Finally, it was time for wedding cake. I got my fork ready to shovel in the sugary goodness, then I froze.

What in the world?

Far from the fluffy white angelic delight I expect out of a good wedding cake, underneath the icing, this stuff was thick and reddish brown. And it looked like it had some kind of cherries and raisins in it.

OK, I thought, I'll give it a try.

Bad plan.

"It's fruitcake, isn't it delicious?" This from the British guy standing next to me.

I was in London for the wedding of a friend I'd met while studying there in 2003.

"And," he added, "It's been soaking in alcohol since January."

That would explain the taste, I thought, and attempted to smile as I choked the bite down.

One more reason I'm thankful to be an American.

But I didn't always feel that way.

One week into my 2003 semester in London, I was feeling that being American was more like forgetting to put on deoderant than anything you'd want to be proud of.

For starters, the USA seemed to have a pretty bad rap as far as global awareness, and I felt guilty as charged. Sure, the evening news covered stuff in Iraq, but as far as areas where the U.S. isn't actively militarily involved, I felt clueless.

Plus, the U.S. is such an infant in terms of history compared to European nations. How was I supposed to be proud of that?

Also, in London, you could spot an American a block away. White tennis shoes, jeans, bright Columbia jackets in a sea of snappy black suits.

And you could hear us coming. Our words sounded brassy. Boring. Nasal. I wanted a British accent, any other accent.

Unfortunately, for the life of me, I couldn't even remember the basics. For example, in England, you call your underwear "pants" and you call your pants "trousers."

"Oh man, my pants are totally dirty," I'd exclaim at a crowded train station.

Shoot.

But then the tables started to turn.

Introductions at a London university class: most people were from somewhere in England, one was from Spain, and two from Italy. I stood up. "Hi, I'm Magdalene, and I'm from the U.S."

The response wasn't what I expected.

One of the Italians next to me whispered, "Ooh, you're so lucky! I'm jealous."

Jealous?

That turned my semester in England on its head. Sure, I learned about British culture, saw the crown jewels, rode the Tube and drank gallons of tea.

But I learned the most about America.

Turns out we have a culture. Thanksgiving, football games, Mountain Dew, Hollywood.

And a really interesting history.

And white wedding cake.