An American in Berlin
As we settled into our benches at eastern Berlin’s Prater Biergarten, two food stand huts sent bratwursts and drinks flying out as a line of customers grew. We huddled under red and white umbrellas at long, wooden tables as random drizzles of rain fell before the sun miraculously started gleaming over the crowd.
“Just another day at a German beer garden,” I thought. Until a journalism classmate of mine said in astonishment, “Oh my god, I forgot it was the Fourth of July.” It wasn’t the first time that day that one of us had said this, but it never failed to leave me reeling.
For Berliners, the Fourth of July is just any other day, and marking it with a bratwurst instead of a hot dog was yet another reminder of what it feels like to be an American in Berlin. Other everyday differences include the sharp stench of cigarette smoke wafting around every corner, and vending machine-like dispensers in grocery stores, where you can purchase disposable contact lenses or to return glass and plastic bottles for coins.
It is a common notion internationally that Americans are brash, and after spending a few weeks in Europe, I can’t help but agree. As a Mexican-American, I am also aware that Latinos are known for their louder personalities, even in the US. Here in Berlin, there have been several times in restaurants, on public transportation, and while walking in the street where people have given our American students (almost half of whom are Latinos) dirty looks for talking or laughing too loudly.
On the way to visit a news company office, we were being particularly loud while sitting in the upstairs area of the bus. Elderly passengers nearly by glared at our group of about seven students for our loud and excitable behavior.
Amid the embarrassment, I could almost hear my Mexican father’s voice saying, “It’s passion. We can’t hide it.”
Along with American loudness is our chattiness, which is also uncommon in Germany’s restaurant and retail scenes. In fact, one of the first things our study abroad group leaders told us was that servers were not talkative with customers and it was best to avoid conversational questions that one would ask in an American restaurant. “German servers are just trying to get their jobs done,” said our guide.
Even a cashier working AmericanFood4U.DE — an American snack food novelty store in Alexanderplatz — seemed perplexed by small talk. “Why do people from America ask: ‘How are you doing?’ Is it a form of greeting or an actual question they want an answer to?” It made me giggle a little, thinking that what is just common courtesy to Americans confuses those in other countries.
At home, both Americans and Latinos are very loud in their patriotism, displaying flags proudly as household decor and on clothes or accessories. But in Germany I’ve only seen flags and homages to patriotism in a tourist area or government facilities, perhaps because Germans avoid displays of overt nationalism in response to their country’s experience of Nazism and Communism. And even thinking about America, when one considers the darker aspects of our own history, it can feel uncomfortable to be overly patriotic.
Still, on the Fourth of July at home, we see the star-spangled banner on just about every wall, surface, or piece of clothing. And in a predominantly Latino community, party-goers drink copious amounts of beer, light sparklers, and chant “USA! USA!” as they run down streets with flags draped over their shoulders.
Far from those displays of nationalism, in a random German beer garden with bratwurst in a bun covered in ketchup and mustard, my fellow journalism students and I sit outside on a summer evening and celebrate being American here together, enjoying something so different, yet so reminiscent of home.
Saida Morales is a journalism student at San Francisco State University who is reporting from Berlin this summer on a course run by ieiMedia.
