Vamos a Jugar en la Playa

Nothing much has happened in the last few days. I am experiencing a terrible torpor, lying on the couch in my brother's apartment, not doing anything, waiting for someone to tell me what to do. I am afraid of the buses because I don't exactly know how they work and I'll feel silly and rushed struggling to ask the driver in Spanish when a bunch of people are trying to get on the bus behind me.

I have made friends with the bird, and I hope to take my first ride on a Segway today. And I'm reading The Pickwick Papers, which I picked up because they're always reading it in Little Women, and it's terribly innappropriate, so English, so completey untropical, but it is about Englishmen traveling around getting into amusing scrapes, so I still relate (and, as we've all learned from our writing students, relatability is highly important). They sell Tolstoy, Hemingway, Jane Austen and NIETZSCHE in the supermarket here, alongside John Grisham, romance novels and self-help books, which says something about Mexico and something else about los Estados Unidos.

I have to go pick up my laundry now. Another new experience.