Winter Isn't Coming

I promised I wouldn't do this religiously, didn't I? Well if it's good enough for George R. R. Martin, it's good enough for me. Hopefully there will be fewer deaths in this though. Life in Mexico is still rather enjoyable overall. As long as you aren't in a hurry you'll probably be fine; if you are though, you'll probably have a stroke.
Since we last spoke, I have been meditating on how to convey what daily life feels like in this frankly baffling place, of which André Breton allegedly declared "There is no need for our movement in this country", and the best I can come up with is that it is sort of like living in a really crap fantasy RPG. There are ancient temples and incredible villains and I'm told if one ventures down to Veracruz, plenty of blighters who fancy themselves as witches and wizards, dispensing advice to weary travelers. In cantinas (where I swear everyone is always sitting in exactly the same place), when you ask the guy behind the bar (still polishing that same glass) what there is, he will tell you just one thing, even though there is clearly more than that. If you ask again he will just repeat that one same thing. I don't think I've leveled up enough to get more options yet. Also, in order to get coffee in school I often have to get a cup, coffee and milk and sugar in 3 separate rooms at opposite ends of the school before I can put them all together and get my 'teacher potion'. All we need now is a ladder with a goat stuck halfway up it for no reason and for ALL TIME. Any day now.

In other news, I got my resident permit, so I am now officially legal. Being congratulated on this by Mexicans was not without its ironies. The new flat still feels like a good decision. Ramón is very much his own dog, not particularly needy and much more of an ally than a pet - basically he's just like Jon Snow's direwolf, which I feel like you really need in Mexico, even if there's never anything that might properly be described as winter. That said though, the flat's hot water is remarkably reliable and it does get chillier than you think here, especially up in the mountains where the school is. However, since it's still generally far warmer than back home right now (whilst all the Mexicans think it's freezing), I rather fancy I am garnering an image as some kind of man of steel, which is just the sort of rep the Supply Teacher needs to deal with those pesky wildlings cartels 7th graders.
Speaking of which, I have gathered quite the regular band of detention chaps now, and a meaner bunch of contenders you couldn't possibly wish to find. Oh sure, you could find a meaner bunch in about 5 minutes in this town, but you couldn't possibly wish to. I must admit, I am not very good at detention. (I think this is why they like me so much.) However, I do not feel that they should merely pass the time we spend together each Friday afternoon engaged in mindless frivolity. It is an opportunity for education, and I presume to call myself an educator. Being detention, there must surely also be an element of moral correction. That is why there is now at least a small contingent of pupils at Northridge School Mexico who are familiar with the fundamentals of cricket and how to make a passable G&T - only the very basics: Gordon's with lemon, Hendrick's with cucumber, Bombay at a push but never, ever Beefeater (consumed with regrettable frequency in this neck of the woods).

Whilst we're on the theme of refreshments, I rather think next time I will have to talk about Mexican food. For now though, I'll just leave you with this gem from today: you haven't seen cute until you've seen a bunch of Mexican primary school kids sing America's 'A Horse with No Name'. For once, these guys were unremittingly adorable.