My European Friends

How many times can we (because I am also European) be surprised by the American tipping system? Twice would be too many.

If an American shook his or her head at kilometers instead of miles, Celsius instead of Fahrenheit, a glass of water without ice, or a tiny espresso, if they expressed disbelief every time they visited Europe, we would smirk and call them, well, ignorant.

And yet . . .

Of course, we are hardly flabbergasted when a Starbucks payment screen asks for a 20 or 30 percent tip. Yet we act confused. (At least, I hope we're only acting.) What we really mean is disapproval. Americans do things differently, and somehow that makes them wrong.

And Starbucks coffee itself? "How awful!" Never mind that coffee (and tipping) cultures differ across Europe. Some of us prefer tea or beer. But when it comes to an Americano, we stand united against that "bucket of piss." Because coffee, real coffee, must be . . . well, you know, Turkish?

But there's more. Half of Europe wears baseball caps. A friend of mine seems to own nothing but jeans, T-shirts, and hoodies bearing American university logos, and yet he claims Americans know nothing about personal style. Another friend loves ethnic food. She goes to Middle Eastern and Indian restaurants, eats with her fingers, but is "shocked" by the American fondness for eating with their hands. "How vulgar!"

Are we not aware that our constant fake surprise at Americans tells us more about ourselves than about "them"? Don't we see the paradoxes and double standards?

Europeans have a long history of doing things the proper way. Or just our way. (Because a Chinese or Japanese person might see it differently.) These traditions can be wonderful. But they can also become rules we stop questioning.

Americans, at least in the popular view, seem less troubled by such norms. Why not put pineapple on pizza?

Which brings me to Willy Wonka and his chocolate factory, and that wonderful song, "Pure Imagination." A world where the question is not whether something has been done before, but whether anyone has imagined doing it.

Of course, Hawaiian pizza may still be an abomination. And a mug of watery coffee is still a mug of watery coffee. But there's something to be said for a culture that occasionally asks "Why not?" before deciding "That's not how it's done." After all, Willy Wonka was born in the imagination of a British writer, and Americans embraced him and made his world their own. Maybe we Europeans, with all our splendid traditions, could afford to ask that question again, and a little more often.

…it's

All we really need

Nothing else to it