Sensitivity, respect and the Ugly American

If you’re weighing the pleasure of tourism against the discomfort of going abroad at a time when our country and culture seem widely abhorred, you might consider traveling incognito. After all, no one wants to be hated.

“Carry the Koran,” humorist Mark Russell once advised American travelers. “Paint a red dot on your forehead; wear sandals; never ask how the Mets are doing.”

I did think of hiding my national identity on a visit to Libya last spring. And when Parisian shopkeepers ask where I’m from, I could lie and claim to be Canadian. But it’s more fun to smile and say, “I’m American, and you’d better be nice to me,” which always gets the laugh I intend it to.

It may be a sorry state of affairs when Americans even toy with the idea of lying about their nationality, but alas, it’s nothing new. Long before the war in Iraq strained our foreign relations, Americans weren’t universally welcomed with kisses and hugs.

Once, a cabdriver in the Indian city of Jaipur turned to me and demanded to know why I hated Muslims.

The proprietress of a Loire Valley bed-and-breakfast treated me so shabbily about 20 years ago that I asked a Belgian couple also staying there to explain. They said I had displeased the owner by calling from the States to make my reservation instead of writing a letter (this was before e-mail) -- proof perfect in her eyes that all Americans are rich pigs.

I wish I’d come up with a sharp riposte, as a friend did while talking to a German woman in an Irish pub. They were having a friendly conversation until the Berliner started berating my friend about the death penalty in America, which the German called a savagery. My friend thought for a second, then sweetly asked her companion if she could explain Nazi death camps in World War II.

Such hostile encounters have been the exception, not the rule, in my travels. But troubled times have made Americans wary. It’s small wonder that some have decided to stay home instead.

It’s hardly a surprise if Americans aren’t embraced in the Middle East. But these days, some of my compatriots don’t even feel assured of a warm welcome in Western Europe. The prospect of getting a sour reception in countries that used to be our friendly, dependable allies, such as Belgium, Germany, Italy and France, seems especially distressing.

To understand what it’s like for Americans traveling in Europe these days, you have to get beyond preconceived notions and the fear of hurt feelings. Above all it’s important to realize -- as I have, traveling widely in the region during the last year -- that Europeans are usually sophisticated enough to treat visitors like individuals. They know the U.S. is deeply divided on political and social issues.

Parisians are likely to assume you opposed Bush; otherwise, what would you be doing in France? But instead of talking presidential politics, I’d rather listen to them (and be amused) than to argue, gradually turning the conversation to more complicated topics such as our differing approaches to healthcare and other issues.

It’s also worth remembering that some urban dwellers, whether they’re from New York or New Delhi, resent tourists no matter where they come from. To rushed, workaday locals, tourists seem rich and idle, taking over all the best places, living as if every day were Sunday.

This is not to say there aren’t significant points of contention between Americans and Western Europeans. But apart from the war in Iraq, many of these are subtle and under the surface.

There is jealousy about the global ascendance of U.S. culture, its movies, music, food, sports and style, and the fear that Velveeta will displace Brie and Roquefort.

And there is the matter of moral values, pertaining to religion, gay marriage and abortion, which many pundits say helped get President Bush reelected. These issues are simply not understood in much of highly secular Western Europe. That’s especially true in France, where people tend to keep their most intimate behavior and personal beliefs to themselves, as evidenced by recently enacted laws against wearing religious garb, such as Muslim head scarves, in French schools. You can freely practice your religion at home and in places of worship, but in such forums as public school everyone is supposed to be on the same footing.

Then there’s the French obsession with appearance, which stems as much from an innate sensitivity to aesthetics as from superficiality, I believe. The urge to look good is inbred in the species. To a Parisian, appearing on the Boulevard St.-Germain-des-Pres in a sweatsuit is a little offensive.

By all means, wear your sweats in public, pack a jar of peanut butter, argue with the natives about former President Clinton’s sexual peccadilloes. There’s no need for Americans to stay away from Europe or to hide or apologize about who we are.

There is, however, a need for awareness, sensitivity and respect. On the deepest level, these qualities require us to focus not on ourselves but on others; to stop wondering how they see us long enough to try to see them. This is a way to strong, enduring personal relationships. The beauty of it is that this is also the way to rewarding travels.

Susan Spano also writes “Postcards From Paris,” which can be read at www.latimes.com/susanspano.