You mentioned how you and Ryan claimed to be Canadian at one point to fend off anti-American sentiment. Unfortunately, when I was in Germany, I spent the majority of my time in an American military uniform, so I couldn’t exactly pose as anything else when I stopped at the market after work. The majority of the locals, of course, spoke perfect English, but were completely unwilling to compromise with an American. So every time I wanted to order the damned Kasespaetzle, I’d have to go through the same dance to make sure the waitress understood that I didn’t want any pork products with it.

ME: Sprechen Sie Englisch?
HER: Nein.
ME: Hablas espanol?
HER: Nein.
ME: Parlate italiano? Parlez-vous francais?*
HER: Okay, I speak a little bit of English.

* = I don’t actually speak Italian or French. At all.