Paint the Silence

You will be pleased to hear that I have neither been killed nor kidnapped just yet. The reason for my recent asbsence from the blogosphere is very simple: I have a life. For a British student, this is quite an alien concept, but I literally have not had time to sit down for two hours and write a decent blog post. I am too much of a perfectionist to bash one out in a rush (opp, sexual), so I'm sorry, but I had to make you wait.

I have, however, shot myself in the foot by waiting for almost a month to update my blog, as I now have no idea where to start and I can't remember much before my breakfast this morning. Which was jam on toast. I'll just have to hope that things start coming back to me as I write. Let's see...

Colima's annual fair came to town at the start of November, and I was keen to go and get a feel for things as all my students were talking about their trips to the fear/fairy/fair. However, it will not surprise those who know me to learn that my two visits to the fair were spent knocking back beer in a makeshift nightclub, so I missed out on all of the rides and cultural things on offer. What a classy lady I am. In fact, here is a picture of me at that hideous stage of drunk when you think you are sexy but you really look like a psychopath:

Deeply disturbing.
I did experience one "cultural" gem, though, when a barman forced me to down a bottle of beer while blasting a whistle in my ear, before shaking my head vigorously for ten seconds. Somehow, I didn't vom. It was like freshers all over again.

The following weekend, I went to a beach in the nearby town of Tecoman with some friends from the University. This trip followed an extensive search throughout Colima for a bikini costing under 50GBP. For a town where a beer or a twenty minute taxi ride cost just over 1GBP, the cost of clothes is a bit of a punch in the stomach. And I felt even more of an idiot for the fact that I have about 6 bikinis in England, but it didn't occurr to me to pack even one before moving to the southern coast of Mexico. I'm clever like that. Anyway, I eventually got hold of one and was able to spend a lovely day of sun, sea, sand and cheladas with a great group of people. The beach was far from attractive, especially in the aftermath of hurricane Jova, but it hit the spot.

After my day at the beach, the poop hit the fan a bit with regards to the musical I am writing, “Good Grief”, as I had to get it finished and prepare a pitch in order to put it forward to be showcased at next year's Edinburgh Festival Fringe. Bit by bit, things started to fall into place, and I started to see just how special it could be if it was given the chance. My fabulous friend and composer, Steph, bowled me over with how much she's developed as a composer in the last year, and I found myself feeling sick with an uneasing mixture of excitement for the show's potential, and terror that the committee would decide against taking it to the Fringe. I gnawed my fingernails down to their stubs and developed all sorts of nervous ticks as the deadline got increasingly closer. Dancing became a way of blowing off steam, and I found myself training for two hours a day at least 3 times a week, improving bit by bit while also giving myself some time and space to take a step back from the script and come up with new ideas. Suddenly, unexpectedly, I started to really fall in love with dancing.

Eventually, the date of the pitch, and the committee's subsequent decision, came around. My beautiful team propped “Lucy Laptop” up at the front of the lecture theatre, and I, being such a professional soul, proceeded to flash my boobs and discuss the important topic of poo with the room. I suppose my cronic footinmouth/titflashing disease must have been counteracted by my talented team members, as we won the pitch! So I am now extremely proud and very excited to tell you that “Good Grief” will be performed at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe in August 2012! Of course, the hard work really starts now, but it is really nice to know that I have something concrete to look forward to when I leave Mexico next July.

Aside from Good Grief and my extraordinarily pants attempts at teaching English, the only big headache I've experienced in Mexico has come in the form of the CURP – the document I need to get hold of in order to be considered a student resident in Mexico. I can't pretend that this problem is not largely my fault; we were told to go to immigration within 30 days of arriving in Mexico, and I showed my face there for the first time last Friday. Subsequently, I was whacked with a 50GBP fine on top of the 30GBP fee. Opps.

Actually, there is more to this story. First of all, the benefit of having to get my papers was that the office is situated in the port town of Manzanillo, so my compulsory trip to the immigration office also doubled up as a weekend at the beach. However, it was all a bit Mexican in terms of organisation, and things went a bit tits up when I arrived at the office at 1pm on Friday to find that it was already closing. At 1pm. Welcome to Mexico. “OK”, I thought, “I shall stay an extra day in Manzanillo and go on Monday.” Simples. But that Monday just happened to be the anniversary of the Mexican Revolution, so the office would not be opening. Oh Karma, my old friend.

