At Chuahtemoc, I asked the lady at the bus ticket window where Hotel San Francisco was. I understood ¨"una" and a hand signal, then "tres- cuatro" and another gesture.

Sounds close.

Sun was nearly set and I found it no problem. The desk clerk immediately realized how bad my Spanish is and spoke slowly, pointing to signs, using his hands and smiling sympathetically. The train station? 4 calle away. I love this town.

Room schedule was back to Asia days- unpack so it all fits in better tomorrow. Hot shower. Spy on the neighboring building where there was a private boxing lesson in progress. And the crown of every evening- up the iPod and dance out the day´s time spent sitting. New, energetic music and I prayed no one could spy in this direction as well.

This trip is about me finding my footing again, my own voice. Even if that means being mostly mute in a sea of foreign tongue. Especially if it means that.