The 4th of July is my favorite holiday just behind Thanksgiving, and to me the only legitimate summer holiday. And naturally, the true “meaning” of the modern holiday always strays and evolves to fulfill a new purpose of selling greeting cards. And yeah, the 4th is to celebrate our “independence” from British rule, however, I look at it as a celebration of family, friends, food, fireworks and the sun. So I wanted to make the best of it, considering my distance from anyone else who gave a stink. After a long day of logistics, I started off my personal celebration with some Dutch apple pie at Mokka, on Jacco’s recommendation. It was excellent.

This is not my first expat fourth. In 2003, I spent it in an Irish disco pulled straight from 1982. This year, since I don’t have immediate plans to return to my birth country, I needed something from home. Tex Mex would be a long shot. So I figured, the only thing I knew couldn’t be screwed up…Tequila!

We went to the Australian, um, Outback in Rembrandtplein, a very touristy square near the Red Light District. But they had tequila, and very large beers. Size of your head. In the end, it wasn’t the tequila that brought me home, it was being a loud American in a foreign country.

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