After enduring one of the worst winters New York has ever had, it was time to go back home for the holidays. And hopefully warmer weather.
In February I received a call. It was my agency in New York with my next modeling assignment. I was going to be living in Mexico City for the next three months. Oh no. I need to brush up on my Spanish. Or maybe I'll just say "no hablo español."
The nerves were real.
I wasn't getting much reassurance from my family. Most of them were telling me to be careful and how worried they were about me going to Mexico City.
The first two weeks were rough. I didn't leave my apartment unless someone from my new agency came to get me. The wifi didn't work. This meant no contact with anyone back home. The shows on t.v. were all in Spanish. The one time I did leave the apartment by myself, a car full of men whistled and yelled things at me that I couldn't understand.
I stuck out like a sore thumb. I don't know what gave me away more, the pale white skin or the blonde hair.
However, my hand motioning and facial expression skills did improve.
This made my first photo shoot interesting to say the least. The photographer would push and pull me around, putting me in different spots, making motions of what poses he wanted me to do.
Then I met a guy.
He was tall, dark, and a little hairy.
His name was King Kong and he was my hero. I was just a damsel in distress living in Mexico City.
The nerves were real.
I wasn't getting much reassurance from my family. Most of them were telling me to be careful and how worried they were about me going to Mexico City.
The first two weeks were rough. I didn't leave my apartment unless someone from my new agency came to get me. The wifi didn't work. This meant no contact with anyone back home. The shows on t.v. were all in Spanish. The one time I did leave the apartment by myself, a car full of men whistled and yelled things at me that I couldn't understand.
I stuck out like a sore thumb. I don't know what gave me away more, the pale white skin or the blonde hair.
However, my hand motioning and facial expression skills did improve.
This made my first photo shoot interesting to say the least. The photographer would push and pull me around, putting me in different spots, making motions of what poses he wanted me to do.
Then I met a guy.
He was tall, dark, and a little hairy.
His name was King Kong and he was my hero. I was just a damsel in distress living in Mexico City.
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