When I walked into the Kolding Caffe this morning, I saw two new waiters. I waved at them, and headed for my favorite table on a raised platform. One of the waiters walked toward me and saluted me with a friendly smile: “Hello!” He addressed me in English, though. “Good day,” I responded in Croatian, and he quickly took my lead. With my short hair, knapsack, climbing gear, and sandals, I must look like an American. Now, I was rather pleased with the waiter’s mistake. Not because I was mistaken for an American, I hasten to add. I was pleased because I looked like a foreigner in Croatia. If only I were one, though.