It's not you, it's me. There, there. There are plenty of blogs in the sea.

Well, this is it for Beans and Potatoes. I contemplated the idea of keeping it going, but it would probably devolve into political and social rants before too long, and that's not really why it was created. BnP is about travel, and I would rather leave it at that.

So thanks to everyone who read, and especially those of you who made comments (except my roommates). I've had a nice little foray into the world of blogging, but my life isn't interesting enough, nor my opinions strong enough, to justify the ongoing existence of this blog. I'll keep it up here, and if by chance I should travel again, I'll probably dust it off and fill in some new entries. Don't hold your breath, though; I'll be graduating from college in May, which means jobs, loan payments, and no chance to travel. Maybe I'll get some plane tickets as a graduation gift, although judging from my recent Christmas/birthday haul, my halcyon days as the favored child of my family are over. Damn five-year-olds are too cute. I can't compete with that.

Pues, adios, muchachos. Cuídense bien, y nos vemos.

Yeah, You Pretty Much Can Go Home Again

I'm back in Iowa. It's cold, snowy and just the way I wanted it to be. Three months in Mexico didn't diminish my ability to stand the cold; I guess 21 years of coping with nut-freezing winters builds a resistance.

Things didn't change a whole lot while I was gone, it seems. Everything's just as good with Andrea - if not better. The guys are all still the guys, except that many of them are getting a little more action now. American TV still sucks, but at least I've got a new season of Family Guy to watch (I did develop a taste for Los Simpsons, however). American politics are still asinine. The Grove still has the best pancakes on the planet. THE MUG was restored to me after having its honor righteously preserved by Smeuss. My mom still falls asleep in her recliner while watching rodeo on TV.

As far as food goes... well, I already miss it. I'm going to desperately search for a truly good Mexican restaurant here, but I don't have much hope. As soon as I move into my new apartment (which is two blocks from my old one and has a dishwasher, whoo!) I'm just gonna cook it myself. Between the scent of pozole, the mariachi music, and the occasional shouts of "Viva Mexico!" I imagine my neighbors might get a little confused when they see a big red-bearded cracker walk out of #5.

Really, though, everything's just fine. After some initial awkwardness (when I tried to say "Permiso," "Mande?" and "Gracias" to various people in the Omaha airport), I'm back into the swing of things. Let me tell you, it is sweet to be able just effortlessly talk with anybody around you about anything. I never realized just how much thought I had to put into everything I said in Spanish because I had to do it so much.

I still can't figure out this fucking American keyboard, though.

The Mad City Gets Crazier

I have always recognized that Mexico City was among the most insane places in the world.  It is teeming with people, man, gigantic beyond anything I've ever seen.  It takes roughly the same amount of time to drive from Cuernavaca to the edge of the DF as it does to drive from the edge of the DF to the bus station.  And then it's a good twenty-minute ride on the metro to get to the thumping heart of México, the Centro Historico.

 

What I did NOT realize is that that was during the off-season.  Now, it's the high season.  Now, a city that was already incomprehensibly full of people is literally overflowing.  I had to check six hotels just to get a room, but they were still so limited that tonight my mom and I will be sharing a suite with four beds, two showers and two TVs.  Whoo, boy.  But you know what's the craziest thing?  It's still cheaper than the Holiday Inn Express in Ames.

 

Speaking of my mom, she gets here in about an hour.  I'm sitting in the hotel right now, at an outrageously expensive Internet café.  Drinking an outrageously expensive soda.  Bracing myself to take an outrageously expensive taxi back to the hotel.  There's a theme here... but my mom arrives shortly.  And she's bringing ducats.  Possibly scrilla, as well.