On my 10th US Independence Day abroad, I’ll walk across our meadow to where the UK’s Severn River meets the Irish Sea and toss in the contents of a tea bag to celebrate. US holidays abroad are a bit strange. It’s Friday here. No hours-long parades, political speeches, fireworks, over-stuffing myself at cookouts or other scenes of excess. I’ll nip over to the Plough and Harrow pub later for a quiet pint of lager.

Americans living abroad, if we indeed want to find something resembling a community of US ex-pats, sometimes gather together for a cookout. The weather is fabulous today. Alas this is a workday, so most will occur tomorrow or Sunday. Mostly though, we keep to ourselves. Living abroad, one learns to “blend.”

We’re quite happy living with our EU spouses, expanding our world view, obtaining news more sources than CNN and FOX, Brits actually read up to 10-daily newspapers and discuss local issues in great detail. Our priorities shift from the White House race to: local Council Tax lobbying, community movements to stop a local heavy metal rock festival from going ahead or speaking in quiet, dignified meetings to protect areas along our pristine Glamorgan Heritage Coast from expansion.

Our lives are simpler, quieter and whilst we do not know all of our 38-other neighbours here in the village of Monknash, despite our best efforts to blend in, they know who we are.

This real time conversation with an as then unknown neighbour as introduction whilst walking the dog:

“Hi there, my name’s Denis, I live on the farm up on the hill over there.”
“Yes… I know…”

And that’s why we pretty much keep to ourselves.

Were I to leave this secure Welsh homeland and wander about London, I could within 10-minutes easily locate a dozen or so groups shaking and stirring like Bert, Ethel and the kids visiting for a week from Austin. “Hey honey look at this!!!! Awww, ain’t that sweeeeeet… this nice man says Queen Elizabeth personally authorised this plate with her photo on it!!!”

They are the ones speaking 30-40 decibels too loudly wandering obliviously in their matching US flag tops. One normally hears them coming long before you see them, “Hey Ethel, get the kids and come over heah! I want a picture of us all by this heah Tower Bridge!” Excuse me!, EXCUSE ME! Parle vuuus Engles? Yeah you! Can you get a picture heah of me, Ethel and the kids? That there’ Sara Jane, she’s a real cutie ain’t she! We’re from Austin (Hook ‘em Horns! Woo-hooo!).

The migraine has by now fully formed in my right temple and is inching its way across the forehead region as I ask God to open the ground in front of me and swallow me whole. Why do Americans blithely play the stereotypical role of crass buffoon, even when guests in someone else’s country? Even George Bush and the Secret Service shut down Heathrow for hours cancelling hundreds of flights over two days when Air Force One landed, whilst Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II goes to the annual horse meet nearby at Ascot and if you did not know she was there could likely trip over her unawares.

The Brits are quite serious and quiet folk. Do you even see the number of heads that whip around to stare as your “entourage” approaches? Do you remotely listen to what is being said or understand that you are the butt of a series of long-running and time-tested jokes? Can anything save you from yourselves?

I keep watching clips of Americans stuffing themselves at backyard BBQs whilst complaining about $4 a gallon gas (that costs $10 here) and uttering phrases about how much they “support our troops” on this day yet would never personally consider serving in the Armed Forces (or allowing their progeny to) but tear up at the song (or is it a demand that) “God Bless America.” They will look you powerfully in the eye, talk about their Patriotism and proclaim that “these colours don’t run…” but do they ever blend?

A local lad was killed in Iraq recently and the grief was as quiet and powerfully felt as the shame for even being there in the first place. I offer my national origin only when pressed and always with an apology. In 2003 I helped lead an effort in Amsterdam asking questions about the war to come (that we knew even then would never end) because I speak Dutch fluently, something most never bother to do or try. Instead we expect everyone else to speak US English and think that by speaking louder and s-l-o-w-e-r they will somehow understand us? To this day, people walk up to me in Amsterdam when visiting thanking us for our efforts to bridge gaps and showing an entire nation our country does have thinking rational people and we’re not all bunch of gun-toting cowboys.

Is it possible to insist that Americans visiting a foreign country learn a bit about sensory acuity, the people and culture of the land we are visiting and develop an ability to have our own body language, speaking level and tone mirror and match the environment we find yourself in vs. always standing out so painfully?

Our e-magazine The Vadimus Post tries to help bridge understanding gaps because people want to learn about our country beyond the media portrayals. Brits are fascinated with our country and when they visit, they blend in and do not make a fuss. They queue up orderly while we push and demand our space.

It would be nice if we could learn something from their example. But then we kicked them out by dumping tea in our harbour. OK, I guess that nixes that walk to the sea. I guess I’ll just take the dog and quietly hum Yankee Doodle Dandy…