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Americans Abroad

The Source

Robert Burns wrote one of the most interestingly-titled poems in the English language: “To a Louse (On Seeing One on a Lady’s Bonnet in Church).” The obvious subject matter aside, it contained the wonderful couplet: “O wad some Power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as ithers see us!” (note: spelling archaic but accurate) Maybe my curiosity is a bit demented, but while my fellow European travelers are busy asking our guide questions about the weight of the Eifel Tower and whether the canals in Venice are self-flushing, I’m curious about…well…tourists. Specifically, perception of tourists abroad. There’s always a bit of time to chat with your European guide while the ladies are waiting in line to skip to my loo or the last stragglers attempt to buy out the Waterford China factory so I try to take those precious moments to pump our local Cyril or Helga regarding their impressions of tourists. Interesting, their first response is nearly always the same: Americans are usually the only nationality concerned with how their perceived. We seem to be the only group who seem obsessed with our national image while traveling. The guides have told me that Germans and the Spanish never ask the question, Russians and Poles would rather not be noticed, and the French assume that everyone is aware of their superiority and there’s no need to inquire further. (Note to my French friends…I know I’m reinforcing an old stereotype of the snobbish Frenchman, but sadly the perception still seems to exist in the tourism business. Don’t worry: I once knew a man from Meredosia who lost a leg, but every morning when he got up he’d forget and fall flat on his face. Some old memories are hard to erase.) Tour guides for years have responded my question with something like, “Of course you’d ask. You’re an American.” It seems that we’re the only self-conscious or perhaps insecure travelers still trotting the globe. Another common perception of the American traveler: we’re polite. A British tour guide once told me, “Yes, you can hear them coming down the street. They’re lively and boisterous and not at all polite in that way, but then again they’re one of the few nationalities to ask me how I’m doing and truly care. In fact,” he continued, “they make me a bit uncomfy in that they must know all the details of my life. No other nationality does that.” Okay, so we’re curious. I’ll say it: Nosey. I learned one of the more interesting observations on the various nationality traits just before a performance of Shakespeare’s As You Like It in London’s reconstructed Globe Theatre. Most of the audience are “groundlings,” that is you stand to watch the performance (at one time for a penny, now 21 dollars.) It was a blisteringly hot day for London and the heat was to be a factor in the audience’s enjoyment. The trick as a groundling is to get as close to the unamplified stage as possible. One sticky afternoon a red-coated old gentleman in an usher’s jacket gently touched my arm and said, “If you want to move up during the performance, stand behind someone from Japan. They faint first. Then the Germans, the Americans, and on down the line.” Sure enough, I put myself behind a large contingent of friendly folks from Tokyo and before Act One I had my elbows on the front of the stage. After the show I found my usher friend, thanked him for the great advice, and inquired further about the intricacies of tracking the stamina of the nations. He said, “Oh, it varies a bit from there. South Africans and Aussies are useless. They never seem to go down. The Brits have enough sense to sit in the shade before they collapse and then there’s the Irish…” His voice trailed off as he tended to a heat-stricken lady from Minnesota. I still wondered about his verdict on the O’Malley’s. The classic image of the Ugly American, bullying his way across the globe, insisting on all the homey amenities and becoming ill-mannered in his talk of “How we do things back in the U.S.” has thankfully died out over the past two decades. “I’m not sure whether Americans have become less boorish or the other nationalities have become worse,” said an Australian tour guide. “Anymore, they don't hold a candle to the Germans. I dread seeing the Germans coming. And certain Oriental groups can get quite demanding. Frankly, I’m quite pleased when I’m assigned a group from the States. They laugh rather loudly, but it’s all good fun.” Perhaps it’s not just our behavior that leaves the most lasting impression when traveling overseas. Our guide to the Soviet Union had just come off a hectic day of bribing our way through museums and trying to forget about the two KGB agents who’d been assigned to ride our bus all day, carefully taking notes on our young guide’s narration. “Frankly,” she said, “as long as I still have a job and the tourists tip well, I’m happy. That’s my personal secret to international peace.”