So I’ve been in Europe…
(In a traditional Bavarian dirndl because a year and a half in Europe ought to include dressing for the occasion)
A year and a half in Europe has given me a fondness for thermal baths, an occasion to wear a dirndl, and several competing opinions about whether life is better here.
Europe is often presented as a beautiful rebuttal to American life: an Aperol spritz, an beautiful old church, someone apparently free to spend three hours at lunch. I understand the appeal. But living somewhere for a while complicates the image.
My time has taken me through Vienna, Lyon, Budapest, Prague, Poland, and Germany. Budapest and Germany remain particular favorites, partly because I’m unusually susceptible to the argument that an afternoon spent in warm water is a perfect afternoon. I’m beginning to suspect that pleasure doesn’t need any justification.
I’ve had unusual freedom to explore, so I wouldn’t confuse my experience with that of someone commuting to work every morning. Still, among the people I’ve spent time with, evenings seem less like the exhausted remainder of a working day. There is more space to go out, linger, and just enjoy someone’s company.
Germany, especially, has made me think about the difference between friendliness and kindness. People are less likely to smile at strangers, and I’ve found that unexpectedly restful. There is less pressure to perform pleasantness before anything has actually happened. Consideration often arrives more quietly: someone making room as you pass, respecting your space, or noticing that you need a little help and mirroring the confusion in your eyes with an attentiveness often lost at home.
As an American, I’m accustomed to warmth being expressed immediately. I still enjoy that openness. But I’ve grown to appreciate people whose care becomes apparent a little more slowly.
Of course, my affection and patience has limits. Obtaining tylenol after working hours can involve ringing a pharmacy doorbell and explaining myself with a seriousness I would ordinarily reserve for an immigration interview. Everything is closed Sunday. I remain American enough to believe that a simple headache should require little administrative work.
Yet I often feel calmer here. In Munich, particularly, I notice how much I value being able to walk around just feeling at ease. Small courtesies and a respect for personal space have become part of what makes a place feel comfortable to me.
The more interesting difference, though, is what happens when I stop being busy.
I can spend an afternoon enjoying myself and still hear a small American voice asking what I’ve accomplished. Shouldn’t I be building something? Becoming something? Making better use of the time? My German and French friends don’t always seem to share quite the same urgency in the same way, or perhaps they’re simply better at declining the invitation of the thought.
Despite attending college partly in Europe, attending a bilingual school, and having European family, I still see much of this through American eyes. Familiarity hasn’t erased that perspective. If anything, living here has made it easier to recognize.
I like my curiosity and ambition. I understand the difference between entitlement to things and advocating for oneself, or at least I like to think I do. I also like extremely long dinners, warm water, and conversations that become more interesting because neither person is watching the clock. I’d like to make more room for those things without feeling obliged to earn them first.
The dirndl, at least, I’ve embraced without much internal debate.
- Elise