You’ve done it! After all these years you and your wife finally saved up and now you’ve landed in Paris where you’re going to spend five magical days seeing all the sights and eating snails. You’ve got your “PARIS!” book in hand and your fanny pack with money, passports, and hand-sanitizer is safely hidden under your shirt like your neighbor told you to do. Your hotel concierge is very nice and even complimented your wife’s MBT Shape Up shoes that she bought because you knew you would be walking a lot.
But something feels a little strange. After leaving the hotel you’ve had a series of unpleasant encounters with the French. You and your wife were laughed at when trying to order a pastry in French, the waiters got exasperated when you tried to tip them, and at one point you were flat out aggressively ignored by the man at the Metro Ticket Booth.
Here’s what’s wrong. You’re American. Now I know this isn’t your fault and the French have been known to be rude to all peoples of the Earth, but in your case there is something you can do to minimize this crushing feeling of inferiority.
You need to disguise your American-ness. Don’t get all indignant. I’m not saying you need to be ashamed of where you come from, but you do need to change out of your loose pastel clothes and speak in a quieter voice. That could be all it takes to be tolerated and maybe even respected over there in the EU.
Now I may get some angry letters from people I don’t know, (nor care about), saying that I shouldn’t be generalizing people, but the fact is that even though many nations aspire to be American, we are generalized in a very unfavorable way based on how we act abroad. And not without merit. I am often embarrassed by other Americans I see while traveling; we can be obnoxious and naïve and LOUD. And again, we wear too many pastel colors and shapeless skorts. Factor in our silly accents and choice in past Presidents and it’s over.
You can always go on the defensive like my Aunt Kit who, while traveling in Europe in 2007, had a shirt specially made that said, “It’s not my fault…” on the front and, “I didn’t vote for him!” on the back. It was a nice burnt Siena color.
A good example of when you need suppress American-ness: At the beach in Italy there are bathrooms that are literally just holes in the ground surrounded by plywood. Don’t recoil in horror and ask the lady behind you if all the bathrooms are that way. She will glare and make that elaborate Italian gesture with her hands that says, "UGH. That's not good enough for you? Of course they are all this way. What were you expecting? Marble? Madonna Mia." Embrace it as a cultural experience. Just go put your flip-flops on and try not to step in the poo that didn’t make it into the hole. This is a good example of a shituation where you need to keep your cool.
Don't ever order a hamburger. You can wait until you get home for crepes sake. Should find yourself in Sweden, never do your impression of the Swedish Chef in the presence of a Swede. Also, contrary to the name on the Lean Cuisine box in your freezer, Panini is plural. You could end up with more sammies than you wanted. And find something else to carry your belongings in for Lord's sake. The fanny pack is easily replaced.
