Dancing with national pride

SALAMANCA, Spain -- First, an admission: I didn't realize it was the Fourth of July until 11 p.m. that evening, and it took a drunk Spaniard to remind me. (I'm doing things on European time.)\nI'm a terrible American. I didn't light any firecrackers, I didn't wear red, white or blue, and I didn't muse on my citizenship until late in the evening.\nI did, however, go to the bars. Yes, it was a Sunday, but I went to church that morning, so it balanced. Praying, shoe-shopping and drinking constitute the Spanish triathlon.\nI was standing in a bar, blinking to the strobe lights and a local, who I'll call Javier, came up and put his arm around me.\n"Ah, you speak English," he said. "You must be from England, right?" \nI opened my mouth to lie and say I was Canadian. IU hadn't told me to mask my nationality, but guidebooks generally say to avoid talking about it in a country where it may be a sensitive issue. Dan Rather also told me that if I was traveling this summer, I should perhaps cover up my Americanness for my own safety. And after Spain's terrorist attack this past March, I thought perhaps it might be a good idea. I can pretend to be "something else," I thought. How hard could it be? \nBut Javier beat me to it. "Now, now, don't lie. You're American, I can tell."\nHe grinned and pulled me over to his group of friends. \n"This is Kehla, she's americana!"\nThe group looked genuinely glad to meet me, but one man held up his hands and said, "Wait, wait, are you a Republican or a Democrat?"\nI told them I was a Democrat, and for my liberalism, I got a big fat kiss on the forehead from Javier.\n"Wait, wait, what do you think of el Bush?"\nI swallowed, thinking I might be getting myself into trouble, because that's a question that never has a good answer.\nI told them, in my diplomat voice, that I thought he had some good points and some bad points. I didn't think the war in Iraq was a good idea, but I supported the soldiers.\n"Perfecto!" the group beamed. "Let's dance!"\nI had been prepared to lie about my nationality for my safety, but ultimately, it helped me make some friends. I had been buying into the general consensus that because of the war, foreigners were going to hate any and all Americans. \nBut these Spaniards were willing to judge me on my personality (or choice of bars, and the fact that I'm a fan of sangria) rather than my nationality. I'm ashamed now that I thought about trying to hide my Americanness, but it was a snap decision based on a desire for safety. \n The fact that this exchange took place on the Fourth of July dawned on me later, and the coincidence wasn't lost on me. It took a drunk Spaniard to make me realize that being American is just as much a part of me as being a woman. I'm also Catholic, and in light of the sex abuse scandals and the church's moving into the voting booth, I've been terribly frustrated. But I've been Catholic my entire life, and I now realize that I can't renounce something that is a big part of me simply because of a temporary problem.\nPride and condonation are two different things I'm learning. I'm American, and I always will be, and no matter the hiccups in our international status, I'll always be proud of my country.\nPerfect. Let's dance.