the rest of them when I get back.

Last weeks in Mexico

It's difficult to remember the details now but I'll try...I quit Spanish school, but stayed on in my apartment in San Cristobal for most of the rest of my time in Mexico. I ended up making quite a few Mexican friends which was really nice, though I did find myself longing for a while there for an old friend to suddenly land on my doorstep and speak proper Australian with me. My feelings of alienation came to a head when my Mexican friends and I had a minor misunderstanding that ended up being much bigger than it should have been...

It turns out there's this video on Utube (don't know how to spell it) of two girls dancing in their undies. One of my friends in San Cristobal came across this video whilst doing some harmless scouring of the internet for girls in their undies, and became convinced that one of the girls was me. I didn't realise he was serious so I just laughed it off when another person told me about it, and made a bit of a joke of it. When I spoke to the guy that found the video I said something like 'Oh I hear you found my video on the internet'. As it happens he didn't realise I was joking, thought I was making an admission, and told everyone it really was me.

Lesson one: never try to have cross language jokes. They really don't work.

At this point I think everyone was embarrassed for me, the brazen Australian, so nobody mentioned that they really thought it was me. All the while I was under the impression the misunderstanding had been cleared up and we'd all had a good laugh. When about a week later someone asked me about my video I was a little shocked. I began stammering and protesting my innocence but didn't get too far. It was very frustrating. I told them that if they really knew me they wouldn't think it was me, and that even if the person actually looked like me (which she doesn't by the way, you can check by searching under 'sexy sluty girls dancing', yes, sluty) they would still know it wasn't me. I told them that my real friends would never put me through this.

Somewhere in the midst of this Rory from Melbourne came to visit which was such a relief. All he had to do was roll his eyes at them and they believed me.

Puerto Escondido
Near the end of my stay a bunch of us caught a bus up to Puerto Escondido, a beautiful coastal town between 10 and 15 hours away (depending on the usual variables) with lots of good surf. It was so nice to be in the warm weather. Unfortunately I ate something evil and got a bad case of the gastric vomit shits. I also fell over and rolled my ankle (still giving me grief), so I was lying sorry for myself in bed for a good couple of days. I don't think I've had food poisoning before (I struggle to remember due to the several invented cases over the years), but it is really horrible. I did think I might die. But the place was beautiful and it was such a luxury to have open space to play frisbee in. For some reason I had been craving a good throw of the frisbee for ages (as if I always throw a frisbee round in Australia) I think because of the lack of comfortable outdoor space in San Cristobal. The Spanish really love a concreted plaza (zocalo). They didn't seem to think much of grass.

Mexico City
I left San Cristobal I think in August some time with a heavy heart. So heavy in fact, I missed my plane to Mexico City where Rory was waiting for me. Some friends drove me (at 180ks an hour) to the airport at Tuxtla which is about an hour and a half from San Cristobal. I ran in yelling goodbye over my shoulder. Two minutes later I ran back out, got back in the car and drove back to San Cristobal. Such a familiar story! Different country, same shit. Not surprisingly, my next trip out to the airport the following day was in a crowded stinky bus, not in the airconditioned car of a generous friend. But I made the flight and returned to the devil Mexico City.

This time around I actually loved it. I was surprised and very relieved. I think knowing a bit of Spanish helped hugely. I was able to talk with people and get into it without totally freaking out. Apparently it's the world's biggest city, but it didn't really feel like it. When I landed there the last time I felt like the airport alone was the worlds biggest and most chaotic city. While there I went to the Frida Kahlo exhibition which was amazing, continued to eat far too much yummy Mexican comida (my Dog I miss it!), and managed to meet a whole new bunch of very dodgy people.

Next stop London. A good dose of culture shock. Didn't miss my plane. The theme for Europe was 'falling over', though this time it wasn't me, it was everyone else, from the man who got stuck in the London tube doors then expelled onto the the platform, to the lady who fell out of the train at Barcelona station, to the lady who fell off her bike into a brown puddle in Berlin to the man who fell under his motorbike whilst trying to get onto it in Amsterdam. And it doesn't end there. I still enjoy a chuckle!

London Edinbrough
Not much to say really, but I actually really liked it (another surprise). It felt damn strange asking for things in English. Not that I had to ask for much, best to avoid asking for anything. That place is insanely expensive, especially if you're travelling with the meagre Australian Peso.

