Happy 4th from Hohoe.

Last year’s Fourth of July was spent driving through the Californian desert drinking Bud Lime-a-Ritas with the sunroof down and the music loud. It was as American as it could get.

This year, I’m in a little town in Africa, with red polish on my toes, blue on my fingers and an American flag bandana wrapped around my head, trying to channel my inner patriot from an ocean away.

My mother recently asked me when I “stopped hating patriotic shit.” (Her words, not mine.)

And it’s true! I used to loathe anything red, white and blue. This is about the same time I thought looking at scenery and sunsets was a waste of time and I didn’t speak to her for a week when she bought a vintage wooden boat instead a fast, shiny fiberglass one.

It’s safe to say my tastes have changed over the years.

After touring the country in an RV, going coast-to-coast meeting great humans and seeing the vast diversity of landscapes and stories that comprise America, I am more than proud to call it home.  

So today, in honor of the independence of my dear nation, I will drink a beer (No Lime-a-Ritas in Hohoe, unfortunately), eat hard corn off the street and sing the national anthem at the top of my lungs.