So what happened at Swear-in? We were bussed to the United States Embassy all bedecked in our West African pagne fabric and appearing quite dapper. We waited outdoors in hot tents . . . gotta ensure that the little stagieres are on time. At the ceremony, everyone spoke. I mean everyone. Lots of VIPs, but none more so than our own PCTs who had mastered local languages well enough to speak to the crowd. It was very moving and I was duly impressed by our stage. The First Lady of Burkina Faso was present with some oh-so fabulous shoes, I must say. Do you suppose that she, too shoe-shops at the Mother Ship, aka Neiman's?After the talking we new PCVs marched about to be assessed by the other genuine VIPs. Then it was off to the air-conditioned Embassy for a small party with splendid cocktail trays of food (finally, decent food) and wine. I don't remember much after that . . . probably the excitement of the afternoon, right? I talked with some VIPs, perhaps a Japanese Ambassador . . . I believe that's what someone told me.
Remember the film Roman Holiday? Where Audrey Hepburn greets dozens of VIPs with different greetings, all in their native language. I felt just like that. The PC did a marvelous job of handing me a dozen ways to say "Yo, lookin' good rockin' that pagne; great to meet ya!"
I also recall being collected for the signing of the official oath. It wasn't enough to swear-in orally in 100-degree heat, oh no. Someone took me from the wine bar to execute the official form. We then returned to our hotel where we continued the traditional ceremony of my stage, aka Cocktail of the Week.
Next step: Operation Dinner Out at a charming expat tapas bar with a tidy selection of infused rums. Mmmmy. Dancing! Drinks. More dancing. And then we went dancing! Did I mention that we danced?! Time back at our hotel? We can only speculate. Fun? OMG!! 
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