Staying an extra two nights was not an option, as I discovered that Manzanillo is substantially more expensive than inland Colima because it is one of the most important ports of the Pacific Ocean. I spent an amazing weekend there, making some lame attempt to tan my milky white skin whilst drinking a lot of beer and taking an occasional dip in the sea. On the Sunday, I came back to Colima and spent the evening at a parade in nearby Comala with some kids from a local highschool who come to our dance class. They were performing a dance in the parade, and I got to sit in the back of the camioneta like a queen while we made our way through the town. I think that probably pissed off the local beauty queens who were taking their role as “girlsittingonacarwaving” alarmingly seriously, but never mind.

On Tuesday my body woke up far too early and took the coach back to Manzanillo. By the time the coach arrived in the town, my mind had caught up, and I made my way over to the immigration office, where I finally sorted my papers out and parted with all the money I had on my emergency card. I did make the (valid, if you ask me) point that I had been required to produce evidence that I was in a financial position to support myself in Mexico, but they subsequentially robbed me of all of my remaining funds, leaving me with a total of 2GBP in the world until I was able to change my cheque from work. I begged her not to charge me the full amount, since I was in Mexico City for the first week when I arrived in the country, and lost another week when hurricane Jova hit the town. The heartless bitch didn't even blink.

The important thing, though, is that I now have money and papers. I am also owed 40GBP by a friend, so hopefully I'll get that back soon and will be able to afford to buy my family's Christmas presents. Pity me.

In a few week's time I'll be spending the weekend in Acapulco for a salsa competition (as a spectator!) before going to Mexico City, from where I'll be taking a flight to England to spend 12 days with my family. I'll be coming back to Mexico in time for New Year's eve and then spending a couple of weeks travelling around with my friends before going to Puerto Vallarta for a week's holiday with my mum. So, I've got plenty to be looking forward to!

Well, that's an update of the basic events of the last few weeks! I'm hoping to be able to write a slightly more politically/socially informative blog post in the next few days, as there is a lot to say!

For now, though, I think I will say goodnight and go.

The World at Large

Oh, la vida Mexicana is something else.


I am a month into my time here, and I have already decided not to take my scheduled flight home in June. This from the girl who spent the months running up to her departure wishing she didn't have to leave all her beautiful friends and dreams behind in England. I am very fortunate to have an incredible life in Southampton: I was an active member of the Performing Arts society there and, as such, my peer group is largely made up of other PA members, rather than languages students. This means that, by the time I go back to England, most of my closest friends will have graduated and I will effectively be starting all over again! It's no surprise, then, that at my leaving party, I cried every time anyone so much as squeezed my hand. But here I am, one month in, and I know that I made the most fantastic decision by choosing to come to Mexico on my year abroad.


Where to start, where to start ..? Well, as I have mentioned, the food here is absolutely incredible. I'm lucky in that the family I live with is quite health-conscious, so when I eat at home the food is delish but doesn't threaten me with heart problems. Eating out is a bit of a different story, as it's all tortillas, fat and salt. Last night I had my first encounter with street food (against the advice of EVERYONE I have met), and it is certainly true that 5 days worth of unwashed hands makes for bloody tasty food. I think I must have a stomach of steel, as it hasn't effected me at all! You can all laugh at me for being so cocky when I'm in hospital on a saline drip in a few days time, I suppose ...


Happily, though, I have been doing plenty of exercise, so hopefully I won't pile on too many pounds over here! By some fantastic luck, I have become great friends with one of the best salsa dancers in the country, and he is working me like a mule in the hope of transforming me into una gran bailarina by the time I go back to England. I feel a bit like I'm in boot camp - my feet are torn to shreds and I can barely walk for pulled muscles - but it's so much fun, and once the music turns on I quickly forget how much pain I'm in. We do a few private classes together, and I also go to his group sessions, where I loiter near the back and hope no one looks at me! The class is for advanced dancers and, as I only started 2 weeks ago, I do feel like a baby elephant in comparison with some of the other girls, but they are all too lovely to laugh at me. Having said that, the teacher is very sought after by girls, and there is noticeable envy towards me because I have become his latest project. He is determined to make me into a brilliant dancer, probably more for the sake of his ego than anything, which means he's dedicating a lot of time to me individually. Of course, the girls have no real reason to feel jealous (I'd have to be a bit of an idiot to write about him in my blog, otherwise!), but I'm having great fun and meeting lots of new people through him.


