You'd think we were parade floats, the way people look at us when we're biking. It doesn't help that the US government makes us wear bicycle helmets in a country where nobody wears them. Even when I lock up my bike, there's no need to lock up the helmet. Who would want to steal it? It also doesn't help that we are equipped with super-flashy, state-of-the-art mountain bikes. Okay, actually that helps a lot.

We Peace Corps trainees migrate in herds and are often greeted by little children singing and chanting "Nassara," sometimes accompanied by hysterical dancing. Although I feel I was born to be a celebrity and see this as a substitute for my failed career as a rapper, Tana sees her own fame as unearned. As for Burkinabe citizens older than seven, we've enjoyed how respectfully everyone treats us.



Most days are equivalent to the hottest days of summer in Richmond. Sometimes, even SPF 50 doesn't even cut it and it's unfortunate that shorts are not as chic as long pants in this country. Yesterday we laid in a bed, exhausted, with the fan blasting (thank Allah we have electricity) and a squirt bottle. We took turns spraying ourselves with water, kind of like they did when they were transporting the whale in "Free Willy." This isn't to overstate the heat. It's not all that bad. Some days we eat so much greasy food that we think we might be sweating palm oil.

By the way, congrats to Rick and Tiffany Maxwell. When I get back to the States, I will publically embarrass you with the fourteen-page wedding toast I’ve been preparing since freshman year of high school.

Another thing: we have tons of videos to upload of interesting things, but the bandwidth at these cybercafes makes it impossible to get them to the interwebs. While I have been taking beaucoup videos, someone *cough cough* hasn't taken ANY pictures with her camera to show you.