Carus and I met up in London and travelled to Edinbrough where he played a really great gig at the Fringe Festival. Edinbrough is amazing, though we only stayed a night. The Fringe Festival is the best festival I have ever seen. We caught some great comedy - if he's in Melbourne again for the comedy fest, go and see Daniel Kitson. He's a genius. I have seen him twice now and the first time I laughed so much and for so long I actually threw up. It was extremely painful and I never wanted to be in that place again, but I really can't resist a laugh so I braved his show in Edinbrough. The other 'comedy' we saw was Henry Rollins. I don't really have anything to say about that except 'oh dear'. I think he should really just stay at home in the Mighty States.

Munich
Actually Munich came before Edinbrough. That's right. I probably enjoyed Munich the least of everywhere I went in Europe. People in Munich seem to be constantly asserting they aren't German, they are Bavarians. It's a bit like West Australians asserting they are West Australian, not Australian and fighting to secede. It's kind of a boring topic of conversation. Munich is also extremely wealthy and you can tell by just a glance. Our tour guides, some friends of friends of friends showed us such scintillating sites as the stock exchange and the most expensive mall in Europe. Munich has something like 2% unemployment. I think that 2% are CEOs taking time off to lie naked by the river that runs through the middle of the city. Yes they're all naked by the river in the middle of the city. I wanted to take a photo but I guess that would've been uncouth. There's also a river wave where crazy people surf in water so cold it should be frozen.

So this wasn't the best introduction for me to Europe after beautiful Mexico. I don't think you can get two places more different in every possible way. Though to be honest I was already feeling negative because in my stopover in Frankfurt on the way to London the bloody German customs people took my three litres of beautiful Mexican tequila off me because they thought the duty free bag wasn't sealed properly. I was peeved thinking 'this would never happen in Mexico' and I hardened my heart against Germany. I don't know if I mentioned it before, but I developed a distinct taste for tequila in Mexico...

But after Munich we went to a city called Dortmund (I can't remember if that's how you spell it) and I met some of the most beautiful people. Carus played another really great gig and I just hung out with the Germans. And I have to say, if you can make such generalisations (I hate a generalisation), in my little experience of Europe, Germans are probably the most hospitable, friendly and open minded people there.

After this stint in Germany, I spent some time alone with my French/Italian cousin in London and caught up on rest until I met Carus again and we went to Paris.

Paris
I'm sure the Parisians would be appalled, but hey, I prefer London!! We met a bunch of Parisians who talked a lot about the essence of Parisian Frenchness and how we need to really breath it in (I'm not joking), visited some bars which were pretty cool, went up the Eifel Tower, walked the Seine for miles and miles and just generally hung around being tourists and eating baguettes and crepes.

Spain
I'm running out of time. Barcelona is cool, though I think much of the old lifestyle (siestas etc...) that I was looking forward to after Mexico has disappeared as business has become a very big deal there. Also, being an uncouth Australian I didn't know they speak Catalan in Barcelona, not Spanish (although some people do), so I was disappointed at being deprived of the opportunity to practice my Spanish again.

Further south in Valencia (Balenthia as they say in Spain) they speak Spanish so I got some practice in there. I liked Valencia, though it took a day or two to get into it. The beach is nothing special. It literally smells like an ash tray because everyone smokes cigarettes, and everyone butts them out in the sand. It's kind of gross to sit on because of the smell, and you just feel dirty. It's not a happy site.

Anyway, we picked a random place a bit closer to Barcelona called Tarragona, and stayed a while there just enjoying the cigarette free beach and the nice weather before heading back to freezing Germany.

Berlin
My favourite European city. East Berlin is so beautiful, lots of art, lots of history. I could live there, I don't even care about the weather.

Did some touristy things here, Checkpoint Charlie Museum, the remaining bit of the Wall - the East Side Gallery, saw some war stuff which is pretty much everywhere and never stops being mind blowing. The museum is amazing, all about the Wall. Lots of people escaped over it. Some built hang gliders, others hot air balloons, someone got out in a plastic cow(!) The Lonely Planet said the last person shot dead trying to escape to the west, was shot 9 months before it came down. I think the Museum said it was even later.

After Berlin we went to Hamburg, then Carlos and I returned to London for a couple of nights of mayhem. Forgot to mention we met up somewhere along the way. And again we managed to meet some dodgy people (another theme), though this bunch I'd be happy not to cross paths with again!

