They do my laundry and cook my food.
No one pronounces the h on the end of my name.
The people don't smile in the streets or in public at all, really.
There is the most amazing market every Sunday.
The church sermons are even more confusing than normal.
The dedication to dessert is real.
Each night I hear drunk songs, laughs, and chattering out my window.
I live with my friend from California, named Karina. Except everyone always says her name wrong. So I kinda live with Katerina.
Everyone drives stick.
I live in a pent house.
C'est la vie.
Myself with a Barbie bus. It was downtown in the middle of nowhere and on the other side was a slide. I still do not understand why and what, to be honest.
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