So, we sent the van in front of us with directions to Seasons of My Heart, the gorgeous cooking school where we held the ceremony. Isn't it perfect? And ironic? Since I hate to cook? The van was no where in sight and so we relied on the directions we had the van driver give the taxi drivers before we left. Yeah. So, we were lost. On a dirt road about half an hour outside Oaxaca, we three taxis were out in some field with mud huts all around. What to do? Ask the people in the huts, of course, and we were on our way. Then we got lost again. We decided to call and ask for directions but where were we? Standing next to a corn stalk , a large grey rock fifteen paces to the west. You know the place?? Fortunatley, the cooking school has a rather distinctive red domed roof, and by scanning the horizon, we finally wearily stumbled upon it.
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