Bangkok
Just realised I forgot Amsterdam. Sorry no time. Bangkok is beautiful. Right now I"m staying in a little room with a fan on a very hard bed. I think it's just an old door or something. I'm feeling guilty for learning absolutely no Thai. I kind of gave up on the languages after a while. Next time.

So that was a couple of months in a few minutes! Sorry about the rush, but I really have no time. And I'll be seeing you all very soon so you can hear it from the horse's mouth.

Mucho amor, Lindita.

Hola,

Sorry it's been a while. Have a bit to catch up on.

I made it to San Cristóbal in southern Mexico I think a few weeks ago. I love it here - hoping to come back for some study maybe next year. The day before I left San Fran I visited the Mission district with a really lovley English girl I met called Jess (who is technomologically far more advanced than I am so she tought me how to use my camera. It was a fortuitous meeting – she also showed me all about skype). Mission is almost totally a Latino area. Having been south of the border for a couple of weeks now, I can see why I much prefered it to central San Francisco. Latino living is so very civlised and relaxed! Mission is a poor area with an undeserved (as far as I could see) bad reputation. I guess in many tiny minds, poor/Latino = rough/bad. In Mission there are murals and mosaics on pretty much everything. It’s a community project started by artists/muralists to include the community and it makes for a beautiful place, both in aesthetically and in general vibe and feel. The schools are all painted, as are houses, shops, just about everything. Si, if you ever come across a computer in your lifetime and happen to read this, you’d really love it. Unfortunately the photos I took are crap and don’t do it justice at all. Just as well I have only managed to put one up here so far. Baby steps, baby steps. If you want to see this one really boring photo of a hill in San Fran, click on lourob(2) I think.

It was a pretty horrible journey from San Francisco to San Cristóbal. My last day in San Fran was marred by witnessing a nasty incident involving three men and a knife. So while I was very happy to leave the US I was also a little shaken up and on a bit of a downer. My plane from San Fran was delayed due to ‘passenger action’, whatever that means, but I managed to get a red eye flight with Mexicana Air. The (all male) hosties were very cruisy and 'swaggered' down the isle with bottles of tequila. I knew then that I would like Mexico. Once again I didn’t get a vege meal, since I was on a different flight to the one I had originally booked, so I picked the top of my sandwich and ate peanuts. I also got a broken isle seat next to a fat guy so nada sleep for me. I arrived at Mexico International at about 5am, very hungry and tired, and quite worried about whether or not I actually had an ongoing flight to Tuxtla, a town about 80 or 90ks from San Cristóbal. I had booked this flight over the internet in Spanish and had no idea whether I’d actually booked a flight to Tuxtla from Mexico City on 22 May at some time after my incoming flight had landed, or if I’d ordered a pizza or something . Amazingly I had booked it correctly – now I just had to find it, which took literally hours. Mexico airport is HUGE and scary and I don’t really want to ever go there again. When I first arrived, none of the official type people including customs officers could even tell me where to collect my luggage. I got sent from pillar to post, upstairs, downstairs, north, east, south, west until finally a kind hosty or pilot or something took pity on me and showed me to the right place. Then I had to find my next flight, a process which nearly caused me a nervous breakdown, because the airline I went on called itself something ’International’ even though it was a domestic airline and never left the domestic terminal. All in all, it took about three hours. After finally checking in I set off to try and turn my mobile and phone card from North Americans into Mexicans, which I thought would probably be muy dificil if left until I arrived in San Cristóbal. I managed the phone card (which works occasionally), but the mobile is no longer. After being held captive for two hours and completely broken by a Mexican telecommunications company I nearly missed my plane to Tuxtla. By now it was about 11am. And still no food, and of course no veg on the next plane. I was also now coming down with the flu, aching and coughing up nasty stuff. In the end I went two days without food and nearly as long without sleep. By the time we touched down at Tuxtla airport I was feeling like I couldn´t stand anymore. But I had to find a ride to San Cristóbal, and be there before 2pm when I had arranged to meet someone (which I knew wouldn´t happen), but I took a deep breath and kept going anyway. I paid some crazy driver some amount of money and was on my way.

