An American in Berlin
<p>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.</p>
<p>“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.</p>
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