no hair no haircut

I thought I'd getting a blog so I could both nauseatingly express every moment of my living day and small thought that crosses my mind, and force you to read it out of your general desire to procrastinate and find some small reason to stay on the internet longer, now you've read postsecret three times this week and changed your facebook status three times in the last hour. I also can't remember who I've emailed and who wants to know what.
So here I am in Monterrey, México, or for those of you who enjoy being a bit multicultural, Mejjjjico. I've been here for the last two weeks, and could probably blather on for a while about how it seems both like a really long time and a really short time, yada yada yada, you've heard it all before, and probably from me.
So, I supose I should first go into a bit about Monterrey. It isn't actually desert, as I was expecting, or at least, not yet, and especially not today. This weekend is Mexican Independence Day, and the weather has come over all British. It's rainy and grey (yes that is grey with an ´e' - I'm working hard to maintain British spelling a few hundred miles from the border). It has parks, and trees and greenery, although I'm sure what happens to the parks, trees and greenery when the hot season hits and so do the mid-40s. Wait till March and tell you all about it. The centre (or downtown) is quite impressive - plazas, museums and a barrio antiguo, which I have yet to explore, but is quiet and pretty in comparison with the area where I'm living. One of the plazas there is where, tonight, at midnight, someone will step forth and shout ¡Viva México!, which happens all over the country, and seems to have a lot of importance and a very long build up for two little words. But hopefully I shall be there to witness it.
I am living in a self contained place attached to the house of Yesika, who works in the office in Uni, where I currently spend most of my days hanging around and wondering what I'm meant to be doing, hoping beyond hope that one day I will have a timetable.
The house/flat/place whatever is sweet and has all mod cons - kitchen, telly, shower, all those type of lovely things, although every now and again and cockroach comes to die on the kitchen floor. I've only seen one live one so far, it was enormous and scared the hell out of me. The cockroach spray was just out of reach, and as I went to get it, I accidently chased the cockroach under the dividing door and into the apartment of Yeskia's very sweet Abuela, which made me feel slightly guilty at the time. Then I thought that she's probably been dealing with cockroaches single-handed whilst carrying three children and a cat, whilst hand-making tortillas, since long before I was born.
I'm living alone at the moment, but there's a french assistant arriving either on Tuesday or in October, depending on either who I heard correctly or has the correct information, at the Uni, who's going to move in. My first reaction when I arrived was to look for somewhere else to live with people and closer to the centre, but I've grown fond of my little kitchen, checked table cloth and all, and new washing machine with a mind of its own. I'm also worried about getting from the centre to the Uni, which is out north. There is a metro being built to connect to the university, but a large portion of it fell down last week, so I'm not holding my breath. I am currently close to the bus to uni and the metro to centre, so going to see how it goes for a while.
After mostly getting into Uni in Yesika's car, last Thursday I was allowed out for the first time - to get the bus home. Everyone at the uni was obviously slightly concerned about this and what would happen, but having spent the last few days getting a lift there and back, I was pretty confident - Hmm, that should have been a warning sign. I blame bus-peer-pressure - I have to get off at a junction, and when the bus stopped at a similar junction, everybody jumped off, and in a split second decision, I jumped up too. I knew as soon as I got off that I was in the wrong place and should have just sat tight and got on the next bus. Instead I wanted to check, to be a hundred percent sure I was in the wrong place, so I proceeded to drag myself across roads of many lanes, across massive traffic islands, which were strangely muddy, nearly losing my shoe, crossing roads like a Mexican, which means not even expecting a crossing but striding forth in front of traffic. This was all done in front of full view of the obligatory old Mexican men sitting on corners who were visibly flummoxed and amused by this strange gringa, pink faced and confused, staggering across roads, and attempting to keep a straight faced 'I know what I'm doing' expression. Of course, I had to repeat the whole exercise in reverse, and go and sit down and wait for the next bus, and got home safe and dry. I walked to the supermarket and back yesterday for the first time and I didn't get lost or absolutely confused, so sod's law is obviously saving something up for me.