Work has also proved a helpful way to find friends and expand my horizons. Most of my students are my age, and I've invited them all to add me as a friend on fb and take my number. This results in invitations to parties aplenty, which is pretty fab. I also have a few adult students, such as a 40 year old woman who has invited me on her family holiday in a few week's time! This might seem really odd to you, but here in Mexico it is nothing out of the ordinary. This is the sort of country where you cannot sit alone on a park bench or walk alone into a bar without people inviting you over to sit with them and tell them your life story over a beer or two. Or three. Or more. I'm certainly not in Kansas anymore!


On the topic of work ...
Allow me to explain how my job works. The students at the University have to earn credits outside of their selected degree area, which means that they must spend a certain amount of time in "El Centro de Auto Acceso de Lenguas" every week. My job, therefore, is basically to sit and chat with each group for an hour. Most of my students have very low levels of English comprehension and speaking skills, so the classes have become as much a Spanish lesson for me as an English lesson for them! I would also question my suitability as a teacher, as many of my students now know how the drug classing system in the UK works, what a gin & tonic is, and how to say things like "They f**ked like bunnies". Unluckily for me, they have to write a report after the class to prove that they attended, what they learned, how they felt things went, etc. They are all on strict instructions to LIE!


As you (should) know, Día de Muertos is a big celebration here in Mexico, so there are no classes for the rest of the week. This means that, since Friday, I have worked a total of three hours. It doesn't get much better than that! Not too sure about how best to spend my time off, but I am hoping either to go to Morelia in the neighbouring state of Michoacan or to the nearby coastal town of Manzanillo for a few days on the beach!  Either way, there's a fair in Colima at the moment, so I'll be spending my evening there with a few friends. On the subject of parties, I have a little anecdote for you all! Last Friday I went to a Halloween party thrown by some of the students at the Uni. As Liz was ill, I arrived alone, but did not stay alone for long. Since it's pretty hard to hide that I am foreign, thanks to my really bloody pale skin tone and ginger hair, I found myself having tequila poured into my mouth at regular intervals by locals trying to make sure that I got a warm welcome to the Mexican way of life! Bloody hell. Anyway, the party came to an end and we made plans to head over to an after party at an Erasmus house in the centre of town. However, I had to stay behind with a friend as he'd helped to organise the party and was expected to clean up. Suddenly, things turned sour as some of the more drunken party-goers decided they weren't ready to go home and were prepared to do anything to get back into the complex. A short fight ensued, and the people on our side managed to shut the big metal gate to keep them out. Then a glass bottle smashed near my feet, and we realised that they were throwing everything they could find over the walls. It was all very dramatic, and I found myself laughing rather than panicking, as I thought to myself "Welcome to Mexico ..!" The bottles kept coming, but the police eventually arrived and soon everything was under control so we abandoned the clean-up and headed straight to the after party. I got home at about 7am the following morning, after a tequila-fuelled night of hilarity. To add an extra lick of paint to the whole affair, I also managed to sleep through an impressively strong earthquake because I was so hungover. I got a panicked knock on the door from Liz and phone calls from friends to check I was ok after it happened, and I just said "What earthquake? Oh ..!"
So. Woops.


Anyway, the basic gist is that life couldn't be sweeter right now. I miss my friends in England SO much, and there are days when I go to bed and wish there was a Sam Gray, an Alexis Forss, a Leanne Shorley or a Libby Buckland there to snuggle with, but I would not swap this experience for the world. Viva Mexico ;)

"Welcome to D-Qwon's dance grooves, are you ready to get your groove on?"

It's 2pm on Tuesday afternoon. The sun is shining with brutish strength, the parrots are chirping away (I like to pretend they're enjoying their captivity), and I have just eaten my breakfast. Overslept a bit.

It's been about a week since I last posted so this seems like a good time for a bit of an update on la vida colimense. I suppose I ought to do it in in some sort of chronological order so as not confuse myself.