I arrived in San Cristobal at about 3 in the afternoon. Before I left San Fran, I found a Spanish language school on the internet in San Cristóbal, called Instituto Jovel that I thought I might like to go to. It is a great school and I can’t believe my luck in stumbling across it and getting a place at such late notice. Anyway, I had arranged to meet the director of the school, Reginaldo, who had organised a homestay for me with a local Mexican family. Because I was late getting there, I arrived at siesta time and had to sit outside on the pavement until people arrived, pretty much the last thing I needed to be doing. I was disoriented, almost delirious from lack of sleep and hunger, and by now also pretty sick. I couldn’t for the life of me speak any Spanish to the man, but he struggled on with me. He called my Mexican family, and the woman (Coco) came to pick me up. While I was well beyond speaking, I could still understand their conversation. Glancing at me, Coco asked Reginaldo ’habla espanol?’ He replied, ´No. No habla nada,’ with a shake of his head. Then Coco said (with a slightly sarcastic tone I swear) ‘perfecto’. I wanted to let them know I understood what they were saying, but just thought ahhhh fuck it.

I put my backpack back on and walked home with Coco. We tried to talk back at the house but it just wasn’t happening. I felt so wierd, seeing things out of the corner of my eye and all sorts of strange things. In the end I managed to spit out, ‘necessito mi cama ahora mismo por favor’ (I need my bed right now please). So I finally got some sleep, though it was very strange, and I woke up not knowing where I was and dreading going downstairs to ‘converse’ with my Mexican family.

I have now left the family after two weeks with them. They are lovely but I really needed a bit of space. Through my school I found an apartment of my own which is really great and a lot cheaper and more convenient than a youth hostel. The apartment is a kind of colonial building with one room, bathroom, kitchen, and lots of beautiful colours on the walls. I have extended my stay here, so I’ll have the apartment for a couple of months. So life in San Cristóbal for me at the moment is going to school everyday, doing homework, seeing some friends and getting out and about on the weekends. Last weekend a friend Kait, from the US, and I went to Palenqué to check out the town and see some Mayan ruins. They are thousands of years old and still very much intact which is really amazing, though cruising around with a thousand other tourists kind of detracts from the magic. I am a terrible tourist, and luckily so is Kait so we both had the same half hearted approach to sight seeing. I was a little worried she might actually be interested in walking six miles to a mediocre waterfall, or listening to some tour guide sprout boring facts about what kind of frogs live in a particular area. But she wasn’t, thank Dog, so we kind of did our own thing. Unfortunately, the night before we left San Cristóbal, we decided to drink enough cerveza for ten men and stay out until 4am. This is the only time we have done this and it just happened to be that the bus to Palenquè was picking each of us up at our respective houses at 6am. Of course we both slept through our alarms, so I was rudely awoken by Coco telling me stuff in Spanish that I didn’t understand. I stared dumbly at the clock which said 6.45 so I thought I’d missed the bus. But as it turned out it had been outside beeping its horn for 20 minutes, probably waking everybody else in the street but me. I ran outside in only a towel begging the driver to wait ‘dos minutos! Dos minutos!’ He relented, and the other passengers scowled out of their windows. We then drove off to pick up Kait who was in a similar state to me. We were a couple of feral animals that day.
In a few weeks I’m off to Tapachula (still in Mexico) and then probably Guatemala for a little while. Kait has moved to Tapachula. She is a scientist and is studying ants there. San Cristóbal just isn’t the same without her so I’m looking forward to seeing her again.

Likes and dislikes:
Likes:
The food. I crave chilli first thing and the mango with chilli and lemon from the people on the street is amazing.

Speaking English. I know I’m horrible. I never realised how great it is to actually know a language.

Being the luckiest person ever and finding my purse still on the church steps where I had been sitting in the middle of the crowded market, filled with hundreds of people constantly asking and always on the lookout for money, after leaving it sit there for a full hour while I wandered off to the other side of town. My friend Manuel proclaimed it a miracle, and I think he would know – his middle name is actually Jesus. Should’ve bought a lotto ticket. Tengo suerte!

Meeting a person whose middle name is Jesus. His mum had high hopes.

Siestas

Being allowed to be late. I was asked to a party the other week. When I asked what time to meet, they said 9, 10 or 11. So I decided to dye my hair at 11… Just joking, Paul, Geet and all the others I have kept waiting in my time. But I think I’m going to pick up some bad (or worse) habits here!

Dislikes:
At the moment, learning Spanish. It’s really hard! For some reason I thought it would just happen.

The rain. It happens nearly everyday- a sudden torrential downpour that floods everything.

The cobblestones after the rain. Grip or no grip on your zapatos, you’re going down anyway. I actually just fell over half an hour ago outside a shop.

