He's the First Runner Up in the Miss Burkina Faso Contest

This is the flag of Burkina Faso. Please commit it to memory and if you see it in the Peace Corps contingent of Tuesday's Inaugural Parade, look below it and you just may see John! He'll either be carrying it or marching beside the guy carrying it and asking, "Are your arms tired? 'Cause I'd be glad to help you out with that flag!"

Don't expect John to wave, fist bump Obama or even stop to gawk in front of the White House. The marching instructions for those in the parade are quite strict and comprehensive, and even include actual instructions for marching, "The Parade route is approximately 1.6 miles. The parade organizers estimate it will be traversed in 25 minutes at a pace of 112 steps per minute with 28-inch steps. The Parade route is up Pennsylvania Avenue from 4th Street to 15th Street, north on 15th and then west back on Pennsylvania Avenue passing in front of the White House reviewing stand. You will not be permitted to stop in front of the White House reviewing stand and any sudden movements may be interpreted as aggressive by the United States Secret Service. " He also want be taking any photos as those in the parade are not allowed to carry cameras!

We've been told over and over again to DRESS WARM!!!! However, it's forecast to be in the 30's in DC on Tuesday. It was 11 degrees below zero here this morning. So frankly, 30 degrees is sounding pretty darn balmy to us. But fear not, for Christmas John got a parade care kit including toasty socks, foot and hand warmers, a bright red hat (to make it easier for the rest of us to spot him in the crowd - although he may opt for something less warm and more African) AND a bandana (ever handy, just in case the crowd gets tear-gassed or someone needs a tourniquet). Hey, it's not just the Boy Scouts who are always prepared.

We are all headed down to the DC area - staying with relatives in northern VA. We're NOT driving a 25-year-old biodiesel RV, so we actually do expect to make it on time. We will do some sightseeing and mixing with the jubilant crowds in DC on Sunday and possibly Monday. The kids will watch (or not watch) Tuesday's events from the warmth and safety of their cousins' house in VA. Eve might or might not try to brave the maelstrom (much more difficult without her 6'2" navigator, who will be smack in the middle of the maelstrom) and get into DC and watch with a Peace Corps friend whose husband will be marching with John. Either way, we are beyond THRILLED to get to witness history up close and kind of personal.

I'll keep you posted,
Eve

Braving the next frontier

It suddenly feels as if we've left the relative safety of the "aluminum womb"as we've come to call it (hey, it beats the "giant rolling turd") and have ventured out in our docking vehicle. Next stop, The Misters 20th Reunion. Pardon all the space shuttle analogies, but it does feel a bit like we're heading into God knows what. For all the fun and misadventures of life on the slow road in our RV, I had almost forgotten that we were going to the reunion.

For those of you who are new to the story (and is there anybody reading this who is NOT my editor, my agent, or a relative?), I ventured into the great jungley unknown as a Peace Corps volunteer in Ecuador 20 years ago. That whole adventure didn't exactly turn out exactly like I'd planned (and you can read more about my hilarious misadventures in my book: FIRST COMES LOVE, THEN COMES MALARIA (Broadway Books, April '09) end of shameless self promotion) and seeing everyone again after 20 years, well, it's as diarrhea-inducing as it is exciting. 

Twenty years after those first shaky steps into the big world on our own (hey, we were nervous. Okay we were hung-over, too.) and the remaining Misters (so named because all the kids on the streets of Ecuador yelled, "Hey, Mister, give us something!" whenever we walked by) are getting together for a weekend blowout. It begs the existential questions: what have we done with our lives? are all the best parts over? can we ever recapture our glory days? and most importantly, will they think I've gotten fat and old? 

Seriously, I'm writing to you this morning from the absolutely picture perfect house of a couple of fellow Misters. I'm recalling one of our Peace Corps happy housekeeping ditties ("Dig yourself a ditch, for to take a shit ... at least a hundred meters from you house. Dig it nice and deep or when you go to sleep, your poop will be dinner for a mouse!") and now I'm staying in a house that is so gorgeous, I'm afraid to mess it up by using the toilet! How did we get here? And are we still us?

Ah ... but we are adventurers if nothing else. If not, I assure you, we would never have ended up with malaria half a dozen times between us, chasing mountain gorillas at six months pregnant, and being held hostage in a war zone. It's true and all in the book (okay, more shameless self promotion, I'm sorry. The end. Really.).  So onward we go to see what awaits us in the great beyond of Minnesota. It is a new frontier, one that I understand might not even have Wi Fi! but we will tough it out. Hey, we are RPCVs (Returned Peace Corps Volunteers), a band of brothers and sisters with a tough-it-out mentality, not unlike the Marines (without the guns, of course, and all those bothersome rules ... and probably more beer). 

Anyway if you don't hear from us for a few days imagine us on a big, old farm - perhaps like Max Yasger's farm in a small upstate NY town called Woodstock. Yes, imagine us having a grand old peace and love, hippie kind of time. Imagine us holding hands and dancing in the rain. Imagine us singing Cum Ba Ya and closing down the New York State Thruway. (If none of this means anything to you, you are clearly under 40. Go ask your mother.) 

I'll keep you posted,

Eve