So, as you know, hurricane Jova hit the Pacific coast last week, reaching us as a tropical thunderstorm which caused flooding and extensive damage to some bridges and more vulnerable buildings across the state. When the sun eventually came out, I decided to head into the town centre, accompanied by Liz's mother Lety, to do a bit of exploring. I had been told that our house was about 6 blocks away from the centre, so as we walked over shabby pavements and past dilapidated houses, I fully expected the town centre to be a bit crap. I can't tell you how surprised I was when we turned a corner and I was greeted by a beautiful bustling plaza filled with cafés and water fountains. Unfortunately, though, our amble was cut short by a phone call to Lety, telling her that her neice had been involved in a car accident and had been taken to hospital. Keen to get there as quickly as possible, Lety hailed a taxi, and within 10 minutes I found myself outside the hospital being introduced to the extended Toscano family. Not the best time to be saying "Mucho gusto", really.


Over the next few hours, we heard that two people had died in the accident, but apparently everyone survived and the rumours were wrong. Happily, Dalia (the family member) didn't suffer much more than
bruising, which is pretty incredible considering the nature of the crash:

Of course, everyone insisted that God must have been protecting them, and that's why no one died. I didn't feel it was the right time to point out the number of crashes that do result in deaths, and that maybe, just maybe, there was a perfectly reasonable scientific explanation for how the people in the bottom car got out alive. Then again, maybe God's just picky.


The weekend finally gave me the opportunity to get out of the house and meet people, as we went to a ska concert on Saturday night and an amazing restaurant on Sunday, where you only pay for drinks and pretty much get fed a full banquet. I did die a little inside when the waiter told me they could do me a vodka and tonic, but they didn't have gin. As if a vodka and tonic is an acceptable replacement for gin. Bloody hell. I stuck to cheladas, which is just lager but with lime juice in the bottom of the glass and salt around the rim. I thought it would be vile, but was actually really nice. There are also micheladas, which I think contain chilli. I'll be giving them a miss.


I met some of Liz' friends at this restaurant, which was nice, but Liz is a bit older than me, so I don't have that much in common with a lot of her friends. As a result, I have been very quiet a lot of the time when we've gone out, but I did meet a few people my own age and once I got a few beers in me things perked up! People who know me might think it impossible that I could be shy and withdrawn, but when it's a case of meeting new people in a foreign language, it is a bit tough! Also, all of Liz' friends really loved the girl who was here last year, so I'm aware that I'm constantly being compared to her, which puts quite a lot of pressure on me ... I've only met one person who doesn't know Liz at all, and he's been really nice and very patient with my Spanish! I'm sure his kindness is loaded with ulterior motives, though, so I need to manage his expectations! Luckily, I'm finally able to start work this week, so I'll be coming into contact with plenty of other young people.


Sunday evening was spent on a roof terrace drinking beers. Towards the end of the night, Liz' salsa instructor swung me around like a ragdoll for a bit, and I agreed to attend his class. So, that's what we did yesterday evening! We learned a bit of Cha Cha, which is supposed to be a flirty and sexy dance. Now, I am what you might call a "hot nerd", rather than a "sexual godess", so I didn't have the highest hopes for myself before we got started. Things went from bad to worse when I started sweating and panting after the warm up and, by the end of the lesson, my clothes were drenched with sweat and my hip felt like it was about to pop out because I'd been trying desperately to be a sexy temptress by wiggling around the dancefloor like Shakira.


I'm going back next week. Because I love torturing myself.


And that's about all I have to tell you. Today I will finally be giving my first few classes, so I am both petrified and excited! I'll let you know how it goes...

"Don't threaten me with love, baby. Let's just go walking in the rain."

It is raining.


Hard.


The turtle is not impressed.

I had planned to write a post this evening, after returning home from my first proper day at work, but I have just been informed that afternoon classes have been suspended because of hurricane Jova, which is making its way towards the coast as we speak. Since I was due to work from 4pm-7pm today, this means that I have the entire day off. Which would be cause for celebration, except that the rain makes it impossible for me to do anything! I'm waiting for Liz to get home from work so that we can go and rent some films to watch this afternoon.


My first few days in Colima have been great. I haven't been caught up in a whirlwind of activity, but that's been nice because it's given me an opportunity to settle in properly. Even in the space of a few days my confidence has grown and I'm very lucky that the family I'm living with is very patient; they all go out of their way to help me communicate myself, which I appreciate immensely. On Saturday, we took Nico (a schnauzer with a disturbing resemblance to my grandpa) to the vet for a haircut and shampoo. He looks pretty hilarious now:

I'd forgotten how great it is to have an interactive pet. We recently put our springer spaniel down because, in his old age, he'd lost his "spring", and my cat Sooty spends most of his time spread-eagled in a patch of sun or curled up under my bed. Nico, on the other hand, is like a little human. I've had a good dance around my bedroom with him, and he always dashes to the front window to greet those who come and wave off those who go. In fact, as I write this he is using me as a climbing frame to try and get access to my laptop. Maybe he's trying to communicate with the human race. SPEAK, NICO. SPEAK.