Going really well for a few days with Spanish, then taking a giant leap backwards so I struggle to make sense of the most basic things. For a couple of days I was telling people I love myself and I also told Coco that I love her husband. I just wanted to say he’s nice.

Mexican Catholic Celebrations. They involve fireworks, 24/7, 7 days (nights) a week. Very noisy. They seem to have a lot more to celebrate than Australian Catholics. Actually, this I like.

Communication breakdowns. At the shop last Friday, a really bad Spanish day for me, I forgot to get my two onions (cebollas) weighed before I went to pay. I didn’t know I had to, actually. The man tried in vain to tell me what I had to do, but my thinking cap had blown a fuse a few hours before and for the life of me I couldn’t work out what he was trying to say. He kept talking about my cebollas, and because my brain was in such a vegetative state after a long week of Spanish school, I thought that cebollas was also some Mexican slang for breasts. This was confirmed in my mind because he was holding both his hands up in front of him in what I thought was a really suggestive way. It looked like the kind of action I’ve seen a thousand times amongst blokes at the pub in Australia. I realised (much) later he was trying to sign a set of scales, meaning I needed to go and get my onions weighed. But my mind was set on its course and wasn’t going to be sidetracked by the plain and obvious meaning of this man’s words. So I got annoyed, and the more he held out his two hands to show me he wanted to play with my cebollas, the worse it got. Fortunately, just before I told him to go fuck his mother (very insulting here apparently – some locals have armed me with some necessary street language), the penny dropped and I realised he just wanted to weigh my cebollas, not weigh my cebollas. We both cracked up.
In my defence, I have had a couple of terribly wrong encounters with men here, and always at times when I have least expected it, so my mind was primed and ready to jump to conclusions.

Must go, I’m getting kicked out of the internet café and I have homework! Monday tomorrow. And I will put photos up soon.

Love, Linda

Yo!

Woops. I mean Europe.

I'm in San Francisco, alive and well. Recovering from the jet lag which has been pretty full on. My journey didn't start off so well. The plane from Melbourne to Sydney was delayed because of fog in Sydney (bloody Sydney - does it ever do anything right?). They finally let us on only to find the plane had a broken motor (Eeeek!). So we sat for four hours on the tarmac while they fixed it. Of course the plane had no food. Apparently they had no time to stock up while they were going nowhere for hours in Sydney fog before coming to pick us up in Melbourne. I sat on the plane thinking the whole time I'd missed my connection to San Fran (I was hours late), but was happy to find it had also been delayed, so I got on. My flights to Sydney and San Fran were both with United Airlines. I don't recommend them. Apart from occasionally flying into tall buildings (maybe that was a good thing - one less of the bodgy old things in the sky), they also clearly haven't been updated for a very long time. Broken chairs, chipped windows and walls, threadbare carpet, broken motors they were unaware of. Doesn't make you feel overly safe. The decrepit hosties are also some of the rudest people I have ever met. And they forgot my veg meal, so I didn't eat for a full 24 hours from the morning I left until sometime after I arrived in San Fran. When I asked them for something they gave me a bread roll, a bowl of lettuce and grated carrot, two prawns and some rolled up meat. Americans. United planes also don't have TVs! I was devastated. I'd heard that was the best thing about international flying, making up for the lack of sleep the food etc... When I saw there was no television on the back of the chair in front of me, I asked the American hosty where the telly was and she thought I was asking her something about a chilli. The first of many miscommunications so far.

I arrived at my hotel some time in the afternoon, a few hours before I left Melbourne which confused me. The hotel I booked over the internet was in the bad part of town. I had been warned about this but I didn't really believe it. It's really bad and to be avoided after five or six. Everyone is homeless or a gangsta. Bez and Katie, Mr Wendel is also everywhere. He is beautiful in his tattered old 1960s suit, very gentlemanly and completely non threatening unlike his younger counterpart who is completely unhinged, carries knives and has wild eyes that look in all directions. But I have been cruising around the area through the day and I'm pretty much left alone now. So many people whose only source of income is collecting bottles from bins or the the footpath. So many people without legs too - I don't know why.

The first food I bought was from a big ole momma in a really scary spot. I wouldn't have stopped there but I was desperate to get off the street - totally freaking out. American food is pretty off a lot of the time and I didn't think I could really stomach it so I asked for a plain sandwich, only cheese and tomato, no butter, nothing else. After reassuring her a hundred times I really did want only cheese and tomato on bread she made me a foot long roll with cheese, lettuce, onions, tomato, jalepinos (!) and a mountain of mayo and mustard. It was actually pretty nice. Not getting what I ask for seems pretty standard having been here a few days. Americans - I think their ears are painted on.

