Before she woke up this morning, the small group of us here began celebrating her birthday.
The 4th of July is a different experience overseas. You do not drive up and down streets dressed in red, white and blue ribbons. There is no smell of hot dogs wafting from your neighbor’s yard. You do not see scores of ski boats and party barges lazily floating down the rivers, filled with partiers enjoying a long weekend.
Here, it is a day like any other. No pomp, no circumstance. No celebration, save the handful of us who call the United States home.
This is my second Independence Day abroad, and I find myself in much the same position I was last year, writing a blog post while everyone else is preparing for the cookout.