Nothing.


In other pet-related news, I was extremely jealous to hear from my younger sister that my family has acquired a new kitten in my absence. I gave my parents strict instructions not to do so until I got back from Mexico, but this was a kitten in need, as she was being bullied by her siblings, so I've forgiven them. I'm not convinced it'll fare much better in our household - Sooty has, unsurprisingly, reacted very badly to the presence of a youngling in the house. Hopefully he'll dig deep and find some trace of a paternal instinct before inflicting too much emotional damage on the poor thing. Anyway, I met her on Skype last night and she's an absolute beauty. Welcome to the family, Minnie!


On to a more important topic: food. I am a big foodie, so one of the most exciting things about coming to Mexico was the prospect of trying loads of new things. Everyone raves about Mexican food - which, by the way, is nothing like the Tex Mex stuff we eat in Britain - so I was starting to feel disheartened after a few bad dining experiences in Mexico City. However, coming here and eating home-cooked food has been fantastic! Lety keeps telling me the names of everything I'm eating, but I don't remember any of them. All I know is, it's great. Contrary to popular belief, the Mexicans don't tend to cook really spicy food. Instead, they make wickedly spicy salsas (green is by far my favourite), so you can add as much or as little spice as you like when the dish is put in front of you. The best thing is, the food maintains its deep flavours despite the heat. While most of the food I've eaten here has tasted amazing, I can't imagine that it's very healthy. The Toscanos use their oven as a storage space for plastic bags, rather than a means of cooking. Everything is fried on the hob in an impressive amount of oil. To be honest, I'm enjoying the food too much to care right now, but my parents may not be so happy about it when they have to pay for two seats on the plane to get me home for Christmas.

My only complaints are, of course, hurricane related. The rain does make things pretty boring. The constant sound of running water also makes me need to wee a lot and, worst of all, the mosquitos are out in their gajillions. At four o'clock in the morning, when all you want is to be fast asleep and dreaming, it is very easy to seriously entertain the idea of taking a machete to your feet just to make the itching stop. The weird thing is, they only like my feet! I have had one bite on my thumb (weird), but other than that, it's all about the feet. Last night, I even tested my theory by slathering my feet in vast amounts of 50% DEET repellent, leaving the rest of my body free of any products and wearing only a t-shirt (saucy minx). I am sitting here now without a single bite north of my ankles. My feet tell a different story. There are about 10 new bites on them. It is mind boggling.


The hurricane also means that I'm unable to let you know how my first day of teaching went, so that post will have to wait another day. When I do eventually get into the classroom, I am planning to do a conversation class on "National Stereotypes", which should hopefully be a funny ice-breaker as we watch clips of Family Guy's Nigel Pinchley and Austin Powers. I will be working for 20 hours a week, leading a conversation club across three campuses. I have to choose one topic per week and then adjust the content for different language level targets. It makes it pretty easy as I really only have to plan one lesson per week, but it might get a bit boring by the time I've used the same content for the fifth or sixth time! I imagine the members of each class will have different things to bring to the table, though, so I'm sure it won't be a problem.


I don't think there's anything else very important to tell you, so I'm off to ring el novio.

"Hell, everything's legal in Mexico. It's the American way!"

This is actually attempt number two at writing this post, as I managed to delete draft one as I was reaching the finishing line yesterday. As such, my writing may be less enthused than it was before, so I hope that you'll forgive me. Here's what I've been up to this week:


At 6am on Tuesday morning, my boyfriend tried to wake me up gently by whispering my name and turning on the bedroom light. He was greeted by the words, "Why are you being such a c**t?", followed by a string of complaints and demands for a cup of tea. Eventually, I did manage to drag myself out of bed for long enough to have a shower, get dressed, and finish packing before being bundled into the car by my impatient mother, where I curled up and went back to sleep.


We arrived at the airport and met up with the other 12 Southampton students who are spending their years abroad in Mexico. Most of them had already said goodbye to their parents and loved ones - the part I was dreading most - so mine took me for a cup of tea before biting the bullet. I said a slightly teary goodbye, instructing my boyfriend to work hard to get bonuses and buy me a good Christmas present, and made my way through security.

