The Fourth Not in America

Turns out Fourth of July can bring a girl to her greatest homesickness. Every week I long for home, but this time it was even more than usual. People were updating their statuses about their celebrations, American pride was in full force, and my sister sent me a family picture that I was not a part of. It was so great to see them in their red, white, and blue, but that was another awakening moment for me. I'm not in America. I'm not with my family. Seriously, all I wanted to do was blare country music, put on boots, and eat a fat burger made by my dad, which if you know me well, the first two were not my preferences pre Namibia life. 

On top of that, some pretty important events are happening in the month of July. Many people are getting married in the next couple of days and weeks, one of them being one of my best friends. In addition, Amanda will be starting a new chapter in her life and I won't be able to celebrate with her at happy hour with a delicious margarita (margarita, not prego before you crazies get any ideas). 

Fortunately though, a group of Americans in any country know how to celebrate their country's freedom and birth in style. With that said, I spent the weekend around Ongwediva with old and new volunteers, appreciating the beauty and the greatness of America. There were no fireworks, but there was some red, white, and blue, and also some hamburgers, cookies, and sweet dance moves. It was a great way to transition into a couple more weekends in the village.