Bienvenidos a "Tu Casa"

If Flo Rida were Mexican, the refrain of his hit song would likely be "Welcome to YOUR house."

Allow me to explain.

The first time a new acquaintance pointed down an unfamiliar road and told me that's where my house was, I awkwardly corrected her directions. Turns out, in accordance with the warm hospitality that Mexicans are known for (but which still catches me off guard), people here refer to their own homes as tu casa. Of course I'd heard the gringo-fied platitude "mi casa es su casa," but I had no idea that this logic would be so pervasive in everyday pleasantries.

Now that I've cleared that up, let me tell you about tu casa, a.k.a. mi departamento/my apartment. 

I love living in the centro. Less combi-riding, more café-sitting, and beautiful scenes like these every time I walk out the door.

Note the church on top of the cerro (one of Atlixco's main landmarks)

"¡Sí, vivo por la Avenida Libertad!"

I find myself declaring this quite often, usually in response to students or colleagues who are surprised that I live in downtown Atlixco (rather than commuting from Puebla like many university staff do). Though I technically live half a block down from "Liberty Avenue," I have adopted the Spanish-language Frozen theme song as my anthem. 

Since changing accommodations at the end of September, I have certainly enjoyed great freedom-- to cook for myself, walk the two blocks to the zócalo whenever I please (and I please quite frequently due to the ice cream shops on every corner), and of course to watch excessive amounts of Netflix without anyone judging me (fortunately, my Mexican apartment mate has similar TV watching habits). 

The shared spaces (one could use the terms "kitchen," "bathroom," and "living room" VERY loosely), are nothing to brag about, but they get the job done. My bedroom isn't luxurious by any means, but I adore my little peach-colored oasis.

Succulents from the Sunday flower market

I truly could not be happier about my living situation. With that said, here are some things that have, pues, taken some getting used to:

• Gas oven: I was a little intimidated by this old-fashioned appliance at first, but now it's like getting to light the advent wreath candles every day without having to compete against my siblings for the opportunity! However, I do not recommend turning on the gas for all of the burners at once to "save matches." Last week my life flashed (all too literally) before my eyes as a huge blue flame erupted from the stovetop...
• Water heater: After one too many cold showers (read: one cold shower), I asked my roomie if she had any tips for getting hot water. She said there's no real trick, you just have to run the faucet for about 30 seconds, wait to hear the whooshing sound of the heater, and listen for the popping noise that let's you know it's done warming the water after about five minutes. Nothing to it really.
• Outdoor sink: I don't think anybody likes washing dishes, but imagine having to brave the elements (that is, go out to the concrete basin and hose on the back patio) every time you have to rinse a plate, soak a pot, or disinfect vegetables. I'll admit this means I opt for paper towels as an eating surface whenever possible and only buy as many veggies as I can sanitize at one time. I also try not to think about the fact that I wash my clothes, produce, and dirty dishes in the same place. *shrug emoji* *upside down smiling emoji*
• Trash pickup: In my other abroad experiences I have always been hosted by a family, so I remained blissfully unaware of many household logistics. Now that I'm personally responsible for the disposal of my trash (all those paper towels have to go somewhere...), I've had to learn the (rather hilarious) procedure. Garbage collectors come around on most weeknights, banging the side of the truck to alert us of their presence. Those within earshot then have a short window of time to gather their bags and rush out to the street with the hopes of meeting the truck as it passes and tossing them to the men riding in the back. Completing this process is no easy feat, but I'm proud to say that I have done so a handful of times. On other occasions I have conspired with elderly neighbors to sneakily abandon our trash bags down the block, shhhhhh. 

There are some other little conveniences that I hardly notice anymore-- character building at its finest, hollaaa! But a girl can only take so much of the pioneer life. After a month of preparing my coffee in a pot on the stove (am I dumb for never having heard of the saucepan method before I got here? jk don't answer that), I finally splurged for a coffeemaker. And let's be honest, easy morning coffee makes most anything tolerable.

Outside my bedroom window