There's not much to say about the journey itself, other than, "It was long". Really. Bloody. Long.

In Mexico City, we were greeted by two reps from the Anglo-Mexican institute, a not-for-profit language academy which has taken three of our members under its wing for their years abroad. As we weren't really in the mood for doing anything, having been travelling for about 15 hours, we went straight to the hotel, where we paid a whopping £15 each for nice en suite rooms.


After spending the night trying to conquer jetlag, we went over to the Anglo institute for a little seminar about life in Mexico. We were given all sorts of handy tips, like: "Don't get run over by a bus, because they will run back over you to make sure that you're dead to avoid having to pay your medical expenses if you survive." Ideal. After a spot of lunch, we went to the Anthropological Museum, where we spent more time cooing over turtles and laughing at some teenage girls who went mad for a few of our male members than actually taking in any culture. Having said that, we did learn about an indigenous tribe who dedicated their art and architecture to fallic imagery, which was very educational.

Afterwards, we went to a bar, where I splurged £2 on two bottles of Sol. We also went to a restaurant, and I ordered a mole (mole-ay), which is a typical Mexican dish. Not knowing what to expect, I was a little surprised when a dish that closely resembled chocolate covered pancakes with cream and nuts on top arrived in front of me. In fact, I have a picture:

As it happens, this was one of the most disgusting things I have ever had the misfortune of eating. It tasted a lot like bitter chocolate mixed with cigarette ash and the souls of angry old women. With some chicken. Lesson learned!


On day three we took a tour bus around the city, sampling some top notch health & safety standards on an open top bus. I suffered many a near miss with tree branches along the way. We got tea on the top floor of a high rise opposite the Museum of Fine Arts, with a great view of what is a beautiful, if heavy polluted, city. After this, we went over to the city's cathedral which, as far as I'm concerned, serves as little more than a garish reminder of the realities of the Spanish conquest: the enslavement of indigenous people, and the attempted abolition of their culture. Happily, the fact that it is built on top of a lake means that the cathedral is sinking. So there.

On Friday, we went our separate ways, with some students staying in D.F and others going to cities around the country. I took a tiny plane to Colima during a thunderstorm, which was a bit of a hairy ride! But when I arrived I was greeted by the Toscanos - my new family. They are wonderful people: they buy real milk. Oh, and they have Tetley tea bags and Marmite. I love them for that. The weekend has largely been spent settling in and finding my bearings. I am disappointed in myself because my Spanish is completely awful at the moment. I can understand almost everything that people are saying (unless I start daydreaming and lose track of the conversation), but I can barely respond at all. It is very frustrating, but I can only hope that my confidence will grow and that being fully immersed in the language will help my oral skills, too. I am paying about £170 a month here, which is pretty much full board with an en suite room, so it's pretty great! Mexico is significantly cheaper than the UK, and I continue to be surprised every time I pay for anything and compare it with the cost of similar (and in many cases, the same) products in Britain. Going back to England will be a bit of a kick in the teeth for my bank account!


I'm sorry that this has been such a long post; congratulations if you are still with me! Not much more to say other than thanks for reading.

Once Upon a Time in Mexico ...

Agent Sands: Are you a Mexi-CAN or a Mexi-Can't?

Cucuy: I'm a Mexi-CAN.

Agent Sands: Good. Then do as I say.

At 12.05pm on Tuesday 4th October, a plane will take off from Heathrow's Terminal 4. It will fly to Newark Airport. When it lands, a group of twenty-something year old students will battle their way through US immigration and board another plane, bound for Mexico City. I will be among them. With any luck, in-flight drinks will be complimentary so that, by the time I land in Mexico, I will be full of gin. Like any good languages student, I firmly believe that my Spanish is vastly improved by the introduction of alcohol to my blood stream, so I may well have to spend my entire year abroad in a state of inebriation. I shouldn't say things like that, really, as my parents will undoubtedly read this blog. I'VE NEVER EVEN BEEN DRUNK, MUM.

Anyway, I will attempt to use this blog to document my experiences in Colima, Mexico, where I will be working as a languages resource assistant in a University library. I'll be juggling work and play while writing a musical, completing a research project, sustaining a long-distance relationship - oh, and becoming a native Spanish speaker. Which should all make for an eventful year!