Our house is the orange one. There are four of us, three Americans and a lone Brit.
The courtyard of our school.
Picking a new direction everyday, we walk. Although we’ve been warned against eating street food, it’s both delicious and all we can afford on a standard Mexican teacher’s salary. So far no one has gotten sick, and the pursuit of the next best gordita stand has become a house past time.
I took a walk with a co-worker on Sunday that brought us to the scenic route of the industrial zone. Unfortunately we weren’t walking in the direction we thought we were, and did see much besides walls of graffiti.
So far life is little except planning lessons, teaching, planning, teaching, planning, eating, teaching, sleeping, eating, planning. But hopefully that will even out soon.
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