I went for an eight hour hike two days ago and I'm still suffering. The hills (mountains) are enormous and the wind is gale force. Someone told me I should get a 'trolley' (tram) around to get an idea of the scale of the hills. I got a pretty damn fair idea of the hills on foot and I certainly wouldn't do it again. I really don't think I have ever been so sore, I actually feel like I have broken bones and standing up is a real struggle, though I'm ok once I get going. I didn't really see anyone else walking at all, except in the flatter bits. I marvelled at the bike shop I passed somewhere along the way, wondering how on earth it stays in business in a town like this. Maybe they sell bikes to stupid tourists.
I began my mission by walking to the Golden Gate Bridge (it's really close on the map! Add a couple of miles with the hills) where I forgot to take a photo (I have only taken three photos in three days - all of the ridiculous hills - and they are all crap - Paul I can't figure out the bloody camera!), then I walked to the other side of town, the Haight-Ashbury area, famous for it's alternative lifestyle and free lovin' hippies in the late sixties. It's funny that this hippy mecca is called Haight St. Also funny is Polk St which runs through the middle of the gay area. People say San Fran is much like Melbourne. I guess it is in some ways, but without the neighbourhood pubs, and nice cafes and bars all over. There are diners everywhere selling fried eggs and more fried eggs. I walked for six hours before I could find anywhere half decent to get a sandwich and a drink, though having seen a lot more of the city now I think I was just walking down the wrong streets, so intent was I to not cop the biggest hills that I missed all the nice spots. I thought I found a pub at one stage so I staggered in, starving and thirsty but it was actually a dentist. It had a pub-like name and a sculpture of a tooth out the front that looked exactly like a frothy beer in a bit of a strange glass. I was devastated. Maybe it was a mirage.

It has been interesting just to observe America(ns) - not that they really allow you to be a passive observer, but I do it on the sly. I didn't expect it to be so different here. It's pretty segregrated, not much mixing of black/latino/white at all, and all very distinct cultures. Black culture is so full on, in your face. I passed a group of about five black kids this morning (they were probably about 7 years old), calling each other nigger - 'yo nigger wassup'. It was very funny. They seem so old.

Americans generally are pretty weird. Many of them talk to themselves really loudly wherever they may be (and no one seems to think they're crazy when they do), and I've seen heaps of them put on a show as they strut down the street - sing some rap song with some dance moves all the while wearing a really serious face, then they prance on clearly very pleased with their performance. They also comment on everything. You can't do anything and expect to be left alone - from crossing the road to getting money out of the ATM, someone always has something to say about it. I wonder if their brains ever rest. So they all live this crazy life where they yell at each other constantly - as an Australian it really seems like they all have Tourette's. Probably the strangest thing is that they all think this whole situation is completely normal.

I have met a couple of really nice people, some travellers and some locals. I met a guy last night called Austin, from Texas. He's not from Austin, Texas, he's from Houston, Texas. He probably has a brother called Houston. He was lovely, with Nigerian parents so he didn't seem completely American, though he did have that deadly conventional outlook that a lot of them seem to have - you can't really mention divorce or atheism or anything crazy like that. But Austin did understand me which was a bonus. I didn't realise there would be such a language barrier in another English speaking country. But people genuinely don't seem to understand me. I asked the hotel guy if I owed him anything as I left for the youth hostel and he looked at me like I was an alien. To be fair it probably did sound to him something like 'd'I o y'enything?' but he didn't get it even when I said 'do - I - owe - you - anything? - Any - money?' together with hand gestures. It gets pretty annoying. For a while there I totally felt like popping some caps in some dudes asses! There are so many different people in this city from pretty much all over the world, and apparently it prides itself on its multiculturalism and acceptance of difference, that I wonder how they go dealing with people whose first language is not English.

But I'm beginning to really like it here, and even the Americans and their weirdisms are growing on me!

I'm off to Mexico in a couple of days. I'm going to San Cristobal in the south to hopefully stay with a family for a week and do an intensive Spanish course. Can't wait! And it's going to be warm.

I know there's more but I can't remember right now so I'll sign off or I'll never actually do this. Oh and if I actually take some photos I'll get someone to help me put them on here.

Love y'all! xox Linda